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div id="yui_3_16_0_1_1417258787225_2242" class="email-wrapped" style="text-align: left;""emOh my god/em! Anastasia what the hell have you done?" br /br /Red splatter and smears cover white walls and carpet, pooling at the bottom of the walls, with flecks dotting the dark bed sheets. I'm stood in the middle of the room, equally covered in red, with flecks of it on my face and streaks on my clothes. br /br /"I was painting, but things got... Out of hand." I grimace, only now noticing the mess I had made. br /br /"You've got paint everywhere, and why did it have to be red? We'll have to redo the whole room, we can't have it looking like the scene of a murder." Mother fusses, stepping daintily around the room, trying not to stand in any paint. br /br /"It'll be fine, I'll just flick some other colours around, it could be like... A fashion statement." My mother gives me a disapproving look, totally ignoring the canvas I'm stood in front of. br /br /"That's not the answer. Ana, you promised me you wouldn't make so much mess anymore, that you would be careful when you're painting." She uses that I'm-disappointed-in-you tone, and it takes everything I have to resist crumbling and apologising. br /br /"Art follows no rules." I shrug off her disappointment, turning back to the canvas and flicking the brush at it again, ignoring the line of spray the action leaves on the wall. br /br /"Sixteen year old girls do," mother yanks the brush out of my hand, "now go get cleaned up, you have your piano lesson, and Miss Johnson is threatening to drop you as a student if you keep showing up late and covered in paint, without practising. You have practiced, haven't you?" She asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as I try my best to look innocent. br /br /"Anastasia, please tell me you practiced that piece." Her voice goes up an octave in panic. The ashamed look on my face tells her everything she needs to know. br /br /"What am I going to do with you? You don't practice, or do your homework, or revise, even though your exams are just months away. All you do is paint! It's not good for your future, Ana." She chides gently, shooting the red-splattered canvas a disapproving look. br /br /"I paint because I enjoy it, because it's what I'm good at. I don't practice piano because I'm no good at it. And art will be my future, if I have anything to say about it." br /br /"You won't get better if you don't practice!" She cries, ignoring the last part of my statement. br /br /"I have been practicing, for 4 years, and if anything I've gotten worse." No hint of a lie, my piano skills are worse than abysmal. br /br /"Nonsense. It's because you waste your time with... With this!" She gestures widely at the canvas, using the hand holding the paintbrush. Droplets of red paint fly through the air, following the arch of my mothers swing, and splatter across the canvas, myself and the walls. Mother blushes. br /br /"I'll make an artist of you yet." I grin cheekily at her. br /br /"Not likely. Why must you always use red paint? It never comes out." She sighs. br /br /"I'm going through my red period?" I smile awkwardly and shrug. br /br /"Go shower and change, and make sure to get all the paint out of your hair this time." Mother drops the brush onto my desk as she storms out of the room in a righteous fury. br /br /"Sorry." I call after her. It is my fault she's upset, after all, because I made such a big mess. br /br /It really does look like I killed someone in here. br /br /I chuckle, and set out opening windows so I can break out the white spirit and bleach and hopefully save my room from a total makeover, courtesy of mother. Before I can, though, she barges back into the room, grabs me by the arm, and all but tosses me into the bathroom. br /br /"You have 10 minutes to shower, dress and get to Miss Johnson's house on time, so you had better be quick." She snaps, closing the door with a thump. I swear violently, almost tear my clothes as I'm trying to get them off, and dive into the shower. The water comes on ice cold, making me shriek, but I endure, because I'm running out of time. br /br /Miss Johnson's house is a good 10 minutes or so away if one were to walk, or 2 minutes by car with no traffic, but it looks like my mother isn't in the mood to give me a lift, so walking may be my only option. I could run, but it's been snowing for the past few days, and patches of ice dot the pavement, hidden by snow. Though it looks like I might have to try my luck with the ice, if I don't want to incur Miss Johnson's wrath. br /br /To be completely honest, I would rather not go to see Miss Johnson at all. She smells bad, has terrible teeth and always finds new ways to insult me, even if I practice more than her required amount. But I have to go, or mother will throw yet another