Chapter 1

Casey first met Isadore "Happy" Lowman when she was 16 and a junior in high school. Sure, she had seen him around, but never really met until they had an art class and were made partners together. He was 17 and a senior with a major chip on his shoulder. He ditched classes more than attending them. He hung out with the wrong crowd, always getting in trouble for fighting and had been to juvy a couple of times although Casey didn't know why, had only heard rumors. When he was in class, he didn't speak to her, only drew in his sketchbook, ignoring her completely. At first, this didn't bother Casey. She wasn't too bad in art, definitely not as good as Happy, but she could hold her own. What did bother Casey was that over the first part of the semester, she grew to enjoy sharing a table with him, drawing in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. And when he wasn't there, she began to realize she missed the silence between them, the smell of his cologne, Cool Water, the sound of his breathing and the peaceful look on his face when he was deep into his art. It was the only time she ever saw that, any other time he always had this intimidating look to him, but not when drawing, not when creating a masterpiece, it was only then that Casey felt she might possibly be witnessing the real Happy.

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas break that the teacher gave partners a project that would need to be completed before Christmas break. Each partner was to draw the other, according to how they saw each other. Casey was a little worried, a few months into the class and in all honesty she didn't think Happy had ever even looked her way. However, since this was not necessarily a portrait, she knew it would not be difficult, and she knew exactly how she wanted to draw him. So, the last day of class before break, the teacher instructed the partners to pull out their drawings and show their partners, then to place them on her desk before leaving for break.

Casey pulled hers out first. Happy had that same old intimidating look on his face, but when she placed his drawing in front of him, she thought she saw his face soften, even if only a little. She had drawn a simple picture of him as she saw him drawing in class. Concentration etched in his face, but there in his eyes were peace and love. He was sitting against a brick wall colored in graffiti, trash littering the sidewalk around him, but yet he was at peace. He looked up from the picture, and Casey swore she saw the trace of a smile while he looked in her eyes before he placed a picture in front of her. Looking down, she saw herself transitioning between multiple modes of dance, from ballet to tap, from street style to classic. Casey knew her jaw had dropped. How did he know she danced? She looked up to meet his eyes and instead of a menacing glare, she saw the peace she had drawn there. It seemed like hours but in reality was only minutes while they stared at each other, only broken apart by the ringing of the bell. And then, it was over. He picked up her picture and walked over to the teachers' desk to put it in the pile, then turned around one more time to look at her before leaving.

A week later, Casey performed in The Nutcracker in the local theater. After the show, she walked out with all the dancers to take their bows in front of the audience and as she was coming up from hers she spotted HIM in the very back, leaning against a wall. Their eyes locked again before he turned and walked out. Casey was a bundle of nerves. Why was he there? Was he there for her or someone else? He didn't seem the type to watch ballet and she could have sworn she had never seen him at the theater or the dance studio before. And why did she care anyways? She knew she felt different about him than other guys, but wasn't sure what kind of different it was. They never spoke, never looked at each other, at least that is what she thought. She couldn't stop thinking about him as she changed and threw her bag over her shoulder to prepare for the walk home. Walking out the back door of the theater with some of her friends, she stopped short when she saw Happy leaning against his bike, legs crossed and smoking. What was he doing there?

Happy hated school, the only reason he went when he did was to make sure his attendance didn't drop far enough for him to be kicked out. Not that he would care, but he had made a promise to his ma that he would get a high school diploma. No one in his family had ever finished high school, and being as his mother was the only person he really cared to please, he vowed not to let her down. He wasn't the best son, he knew that, however high school was easy and he knew this one thing would make her delighted beyond compare. Hell, he wasn't stupid, knew if he actually applied himself he would make better than just the average, but he knew that education was not what he wanted. He liked motorcycles, and wanted to see the world. He had learned about cars and trucks at a young age from reading manuals and tinkering around with salvaged parts. Before he was 16 he had rebuilt his bike, and that landed him his first and current job as a mechanic at the gas station up the street from his house. Helping his ma with the bills and putting away as much money as he could, he planned to leave Bakersfield the minute the diploma was in his hands.

He has taken art every year of high school, always keeping to himself. Then senior year a new teacher had arrived and given each student partners. Not what he wanted, but he knew he could keep to himself. He would watch Casey, when he did attend class, through the corners of his eye. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. So beautiful in fact, that he didn't know how to talk to her. She had long brown hair, deep blue eyes and gorgeous sun-kissed, toned skin. She didn't dress like most of the girls in their school, which was either slutty, gangster or preppy. She wore normal classy clothes, clothes that hugged her in all the right places but left things to the imagination.

When she drew, she would get this little crinkle line above her nose, right between the eyes. He always wanted to take his finger and gently rub it away, but could never make a move like that on her. She was different from the others. He had seen her come and go from the dance studio in their part of town. Once, he had even stood outside of the large window and watched. Yet again, he had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful, enough to make him go back more than once. The graceful way she moved when she glided across the floor, the sway of her hips when she performed the salsa, popping of her hips when she danced in street style, it was mesmerizing. He realized that dance to her was like drawing to him, peacefulness. It wasn't until he saw the picture she drew of him that he felt the energy drawing him to her come to a peak. He needed to know her, more of her.

So, he went by the dance studio one day and happened to see that there would be a production of the Nutcracker and he figured she would be in it. So he went to the theater the night of the show and paid the minimal admittance fee, taking a seat in the back. The lights went down and the theater became silent, and even from the distance he knew when she appeared on stage. He was so enthralled in the production and her movements that two hours flew by and the show was over. He quickly got up to leave just as the dancers were coming onstage to take their bows so he leaned up against the wall and watched as she swiftly moved across the stage with the others and took her bow. He never thought she would catch him watching her but when she did he was momentarily paralyzed.

Walking out of the theater to leave, he again felt some force pulling him to stay, so he decided to wait her out. Leaning against his bike and smoking cigarettes while the parking lot cleared he contemplated what he was doing. What was he going to say? He never had to say much to girls, they came on to him. The opening of the back stage door and women talking and laughing broke him from his thoughts, and there she was. Dressed in black yoga pants, a blue hoodie and blue Nikes with her hair still pulled up in a bun. She stopped when she saw him, starring while he stared back.