𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢, wayhaught

chapter 2.

Nicole spends the next hour putting her clothes away. It doesn't take that long, but her lack of motivation isn't helping. She looks over at the phone on the desk a few times. She's had a phone before, but she's never been attached to having one. Less technology means less chance of tracking her down if she does something wrong.

She always considers herself a pretty simple person. That's what happens when you grow up with nothing. You learn to get used to it. She finally reaches the box of sketchbooks that she left on the desk in the room. She opens the top and takes a couple of them out, flipping through the pages. The smell of leather, paper and graphite hits her nose as she takes a breath in. Drawing was always her main escape away from anything. When she was young, she would draw worlds that she fantasized would come to life. A world she could escape to. Reality sunk in early, however, that it would never be real, so she started drawing anything and everything around her.

She doesn't have many photographs and there aren't many taken of her. She always sees people around her constantly taking pictures of the world around them. They stop to snap a photo with their phone of a tree, a mountain, a building, their friends, and then they lock their phone and store it back in their pocket. They take a moment, make it a memory to look back on in the future. She often wonders if they actually ever revisit some of the photos that they take. What's the point if they're just going to sit in cyberspace forever? She never really had that luxury, so she draws instead. She draws faces of people she comes into contact with. Some have had a bigger impact on her life than others, but all are important in one way or another.

She flips through a few pages of her drawings. She sees the faces of people from her past. She stops on one particular drawing of a girl. She runs her fingers over the lines as if she's redrawing them. She closes her eyes for a moment. She feels like she's back in the moment that the drawing took place in. She's sitting at a picnic table in a park. There's another girl sitting across from her. She knows her well, better than she knows anyone. And the girl knows her. She moves the pencil smoothly on the paper, holding the sketchbook up with her other hand.

The girl smiles back at her, asking her to see what she's drawing. Nicole refuses, attempting to ignore her pleads but she can't help but smile. She swats at her hands as they try to pull the book down to reveal the drawing. She doesn't usually share her drawings with anyone, but this isn't the only time she's drawn this particular girl. She's beautiful. Her blonde hair flows just past her shoulders, but she usually has it pulled back in a ponytail. Her piercing blue eyes always make Nicole's heart beat so fast she fears it might burst. She dons a basketball jersey, putting her muscular, and perfectly tanned arms on display.

Nicole blinks and the figure girl in front of her starts to fade away. She blinks again, trying to return to the memory. It has been three years since that day and she still feels it like it was yesterday. There's a knock on her door, ripping her fully from the moment. She slams the sketchbook shut and quickly shoves it in a drawer. "Yeah?" She calls out.

"Dad says I have to give you a tour of the house," Chrissy says as she pushes the door open. She doesn't seem very enthused by the idea.

"Okay," Nicole says as she closes the box of books on the desk and turns toward the blonde. "I'm Nicole by the way." The introduction seems unnecessary. She's sure the girl knows who she is by now, but she tries to be polite.

"Yeah, I know," Chrissy huffs. "I'm Chrissy, but I'm sure you already know that." Nicole nods with a quick laugh and follows her out of the room.

"This is the upstairs," Chrissy says, quickly gesturing around the hallway. Her tone is flat and she avoids making any real eye contact with Nicole. "My room," she points to her left. There are 4 others closed doors in the upstairs hallway. Chrissy points them out as guest rooms and a bathroom. She wonders how many guests they have to rationalize having that many extra rooms. She was always lucky when she had her own room and didn't have to share with anyone else in her foster placements.