fit. br /br /"Anastasia!" She yells up the stairs and I sigh, in the middle of washing my hair. br /br /"Yeah?" I call back, sputtering at the shampoo-ey water that flows into my mouth. Yuck. br /br /"Hurry up, you have 8 minutes!" Crap. I rinse my hair out, taking a moment to be glad I got it cut so short, dive out of the shower and hastily start drying off, before wrapping the towel around myself and darting out of the bathroom, down the hall and into my bedroom. br /br /I dress quickly in fleece-lined tights and a warm dark red dress, the run downstairs, while trying to shake the water out of my hair. I step quickly into a pair of little black boots, slip on my coat and a scarf, yell a quick goodbye, and set off running, forgetting all about the ice and the snow. br /br /Because if there is one thing in this world worse than cracking your head open on the pavement, it's showing up late to one of Miss Johnson's piano lessons. Unless you like being insulted and having a conductors baton rapped over your knuckles every time you get a note wrong. Which I do not. br /br /I sprint down snow-lined streets, coat flying out behind me, skidding round corners and frantically righting myself every time I slip. It seems that everywhere I turn, someone's laughing, but I ignore it, focusing on running as fast as I can and not slipping. br /br /"Be careful, miss!" Someone calls, and I yell a brief 'I will' over my shoulder at them, even as I almost slip running around a corner. br /br /"Don't fall don't fall don't fall." I say under my breath, repeating the words to myself over and over and over. Then I almost fall - again - and skid to a stop, taking a moment to just catch my breath. I check the time on my phone, and slump limply against the side of a building. I'm so late, Miss Johnson would just send me straight home with a smack and a scathing remark on my abilities as a human being. br /br /I sigh, and decide to just man up and accept my punishment, though I walk the last few blocks to Miss Johnson's house, my head hanging, mind half focused on where I'm stepping. br /br /I still slip, this time landing hard on my butt, which is a testament to my absolutely abysmal luck. br /br /"Ouch!" I yelp, scraping my palms as I try to catch myself. br /br /"Woah, hey, you alright?" Someone asks. br /br /"Yeah, fine, I just slipped." I say, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Someone saw me fall. Great. I try to brush some of the grit off my palms, hissing as it irritates the cuts. br /br /"Here." A pale hand reaches out into my line of sight, and I take it, allowing the stranger to pull me up. I finally raise me gaze to see an absolutely gorgeous boy stood in front of me, with a dazzling grin on his face. br /br /"Thanks." I smile awkwardly at him, gently closing my fists to hide the blood. Then he looks down at his hand. br /br /"You're bleeding!" He exclaims, immediately grabbing my hands and turning them palms up to assess the damage. br /br /"It's fine, just a little graze." I shrug off his concern, or try to. My cheeks just burn hotter. He keeps turning my hands over, frowning at the cuts, as if that's going to make them go away. br /br /"Seriously, I'm okay, but I'm really late for something, so if you could give me back my hands..." I say, pulling my hands away a little bit. br /br /"Oh, right sorry, it's just... Hi." He has this goofy smile on his face, and I blush harder, feeling the tips of my ears heat up. br /br /"Hey. Sorry, I've got to..." I point down the street. br /br /"Oh yeah, of course, right." He takes a step back, letting my hands drop finally. I nod, and start walking off down the street towards Miss Johnson's house. Then I stop, turn, and call out to the boy; br /br /"I'm not going to be more than a couple of minutes, so if you want, we could go get coffee or something?" He turns back to me and grins widely, jogging to catch up with me. br /br /"Yeah, that'd be cool." He's grinning still, looking for all the world like he's never been happier than in this moment. br /br /"So what's you're name?" I ask as we walk slowly to Miss Johnson's house. br /br /"Jack, and yours?" He asks in reply. br /br /"Anastasia." br /br /"That's a great name." He comments, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. br /br /"Mm. Could you just wait right here for a moment? I'll be back in, like, two seconds." I walk backwards, holding my hands out to try to get him to wait. Then I slip. On ice. Again. A long, cool arm wraps around my waist, catching me before I hit the ground, and suddenly I'm nose to nose with Jack. br /br /"Careful." He smirks, and I nod slightly. br /br /"Uh-huh." br /br /"Anastasia! If you have time to practice gymnastics, then you should be able to come to your lessons on time!" Miss Johnson screeches, leaning slightly out of her window. br /br /"Sorry, Miss Johnson!"
