"Seriously?" I thought. "Not her again. She's in this class too?"
I glanced at the blank canvas in front of me and then at her.
I wonder if she even knows how to paint, I thought sarcastically. Well, hopefully she leaves me—and everyone else—alone.
Before I could see whom she was going to approach, the teacher clapped her hands to get our attention.
"For your first day," she explained, "I want you to paint anything you like. This will help me understand your current skill levels so I can plan the lessons accordingly."
I appreciated that. It was a thoughtful way to begin the class, and it meant we didn't have to follow a strict assignment immediately.
I arranged my pencils and brushes beside the canvas and began with a light sketch. Slowly, the blank surface started to come alive beneath my hand. I lost myself in the lines, shapes, and ideas forming in front of me. For the first time that day, I forgot about the school, the girls in my class, and how out of place I felt.
Then my pencil slipped from my fingers and rolled onto the floor.
I bent down to pick it up, but someone reached it first.
A boy standing beside me held it out.
"Here," he said.There was no particular expression on his face—just a calm, unreadable look.
I took the pencil from him. "Thank you."
He gave a small nod and turned back to his own canvas.
I watched him for a second longer than I should have. He was incredibly handsome, with neatly tousled hair and sharp features that made him look almost unreal. More than anything, though, it was his quiet, serious manner that caught my attention.
Why does he look so serious all the time? I wondered. I quickly looked away before he noticed me staring and returned to my sketch.
A few minutes later, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. I was surprised by how quickly the time had passed.
The teacher walked between the tables, examining our unfinished paintings.
"Leave your work here," she told us. "We'll continue from where you stopped tomorrow."
I carefully placed my pencil beside the canvas and took one last look at my drawing. It was still rough, but I already felt attached to it.
As I walked out of the art room, I found myself thinking about the mysterious boy who had handed me my pencil.
And, despite everything, I was looking forward to coming back the next day.
We all headed back to our classroom after art. I went straight to my desk and gathered the rest of my things before heading to the canteen. I was starving and couldn't stop thinking about food.
Just as I reached the door, Lisa stuck out her foot.
I tripped and nearly fell flat on my face. Behind me, her two friends burst into laughter.
"Oops," Lisa said, pretending to look innocent.
Before I could say anything, she snatched my bag from my shoulder, unzipped it, and dumped everything onto the floor. My notebooks, pencil case, water bottle, and art supplies scattered across the hallway.
I stared at her in disbelief.
Lisa crouched down, picked up one of my notebooks, and held it out with a mocking smile.
"Here," she said. "I'll do it for you." I didn't understand what she meant.
She tilted her head and continued, "Is this your trick to flirt? Throw your things everywhere and wait for someone special to pick them up for you?"
Her friends giggled again.
"Are you expecting some handsome boy to come running and collect everything?" Lisa asked.
I stared at her, completely confused. Is something wrong with her? I wondered. Why does she behave like this.
I wanted to ask her whether she had lost her mind, but my stomach growled loudly. I was too hungry and too tired to waste my energy arguing with her.
I bent down and began gathering my things myself.
Apparently, that wasn't enough for Lisa. She stepped closer and crouched beside me. Her face came dangerously close to mine, and I could already imagine the cruel comment she was about to make.
Then a familiar voice called out.
"Lisa." She immediately turned around.
It was the boy from art class. He stood a few steps away, one hand in his pocket and the same calm, unreadable expression on his face.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go to the canteen."
Lisa's expression changed at once. The teasing smile disappeared, replaced by a softer look.
For a moment, I wondered if he had deliberately interrupted her to help me. Maybe he had noticed what she was doing and wanted to get her away from me.
But I quickly dismissed the thought.
Why would he help me? I barely knew him. Besides, he and Lisa clearly knew each other. They might even be friends.
"Don't take too long," he added before walking away. Lisa gave me one last irritated look and hurried after him.
I finished collecting my belongings, shoved everything into my bag, and made my way to the canteen. It was crowded and noisy, so I found a quiet corner where no one would notice me. I bought a sandwich and some juice, then ate quickly while staring out of the window.
I just wanted the day to end. The remaining lectures passed slowly. By the time the final bell rang, I felt completely exhausted. I packed my things and left the college without looking back.
When I finally reached home, I let out a long sigh of relief as soon as I stepped through the door.
"How was your day?" Mum asked, as usual.
"It was okay," I replied. It was easier than explaining everything.
I ate dinner quietly, barely noticing what was on my plate. Afterward, I changed into my pajamas and collapsed onto my bed. My entire body felt heavy.
I should have gone straight to sleep, but instead I picked up my phone and began scrolling through social media. That was when I saw Lisa's new post.
It was a selfie of her standing beside the boy from art class. His face was mostly hidden because he was looking down at his phone, but it was obvious that he was with her.
The caption read: Some people can only envy and be jealous. They can't have what you have.
At the end, she had added a peace-sign emoji. I rolled my eyes.
"What is wrong with this girl?" I muttered. "Why does she think the entire world revolves around her?" Still, I couldn't stop looking at the picture.
Are they in a relationship?
The thought made me feel strangely uncomfortable, even though I had no reason to care. I barely knew him. He had only picked up my pencil once.
"Whatever," I whispered, locking my phone. "It's already late."
I set an alarm for the next morning, placed my phone on the bedside table, and pulled the blanket over myself.
Within minutes, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up feeling much better. Maybe it was because I had slept so deeply and peacefully after such a long day. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel completely exhausted when I opened my eyes.
