Two weeks blurred by, I would sometimes zone out unaware of what was happening around me. The only time I felt like myself was when I was with Tess or Janie, they forced that right out of me.
My life is exactly how it has always been prior to Brandon, so why did it seem colorless all of a sudden? What disturbed me the most was that there seemed to be no end in sight.
Brandon for one was going about his life as though I didn’t exist anymore. I’d see him everyday but he kept his distance and he’d hardly gaze in my direction if he were close by. He’s only doing what you told him the little voice inside me would point out whenever I’d get upset about it.
Its true, I told him to stay away from me and he obliged, what else did I want?
“Katelyn?” JT said in exasperation and my gaze zeroed in on him “Don’t forget about Saturday.” He said and I nodded “I haven’t forgotten.” I said, Mom and Dad asked us to help out at one of the charity homes. They normally did the work themselves when they find the time but they’d also involve us. I loved taking part in it, and I loved everything the Gilbert Foundation has done.
“Tess, are you coming with us?” I asked Tess and JT shot her a look I couldn’t understand. It looked as though they were hiding something, but it was probably some boyfriend/girlfriend thing they do. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that they’re seeing each other. The great thing is that they both looked very happy, which was more than fine by me. “Uh…no, a cousin of mine is coming over this weekend, my parents would think its rude if I where to leave.” She said.
I nodded, though I was bummed out, Tess normally went with us.
The bell rang and we all stood up, JT kissed Tess’ forehead then walked away. I chuckled at her as we made our way to our lockers. “You’ve got it bad.” I said and she smiled sheepishly “I know.” She said “I just never thought he felt the same way, I hope someone’s not playing a practical joke on me,” she said. “I doubt he’s that heartless.” I said “Well I have art class, see you later.” I added.
“Good day class.” Mr. Anderson said after we all settled down and he removed a cover from a canvas to reveal a painting. “Today well be focusing on interpreting art. Debates can ensue on the meaning or message behind certain artwork.” He said as he walked around the classroom, “Now I want you to take a good look at that painting and I want to hear what you can make of it.” He said.
I looked at it myself, it looked very impressive and gallant but there was no authenticity to it; looking at it didn’t inspire any emotion out of me. And that’s what I want out of art, to connect to it emotionally. Mr. Anderson listened to the mixed opinions of the students then he called my name.
“Well its grand I’ll give it that much, but to me it just looks like unorganized explosions of random energy, thus meaningless.” I said and Mr. Anderson nodded then looked behind me and I tensed.
“Mr. Carter I see you shaking your head, you have anything to add?” he asked
“Certainly, I’ll have to disagree with Ms. Gilbert, had the artist been more subtle with their technique, it wouldn’t have translated as well.” Brandon said and unlike the rest of the class I resisted turning to look at him too. “This painting is more abstract and requires one to look beyond the complex symbolism in order to decipher the true meaning of it,” he added and I resisted rolling my eyes.
“But in some cases such as this one, what you see is what you get, honesty and simplicity get the message across. To an observer sometimes the connection is just not there, no matter how deep you try to look—” I added before Brandon cut me off.
“There is always meaning behind the mystery of a painting, sometimes things are not always what they seem.” He said and Mr. Anderson halted our argument with a raised hand.
“Fair points made by both of you, and that’s what we’re talking about people, different interpretations from different perspectives.” He said and the rest of the class looked back at him looking thoroughly entertained. He continued to listen to other students’ analysis. His voice faded into the background and I tried to calm my aggravated nerves. I knew that our heated debate had nothing to do with the damn painting; it was personal.
Feeling his gaze on me I turned to glare at him and found him watching me with a strange emotion in his grey eyes. We just stared each other down for a moment; it was the longest we’ve looked straight at each other for a while now. I felt my annoyance slip away the longer I stared at him, his own gaze softened a little and I looked away before I crumbled.
My focus turned back to Mr. Anderson, trying by all means to unsuccessfully avoid the ridiculously good-looking boy behind me. Story of my life these days.