creative, but I just can’t find the right way to execute it. I don’t know, maybe I really don’t have any talent. But that day I was going to have to find some because we were starting painting. Each of us had a huge canvas and we were painting whatever we wanted, as long as we only used three colours.
I was using black, red and grey.
"Grey is not a colour." I heard Mike, the biggest instigator of my teasing, say to his two little side-kicks. "It’s just the same as black."
The three of them sniggered at me, and while I wanted to disagree, I didn’t say anything, just kept painting and trying very hard to ignore them. Problem was Mike just kept going, he kept telling everyone I was too stupid to pick three separate colours. That I didn’t even realise black and grey were the same thing and that I couldn’t even paint right. I was desperately trying to ignore what he was saying, desperately trying to ignore the three of them laughing at me, but all I wanted to do was disappear. All I wanted to do was paint myself a colour which hid me from everyone, especially Mike.
Eventually when he saw he wasn’t getting a reaction from me, he walked over to my canvas with his paintbrush. As he pushed me out of the way, he started flicking yellow paint all over my painting. He was holding a pot of it in one hand and he just kept dipping his brush in and flicking more and more paint over it. I stood there mute. I just couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry.
Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Grace. I saw Grace walk over with her pot of black paint. I saw Grace walk right up to Mike and dump the whole pot over his head. Then I saw Grace reach out and take my hand. Pulling me away from my ruined painting and over to hers, where she was painting with the same three colours as me.
"I don’t like him very much," was all she said to me as the teacher came rushing over to find out what had happened.
I smiled at her. "Neither do I."
After that day, talking to each other was not a problem anymore. And the teasing stopped too, especially from Mike. I think he was kind of afraid of Grace, while I was just in awe of her. We hung out every day after that, sitting together in class and during lunch. We’d spend many afternoons at each other’s house and would often have sleep overs on the weekend. I was so relieved to finally have a friend, someone to talk to and so very glad the teasing had stopped.
And just like that, we became best friends forever.
Well, three years to be exact.
∞
Eventually I pull back from Luke’s embrace, taking my hands from my face and turning my head away from him. I see leaning against the wall are three guitars; electric and acoustic.
"Do you play?" I ask, wiping the last of my tears as I turn back to him.
"Yeah," he says turning to look at his guitars.
I look up at him. "Are you any good?"
He laughs softly and turns back to face me. "I don’t know. Why don’t you come watch us play one night and then you can let me know," he says, his fingers reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek. I let him. His thumb is soft against my skin.
"You’re in a band?" I ask, surprised. He’s never mentioned this in his emails.
"Yeah," he answers the tiniest amount of pride lighting up his face. "We actually have a gig next Saturday night, you should come along, see what you think, tell me if we’re actually any good."
I think this would be a very bad idea. I also think I really want to go and see him play, because I really love live music. Love nothing better than losing myself in a crowded room or stadium, anywhere that’s full of people who are all feeling the same thing. Who are all affected by the music that’s being played. There is nothing like it, the energy that surges through the room, the emotion that’s felt as a note is played or a word is sung. I love it. And it’s one of the few things I can do alone and still enjoy.
"You never told me you were in a
I was using black, red and grey.
"Grey is not a colour." I heard Mike, the biggest instigator of my teasing, say to his two little side-kicks. "It’s just the same as black."
The three of them sniggered at me, and while I wanted to disagree, I didn’t say anything, just kept painting and trying very hard to ignore them. Problem was Mike just kept going, he kept telling everyone I was too stupid to pick three separate colours. That I didn’t even realise black and grey were the same thing and that I couldn’t even paint right. I was desperately trying to ignore what he was saying, desperately trying to ignore the three of them laughing at me, but all I wanted to do was disappear. All I wanted to do was paint myself a colour which hid me from everyone, especially Mike.
Eventually when he saw he wasn’t getting a reaction from me, he walked over to my canvas with his paintbrush. As he pushed me out of the way, he started flicking yellow paint all over my painting. He was holding a pot of it in one hand and he just kept dipping his brush in and flicking more and more paint over it. I stood there mute. I just couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry.
Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Grace. I saw Grace walk over with her pot of black paint. I saw Grace walk right up to Mike and dump the whole pot over his head. Then I saw Grace reach out and take my hand. Pulling me away from my ruined painting and over to hers, where she was painting with the same three colours as me.
"I don’t like him very much," was all she said to me as the teacher came rushing over to find out what had happened.
I smiled at her. "Neither do I."
After that day, talking to each other was not a problem anymore. And the teasing stopped too, especially from Mike. I think he was kind of afraid of Grace, while I was just in awe of her. We hung out every day after that, sitting together in class and during lunch. We’d spend many afternoons at each other’s house and would often have sleep overs on the weekend. I was so relieved to finally have a friend, someone to talk to and so very glad the teasing had stopped.
And just like that, we became best friends forever.
Well, three years to be exact.
∞
Eventually I pull back from Luke’s embrace, taking my hands from my face and turning my head away from him. I see leaning against the wall are three guitars; electric and acoustic.
"Do you play?" I ask, wiping the last of my tears as I turn back to him.
"Yeah," he says turning to look at his guitars.
I look up at him. "Are you any good?"
He laughs softly and turns back to face me. "I don’t know. Why don’t you come watch us play one night and then you can let me know," he says, his fingers reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek. I let him. His thumb is soft against my skin.
"You’re in a band?" I ask, surprised. He’s never mentioned this in his emails.
"Yeah," he answers the tiniest amount of pride lighting up his face. "We actually have a gig next Saturday night, you should come along, see what you think, tell me if we’re actually any good."
I think this would be a very bad idea. I also think I really want to go and see him play, because I really love live music. Love nothing better than losing myself in a crowded room or stadium, anywhere that’s full of people who are all feeling the same thing. Who are all affected by the music that’s being played. There is nothing like it, the energy that surges through the room, the emotion that’s felt as a note is played or a word is sung. I love it. And it’s one of the few things I can do alone and still enjoy.
"You never told me you were in a
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