I got ready quickly, grabbed my bag, and hurried to the bus stop.
And just like that, another day at school began.
Surprisingly, the morning was much quieter than usual. There were no whispers following me through the hallways, no annoying laughter behind my back, and no Lisa waiting to make my day miserable.
Maybe she was absent.
As I approached the school gate, I noticed the boy from art standing beside a parked car. He was wearing a dark jacket and had one hand tucked into his pocket. His expression was as serious as ever. Someone called out to him from across the entrance.
"Aaron!" The boy turned around. Another student walked over, gave him a quick high-five as a morning greeting, and then headed inside.
Aaron. So that was his name.
I repeated it quietly to myself.
"Aaron…" The name suited him somehow.
I quickly looked away, hoping no one had heard me mumbling, and went to the classroom. When I entered, I noticed that Lisa's seat was empty.
A few girls sitting behind me were whispering.
"Apparently, her parents yelled at her last night," one of them said.
"Why?" another girl asked.
"She spent a ridiculous amount of money on designer clothes without telling them. They found out and grounded her."
"I heard she came to school earlier but left after her parents called her," someone else added. "Her eyes were red, and she looked furious."
I pretended not to listen, but I couldn't help hearing every word.
I shook my head and turned toward the board.
Maybe she cares more about her appearance and showing off than anything else, I thought. Her grades are terrible, and she probably doesn't care about art either.
I opened my notebook and focused on the assignment written on the board.
Soon, the lecture ended, and it was time for art class.
I gathered my things and made my way to the art room with the others. Lisa was absent from this class too, which immediately made me feel more relaxed.
I sat in front of my canvas and continued working on my painting. The room was peaceful except for the soft sounds of brushes moving across canvases and the occasional clinking of water jars.
After a while, someone entered and quietly whispered something into the teacher's ear.
The teacher nodded and turned toward us.
"Our next lecturer is absent today," she announced. "So I'll be extending this class. You'll have plenty of time to finish the paintings you started."
A small wave of happiness passed through me.
More time in art class meant more time away from the noisy corridors—and more time to paint.
I was carefully adding color to the sky when Aaron approached my table.
"Do you have any extra blue and green paint?" he asked. "I forgot to bring my own."
I smiled. "Sure."
He thanked me and moved his canvas closer to mine so we could share the colors easily. Soon, we were both absorbed in our work.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
We simply painted side by side.
When I reached for the blue paint, his hand reached for it at the same time. Our fingers brushed against each other.
We both froze. For a second, we just stared at one another.
I felt warmth spread across my face and quickly looked down, pretending to adjust my brush.
"Sorry," he said, pulling his hand back. "You can use it first. I'll wait."
Such a gentleman. I nodded, trying to act normal. "Thanks."
For the next half hour, we continued sharing colors and painting in comfortable silence. It was strangely peaceful. I loved the way my painting was turning out, and having Aaron beside me made the class feel even more enjoyable.
I was painting a place I had always dreamed of living in—a peaceful landscape far away from crowded streets, noisy classrooms, and people who made me feel unwanted.
There were tall green trees, colorful flowers, and warm sunlight shining over a small lake. White rabbits hopped through the grass near the water. At the edge of the scene stood a small, cozy house with a blue roof and a little garden outside.
It was the kind of place where I imagined myself living peacefully and happily.
Even looking at the painting made me feel as if I had escaped there.
"Wow."
I looked up and saw Aaron staring at my canvas. His eyes were filled with genuine admiration.
"I'm sorry," I said shyly. "Is it okay?"
"Okay?" he repeated. "No, seriously. You're really talented. The scenery, the brushstrokes, the colors… everything works so well together."
I didn't know what to say. He rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly looked embarrassed.
"Sorry," he added. "I still don't know your name."
"Sarah," I replied.
He smiled faintly. "Sarah," he repeated. "You're amazing. Good job. I might even need a few lessons from you."
I laughed softly. "I don't know about that."
We both giggled.
Then I saw him smile properly for the first time. Until then, he had always looked serious and distant, as if nothing could affect him. But now his face had completely changed. His smile was warm and beautiful.
I realized I had been staring. Come on, Sarah. Stop staring before this becomes awkward.
I quickly looked down at my painting.
Aaron's canvas was impressive too. His work had a quiet, aesthetic quality to it, as if he had created an entire world of his own. The colors blended beautifully, and every detail seemed carefully chosen.
He had raw talent. Maybe we're more alike than I thought, I wondered. Maybe painting is his comfort place too.
After some time, I reached for my water bottle and realized it was empty.
"I'm going to refill this," I said, standing up. "See you later."
"See you," Aaron replied.
I left the art room and walked toward the stairs leading to the floor below. The hallway was nearly empty, and my footsteps echoed against the walls.
I had just placed one foot on the first step when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Sarah."
My entire body stiffened. It was Lisa.
I turned around.
She was standing at the top of the stairs, her eyes narrowed and her face twisted with anger. Before I could ask what she wanted, she stepped toward me.
"What are you—"
I didn't get to finish.
Suddenly, I felt two hands shove me hard in the chest.
The force sent me stumbling backward.
My foot missed the step.
For one terrifying second, I tried to grab the railing, but my fingers closed around nothing.
Then I fell.
My body slammed against the stairs as I tumbled downward. Pain shot through my arms and back. My head struck the edge of one of the steps with a sickening impact.
The hallway spun around me.
The last thing I heard was someone screaming my name.
Then everything went black.