Sweet Heart - Trina T (good books to read in english txt) 📗

Cole

"What do you mean it’s due tomorrow?” I asked my best friend Mayla.

“Mrs. Sello said it was due on the 16th. Today is the 15th so, I’m guessing that tomorrow will be the 16th. Well, to put it in laments terms, it’s due tomorrow.” Mayla said with a wide grin on her face.

I just glared at her. Our friendship was based on sarcasm so I wasn’t pissed about her attitude. I was pissed because I was looking at a void of color canvas with only my crudely drawn sketch of a wolf’s head covering its blankness.

I slumped back in my chair trying to recall Mrs. Sello ever saying such a thing but I came up empty. The project was for my advanced intermediate art class, and Mrs. Sello expected a lot of me and graded me hard. I wasn’t by far the best artist in the class but for some reason Mrs. Sello always pushed me hard and always wanted me to go the extra mile. I understand that all teachers want their students to do their best but I just couldn’t do that for every single project she assigns. It just wasn’t possible.
Mayla looked at me “What are you going to do?”

“Crawl in a hole and die!”

Mayla just laughed, not taking me serious. But right now that actually sounded like a fantastic idea.

“Well, I can tell you one thing for sure; you won’t be seeing me in class tomorrow. I can’t take work off tonight, so I guess I’ll just go to the art studio and work on it during school hours.” I shrugged my shoulders.

I looked at my watch and noticed I was going to be late for my waitressing job if I didn’t get a move on. I said my good byes to Mayla and go into my old run down Chevy. I was thankful that the project was due tomorrow because that meant that the art studio would be empty.

At my school we had two places to meet for advanced intermediate art, one was the small cramped class room, where we would learn about technique and other famous artists. The second was an actual art studio that my school rented out. The art studio was only a block away from the school, so on studio days, instead of going to the classroom; we would walk down the block (rain or shine) to the studio and actually paint or draw. Those days are my favorite but god forbid you couldn’t remember if we had a studio day or a class room day.

I walked into the quite studio early the next morning. No one was there; I had the studio all to myself. My smile couldn’t have been any bigger. I walked to the back easel, my easel, with my canvas in one hand and all my supplies in the other. I turned on the radio, blasting the music until I thought my ears would bleed, just the way I liked it.
I looked around the studio, it was different with no one here but me. The big windows lit the studio up so bright there was no need for artificial light. The studio floor was covered in dried paints of all different colors and sizes. I loved this studio; I loved it more than any other place in the world, other than my swing in the park. Sense I was a senior and in this cretin art class, I had keys to the studio. It was opened to me whenever I wanted it. And I will admit that I abuse that ability to my full extent.

I squeezed out gray, white, black, and brown paint onto my pallet and started mixing and blending the colors until I had different shades and tones of all of them. I took my brush and started to make my wolf come to life.

Ryder

can’t believe I’m back…I never thought I’d be looking at this god forsaken town again. Driving down he main street I looked around at the unchanged buildings and shops. Not a thing has changed in the two years I’ve been gone. I wonder if the people I left behind have changed or if they are like the town and stayed the same.

I pulled into my old schools parking lot and looked around for a spot. I finally found one all the way in the back of the lot next to an old Chevy. I sighed as I looked down at my new class schedule.

I haven’t been here for so long; the high school looks foreign to me. Actually everything looks foreign. I’m about to say ‘fuck this’ when I feel my phone vibrate. I bang my head back again the head rest.
“What?” I growl into the phone. The last person I wanted to talk to was my big brother.

“Ryder, I know you’re pissed off but I’ve already talked to the principal and you have no choice. You’re going to finish out your senior year at Valley. Now get to class!”

I loved my brother, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes Kyle forgot that he wasn’t my dad.

“Fuck off.”

“Yea, fuck you too. Now get to class. We can talk about how much you love me when I get home from work.”

I slammed my phone shut and threw it against the dashboard. The back and the battery broke off the phone on impact and I cursed myself as I put the pieces back together. I grabbed my backpack from the trunk and reexamined my class schedule again.
I’m a senior, coming back to Valley High School in the middle of the second semester. I went to Valley until the end of my sophomore year. I knew some of my old friends were excited to see me but there was one person I really didn’t want to see.

It was the beginning of 8th period. I knew I was late for school and my class but getting registered took almost all day. Even though I wasn’t really new to the school, I knew the lay out pretty well, I could use my ‘new’ status as an excuse for being late for class.

My 8th period class was advanced intermediate art, I looked at the schedule again. I remembered that that class was sometimes in an off campus studio. From the schedule it looked like it was a class room day but I really didn’t want to deal with teachers and students so I took off down the road to the studio. I could pretend later that I got lost of confused.

It was the middle of February, in Chicago, which meant sub below temperatures and even colder winds. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, wishing I was back in California where it was warm!

I finally got to the studio doors and pushed them apart. The warmth of the studio rushed to me and felt great against my chilled skin. God, I hate the cold. I hate that I’m here! I hated everything about this town, this city; all it ever did for me was cause me bad memories.

As I got farther into the studio I heard loud music coming from the inside of the art room. Shit, I thought the schedule said that today was a classroom day. Well, I might as well get this over with. I pushed opened the doors, hard, but when I looked up, there was no one there. What the hell?

I looked around some more, to make sure I wasn’t going crazy. There defiantly was music blasting but I couldn’t see anyone in the room. The music was so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think. First thing I was going to do was find the radio and shut that shit off. I thought about yelling over the music but I doubted whoever was here, would hear me. I wondered farther into the studio looking for the radio and whoever was here.

I decided that it might be worth yelling “Hello? Anyone here?”It was no use, I may have a deep voice but I was no match for the radio.

As I got farther into the studio I noticed there was dried up paint all over the floors. “What no janitors?” I thought to myself. I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed a girl holding a paint brush and standing in front of an easel. The canvass in front of her had a painted wolfs head on it, that wasn’t half bad. The girl wasn’t painting though, she was dancing! I had to keep myself from laughing. The girl was in her own little world and I really wasn’t sure if I should disturb her. She moved her wide hips to the steady beat of the radio. Her feet in sync with her hips, she moved with such grace and beauty. She twirled in two circles, but on the third rotation she lifted her head up and noticed me. The girl screamed louder than the music and dropped her brush. Paint flew in all directions. My blood ran cold when I realized who I was looking at. The one person I was hoping to avoid seeing again. It also didn’t help that she was the one person I missed seeing the most.

She looked amazing; her hair was longer than before. She had an old sweater on that she got for her birthday 3 years ago, jeans ripped at the knees and beat up old converse high tops. As much as I was glad to see her I wanted to run out of the studio and get as far away from here as possible. The problem was my legs felt like they were glued to the floor. I just stood there, staring at her, my eyes wide.

She recovered first, like always, and walked over to the radio and shut it off. Silence filled the huge studio and I was suddenly fearful of the absence of sound.
“Ryder? Is, is that you?” She asked stunned.

“Hey Cole, yea…umm, how are you?” I was so nervous. I was hoping to avoid her but of course, with my luck, she would be the first person I would see from my past. I fucking hate Kyle and my Uncle.

“Why are you back?” It was always like her to cut straight to the point. She always said she hated the ‘fluff’ (as she called it).

“I moved back. For, for good.” I couldn’t stand the look on her face as I said that. She looked horrified.


Cole

I should have just gone to Mrs. Sello’s room today and taken the stupid zero. But no! I had to come to the studio and try to finish my stupid project, so that graduation was at least a possibility.

I can’t believe Ryder is standing here, looking at me. I can’t believe it, I