I yell, then, "... She can't see you?" I frown up at Jack, stomach dropping faster than a lead weight. br /br /"No one can, except you." He says softly. br /br /"Useless girl!" The old hag snaps, before slamming the window shut. br /br /"What do you mean only I can see you?" I grip the shoulders of Jack's jumper and struggle upright. Jack doesn't move his arm from around my waist. br /br /"Exactly what I said, no one else can see me, only you can."/div
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div id="yui_3_16_0_1_1417258787225_2242" class="email-wrapped" style="text-align: left;""emOh my god/em! Anastasia what the hell have you done?" br /br /Red splatter and smears cover white walls and carpet, pooling at the bottom of the walls, with flecks dotting the dark bed sheets. I'm stood in the middle of the room, equally covered in red, with flecks of it on my face and streaks on my clothes. br /br /"I was painting, but things got... Out of hand." I grimace, only now noticing the mess I had made. br /br /"You've got paint everywhere, and why did it have to be red? We'll have to redo the whole room, we can't have it looking like the scene of a murder." Mother fusses, stepping daintily around the room, trying not to stand in any paint. br /br /"It'll be fine, I'll just flick some other colours around, it could be like... A fashion statement." My mother gives me a disapproving look, totally ignoring the canvas I'm stood in front of. br /br /"That's not the answer. Ana, you promised me you wouldn't make so much mess anymore, that you would be careful when you're painting." She uses that I'm-disappointed-in-you tone, and it takes everything I have to resist crumbling and apologising. br /br /"Art follows no rules." I shrug off her disappointment, turning back to the canvas and flicking the brush at it again, ignoring the line of spray the action leaves on the wall. br /br /"Sixteen year old girls do," mother yanks the brush out of my hand, "now go get cleaned up, you have your piano lesson, and Miss Johnson is threatening to drop you as a student if you keep showing up late and covered in paint, without practising. You have practiced, haven't you?" She asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as I try my best to look innocent. br /br /"Anastasia, please tell me you practiced that piece." Her voice goes up an octave in panic. The ashamed look on my face tells her everything she needs to know. br /br /"What am I going to do with you? You don't practice, or do your homework, or revise, even though your exams are just months away. All you do is paint! It's not good for your future, Ana." She chides gently, shooting the red-splattered canvas a disapproving look. br /br /"I paint because I enjoy it, because it's what I'm good at. I don't practice piano because I'm no good at it. And art will be my future, if I have anything to say about it." br /br /"You won't get better if you don't practice!" She cries, ignoring the last part of my statement. br /br /"I have been practicing, for 4 years, and if anything I've gotten worse." No hint of a lie, my piano skills are worse than abysmal. br /br /"Nonsense. It's because you waste your time with... With this!" She gestures widely at the canvas, using the hand holding the paintbrush. Droplets of red paint fly through the air, following the arch of my mothers swing, and splatter across the canvas, myself and the walls. Mother blushes. br /br /"I'll make an artist of you yet." I grin cheekily at her. br /br /"Not likely. Why must you always use red paint? It never comes out." She sighs. br /br /"I'm going through my red period?" I smile awkwardly and shrug. br /br /"Go shower and change, and make sure to get all the paint out of your hair this time." Mother drops the brush onto my desk as she storms out of the room in a righteous fury. br /br /"Sorry." I call after her. It is my fault she's upset, after all, because I made such a big mess. br /br /It really does look like I killed someone in here. br /br /I chuckle, and set out opening windows so I can break out the white spirit and bleach and hopefully save my room from a total makeover, courtesy of mother. Before I can, though, she barges back into the room, grabs me by the arm, and all but tosses me into the bathroom. br /br /"You have 10 minutes to shower, dress and get to Miss Johnson's house on time, so you had better be quick." She snaps, closing the door with a thump. I swear violently, almost tear my clothes as I'm trying to get them off, and dive into the shower. The water comes on ice cold, making me shriek, but I endure, because I'm running out of time. br /br /Miss Johnson's house is a good 10 minutes or so away if one were to walk, or 2 minutes by car with no traffic, but it looks like my mother isn't in the mood to give me a lift, so walking may be my only option. I could run, but it's been snowing for the past few days, and patches of ice dot the pavement, hidden by snow. Though it looks like I might have to try my luck with the ice, if I don't want to incur Miss Johnson's wrath. br /br /To be completely honest, I would rather not go to see Miss Johnson at all. She smells bad, has terrible teeth and always finds new ways to insult me, even if I practice more than her required amount. But I have to go, or mother will throw yet another fit. br /br /"Anastasia!" She