"Where the hell are you taking me?!" I had no idea where I was, not even a remote guess. All I knew was that my captor had blindfolded me, tied my hands together and threw me into the backseat of their car. I don't even know how they got into my house without my Mom noticing. I hoped she was okay.

I struggled to get free, slamming my body against the car door. That was not going to work for me anytime soon. Maybe if I…. I fiddled with my hands to see if I could untie my hands. I was met with a surprise. Is that my jump rope?

I felt the car slowly skid to a stop. My door was opened and I was slowly escorted out of the vehicle. The air stank of barbeque, onions and caramel. The sounds of screaming kids filled my eardrum, a sound that annoyed me to no end. Where was I?

My answer was soon met with the removal of my blindfold… and I met the eyes of my best friend, Natasha.

"Surprise!" She exclaimed with a smile. It suddenly all made sense. Only she would be able to walk into the house with my mom's approval and pretend to be a deranged kidnapper to get me out of the house. I wanted so badly to just punch her for scaring me, but I thought against it. Good friends really were hard to find, especially one like her that made life so interesting with crazy plans such as this.

"You tied me up and stuck me in the back of a car all to bring me to the street fair?" I asked grudgingly. She nodded her head. "Why?"

"Well, I didn't know what I'd do if you said no."

"You know I hate places like this." I've always felt uncomfortable in crowds, specifically ones that required social interaction with people like the perv in the ice cream truck.

"Well your mom and I thought you needed to get out of the house."

"But I have my art project due in two weeks!"

"That is exactly the reason I've brought you here. You need to get out and explore the world around you more. You're art will be much better if you see it instead of locking yourself in your room all hours of the day!"

I just shook my head, "You are the most psychotic friend I probably will ever have." She laughed as she began to walk away. Oh crap. "Would you at least untie me?"

She laughed as she took off my jump rope handcuffs, "You seriously need to learn to have some fun." Apparently she thought everything out, because as she put the jump rope away, she traded it for my bag and tossed it to me.

"I can have fun!"

"Uh, sitting in your room and doing nothing but doodling is not having fun."

"And wandering around a street buying stuff from perverts and creeps is?"

"It's called having an adventure, which you won't have if you just stand here." She grabbed me by my wrist and pull me towards the action. "C'mon!"

She brought me to different stands with owners that I swore sold drugs on the side. I didn't need to ask. The smell of the air said it all.

Natasha literally dragged me to almost every booth possible. She even made me look at the cheap, knockoff toys that would probably break within five minutes of use. How old did she think we were? Seven? Two?

"Natasha, we're not kids," I said, picking up a bad rendition of a Barbie doll and tossing her back into the bin.

"So?" She replied, trying on a neon colored sombrero, "C'mon, Cass, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Back at home with my art," I mumbled as Natasha placed the hat back and skipped away. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my mom's number. I was putting an end to this once and for all.

"Hello?" Her voice answered after three rings.

"Mom, could you come and get me?"

"Already? But sweetie you've only been there ten minutes!"

My eyes widened, "You knew?! Why did-?"

"You need to get out of the house more. It's concerning me that you spend all your time in your room instead of spending at least some time with your friends."

"I do spend time with my friends!"

"Skype does not count." I opened my mouth to rebuttal when she said, "Phone calls and texts don't count either."

I sighed, "But mom-."

"No buts. Have fun, I'll see you soon. I have a caller on hold. Love you!"

"Wait-!" I lowered the phone from my ear in defeat. There was no use even trying to walk home from here. I was stuck.

And what's worse, I turned around to find that I was lost as well.

"Natasha!" I screamed out into the crowd. No response. Just the loud sounds of classic rock and screaming vendors.

Of course, I thought to myself, she would take off without me.

Thinking of nothing else, I wandered through the fair, trying not to make eye contact with any freakshows. I wasn't interested in buying anything. I just wanted to find Natasha and get the hell out of here.

Despite my determination, my eyes kept wandering to this one booth near the library. It appeared to be a booth for some type of art exhibit. As much as I didn't want it too, my curiosity got the best of me.

I decided to take a look.

Two large tables sat side-by-side, with portraits and paintings on every corner. I stared at one that looked like vibrant green leaves swirling in a starry night sky. It seemed so otherworldly….

"Find something you like?" I looked up. The man looked to be in his thirties, but his eyes made him seem ageless. The sleeves of his white, collared shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The latter was tucked into his blue jeans, which were held up by a black belt and suspenders. I took a mental note of his red Converse sneakers and his red and white striped newsboy hat. It was an unusual pairing, but one that seemed to work.

"I'm just looking," I responded, avoiding eye contact.

"Ah, searching for some inspiration, I see. Well, if you have questions about anything, feel free to ask." I continued looking at other art pieces and picked up one that showed tropical colored trees and mountains. "That one was created by local artist Henry Flit. He was supposedly inspired by the sunsets in the Sierra Mountains."

"Interesting…." I placed the painting down and continued browsing at the other pieces. As I lifted what appeared to be a Picaso-esque living room, my eye caught the edge of a leather book. A closer inspection revealed that it was a sketchbook.

It didn't look like anything special. It was flat, appeared to barely have any pages and the leather cover appeared to have many tears and cracks. Still, I felt drawn to it. As if it had gone through years of use and abuse to land in my lap.

"See something?"

The words left my mouth before I could fight them back, "What's in the book?"

"Well," he began, picking it up. "It depends on your perspective on things."

"So…. It's blank? There's nothing in it."

"That depends on what your imagination creates. You see," he continued, opening to a clear page, "To you this maybe nothing. But I see a million things in this page. Albino panda bears, invisible ice sculptures, staircases that go up to the moon…."

I tried not to laugh, "That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."

"It's all in the imagination. Sometimes you need to create the ridiculous to create something incredible."

"Okay…."

"Here." The man held out the book to me. "It never hurts to use a sketchbook to let out your thoughts, even the supposedly stupid ones."

"I don't know…." I responded hesistantly.

"If it's the price your worried about, don't. Free of charge." I thought it over.

The truth with my artist's block wasn't that I didn't have any ideas. I had too many ridiculous ones! I mean when I tried drawing that morning I immediately wanted to draw a creature with a net for a tail! If that wasn't crazy and impractical I didn't know what was.

But maybe releasing all this craziness in this sketchbook was just what I needed.

I carefully took the sketchbook from his hands, hoping that it wouldn't suddenly crumble form my touch.

A smile lit up on his face, "I hope it helps."

"Thanks."

He held out his hand, "The name's Katturman. James Katturman."

I took his hand and shook firmly, "I'm Cassidy. My friends call me-."

"Casi!" I turned, releasing my grip immediately. Natasha was running after me, out of breath. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Don't ever take off on me again!"

"Me?! You're the one who skipped off without me!"

"Anyway, I'm starving. Let's go!" She skipped away again, leaving me with Mr. Katturman.

He tipped his hat to me, "Good luck with your art, Miss Casi."

I smiled, "Thank you." I walked in the direction of my best friend, who appeared to be struggling between choosing caramel apples or kettle corn. I hugged the sketchbook closer to me, as if it would be my shield in case any more insanity ensued before I could go home.