yells up the stairs and I sigh, in the middle of washing my hair. br /br /"Yeah?" I call back, sputtering at the shampoo-ey water that flows into my mouth. Yuck. br /br /"Hurry up, you have 8 minutes!" Crap. I rinse my hair out, taking a moment to be glad I got it cut so short, dive out of the shower and hastily start drying off, before wrapping the towel around myself and darting out of the bathroom, down the hall and into my bedroom. br /br /I dress quickly in fleece-lined tights and a warm dark red dress, the run downstairs, while trying to shake the water out of my hair. I step quickly into a pair of little black boots, slip on my coat and a scarf, yell a quick goodbye, and set off running, forgetting all about the ice and the snow. br /br /Because if there is one thing in this world worse than cracking your head open on the pavement, it's showing up late to one of Miss Johnson's piano lessons. Unless you like being insulted and having a conductors baton rapped over your knuckles every time you get a note wrong. Which I do not. br /br /I sprint down snow-lined streets, coat flying out behind me, skidding round corners and frantically righting myself every time I slip. It seems that everywhere I turn, someone's laughing, but I ignore it, focusing on running as fast as I can and not slipping. br /br /"Be careful, miss!" Someone calls, and I yell a brief 'I will' over my shoulder at them, even as I almost slip running around a corner. br /br /"Don't fall don't fall don't fall." I say under my breath, repeating the words to myself over and over and over. Then I almost fall - again - and skid to a stop, taking a moment to just catch my breath. I check the time on my phone, and slump limply against the side of a building. I'm so late, Miss Johnson would just send me straight home with a smack and a scathing remark on my abilities as a human being. br /br /I sigh, and decide to just man up and accept my punishment, though I walk the last few blocks to Miss Johnson's house, my head hanging, mind half focused on where I'm stepping. br /br /I still slip, this time landing hard on my butt, which is a testament to my absolutely abysmal luck. br /br /"Ouch!" I yelp, scraping my palms as I try to catch myself. br /br /"Woah, hey, you alright?" Someone asks. br /br /"Yeah, fine, I just slipped." I say, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Someone saw me fall. Great. I try to brush some of the grit off my palms, hissing as it irritates the cuts. br /br /"Here." A pale hand reaches out into my line of sight, and I take it, allowing the stranger to pull me up. I finally raise me gaze to see an absolutely gorgeous boy stood in front of me, with a dazzling grin on his face. br /br /"Thanks." I smile awkwardly at him, gently closing my fists to hide the blood. Then he looks down at his hand. br /br /"You're bleeding!" He exclaims, immediately grabbing my hands and turning them palms up to assess the damage. br /br /"It's fine, just a little graze." I shrug off his concern, or try to. My cheeks just burn hotter. He keeps turning my hands over, frowning at the cuts, as if that's going to make them go away. br /br /"Seriously, I'm okay, but I'm really late for something, so if you could give me back my hands..." I say, pulling my hands away a little bit. br /br /"Oh, right sorry, it's just... Hi." He has this goofy smile on his face, and I blush harder, feeling the tips of my ears heat up. br /br /"Hey. Sorry, I've got to..." I point down the street. br /br /"Oh yeah, of course, right." He takes a step back, letting my hands drop finally. I nod, and start walking off down the street towards Miss Johnson's house. Then I stop, turn, and call out to the boy; br /br /"I'm not going to be more than a couple of minutes, so if you want, we could go get coffee or something?" He turns back to me and grins widely, jogging to catch up with me. br /br /"Yeah, that'd be cool." He's grinning still, looking for all the world like he's never been happier than in this moment. br /br /"So what's you're name?" I ask as we walk slowly to Miss Johnson's house. br /br /"Jack, and yours?" He asks in reply. br /br /"Anastasia." br /br /"That's a great name." He comments, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. br /br /"Mm. Could you just wait right here for a moment? I'll be back in, like, two seconds." I walk backwards, holding my hands out to try to get him to wait. Then I slip. On ice. Again. A long, cool arm wraps around my waist, catching me before I hit the ground, and suddenly I'm nose to nose with Jack. br /br /"Careful." He smirks, and I nod slightly. br /br /"Uh-huh." br /br /"Anastasia! If you have time to practice gymnastics, then you should be able to come to your lessons on time!" Miss Johnson screeches, leaning slightly out of her window. br /br /"Sorry, Miss Johnson!"
I yell, then, "... She can't see you?" I frown up at Jack, stomach dropping faster than a lead weight. br /br /"No one can, except you." He says softly. br /br /"Useless girl!" The old hag snaps, before slamming the window shut. br /br /"What do you mean only I can see you?" I grip the shoulders of Jack's jumper and struggle upright. Jack doesn't move his arm from around my waist. br /br /"Exactly what I said, no one else can see me, only you can."/div
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