She pushed the other students out of her way as she run. The bell ring, and announce it was the start of the new period. Almost every other student rush in the other direction, wich made her journey hard and annoying. "Let me through!"
When she finally got to the class, her hands shake as she pushed the door open. Her new light- blond- light- orange hair made some people stare at her. When she finally opened the door she almost run in.
The art room was always empty at the middle of the day. Most of the students had another class, or just didn't saw the potential. Clary, from the other hand, lived for the middle of the day. She had free period every Monday that just waited to go the art class. When she put her bag on the table, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. The smell of paint and chemicals made her feel at home, at last.
Simon was spouse to come over every second. She walked around the room, nervous. Her body sweat from excitement. If only she could have skip the time already.
Until her best friend finally opened the door and walked in, she thought she might explode. He froze at the entrance, staring at her. "What's wrong with your hair?"
"Last night Maia fixed my roots and the power died. We left it too long and then we were had to fix all of it," she walked over him, stress. "What took you so long?"
Simon walked in. He opened her bag and looked in. "Matt wrote a new song and he asked my opinion and then- there it is!" He pulled out the letter. "Then he got angry when I told him it needed improvement."
Clary turned around. Her eyes focused on the window. She could not turn back. That latter holds her future in it. "I think I'm goanna be sick."
Simon tsk. "It's just a competition fray."
"I know, but they answer quicker then I thought!" She waved her hands, unsure how to explain it. Simon was musician. If there was a riot on stage or anything, the blame can be of each on of the band or of one of them. It was not like that in art. Your secession, your failures, it is all yours. If they send her rejection so fast, she would loose it. Her art was the only thing in her life that always had been there with her. "It could mean only one thing-"
"They fall in love with your art," Simon cut her off, "And could not control themselves!"
"-They didn't even looked at my art!" She continue. "They had read the attachment latter, and decided that a high school student is too risky."
"Your art teacher wan this competition three times, and she called the judges to ask them to give you a chance."
"Chance does not mean I'm in." She pointed back on where she thought was the latter. "Read it. I'm too coward."
Simon didn't hesitate. He opened the envelope and started to read the note to himself. His eyebrows drew close to each other. "Well-"
"No. I knew it. They didn't liked it-"
"Not exactly."
Clary finally turned to look at him. "A no is a no, no?"
"This is not a no," he handed her the note. "And neither yes."
"What?" She looked at the latter. Her eyes followed after every word, eager to see what it said. Her mind couldn't process what she saw, not in her state. Not with the stress she felt. When she read the last sentence, her face frowned. She looked up to Simon. "They are insane!"
"They liked your art. They think it has a potential," he pointed on the third sentence, "they used those exact words!"
"But they said that they want to see another side in my paintings." She read the rest, "-'As underground and quality your work is, we think you didn't reached yet your full potential. We give you another try. Send us by the end of this month one painting that you think could express one of your feelings the most. Prove us you have more to say about subjects we might have not yet heard of-"
"It means they like your art!"
Clary looked up at him. If before she felt stress, now she thought she might burn the world. She folded the note. "It means they think my art says nothing."
"Clary-"
"No," shook her head, determined to stop Si comfort. He knew her better then anyone else, grew up with her and was the brother she never had. If he didn't understand that, no one could understand how humiliated she was. "Can't you see? This is the biggest humility that an artist could have! The different between an artist to someone who likes to paint or to sculpture is what they say. If your art doesn't say anything, then you are not an artist."
"But they do think there is a massege in your art! They called it 'underground'!"
"They say that I'm saying things that have already been said." It took all of Clary's inner power not to yell. What a nerve they had! "You don't get it! You are a musician. It's like that you'll sing a love song or something and your people would tell you that your song sounds too similar to a song that another singer played."
Simon opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He must have realized what she meant. They stand there for a minute, looking at each other, each one busy with his own thoughts. Clary's mind repeated over and over about the sentences she just read. Different emotions filled her. Anger, sadness, disappointment. It all blur together and left her confused. She wished she never had tried to enter the contest.
When she finally started to calm, Simon pulled her to a hug. "So what are you goanna do?" He broke the silent.
Clary baited her lower lip, ignoring from the way his eyes were focused on her mouth. "They gave me a month to send them another piece of my work. That is enough time and even more. Gauss I'll create something new and send them it."
"It would be fine," he plant a soft kiss on her temple, his lips staying more then needed on her skin. "You are an amazing artist, and you have a massage to say. All you need to do is to find what it is. I'll help."
"Hope you right," Clary pulled herself away from him and pretended she didn't notice the disappointed in his eyes. "Though I think it needs to be something I'll find alone."
The bell ring again.
No one had hang out at the back of the school. Some of the students smoked there once, but when the school found out about it they put it an end. That was why no one notice that on the wall between the two dustbins appeared a hole. No one noticed the three figures who stepped out of the portal, wearing all black and leather jackets. The first one who walked in frown the second he smelled the air. He brushed his golden locks away from his face. "Mundane makes the most awful smell," he said, disgust.
The girl behind him rolled her dark eyes. "If you hate mundane smell all that much, why had you joined the mission?"
"I'll tell you why," the third one said. He shared the same black raven hair with her, and the same face sculpture. The one different between them was that he had blue eyes. "Because he can't stay still five minouts. If there is a mission, and not matter what it is, he feel like he have to do it."
One corner of the man's mouth raised up. "Why leave you two all the fun?" He pulled out a metallic square from his pocket and looked at it. The device beeped five times. "He is here, somewhere."
The girl looked at the wall behind them. The portal closed by now, leaving behind nothing but a brick wall. "High school? What he has to do here?"
Her male version shrugged. "Looking for a virgin? Who knows?"
"Come on," the blond one started to walk around the wall. "If we'll finish this now, we might come back before dinner."
"Ugh!" Clary smashed her head against the wall. Luckly for her, no one had been out there to see it. She watched Simon harry to his class before she decided to skip hers. When she was alone, the shame was stronger and harder. She knew that even if she did go to class, she couldn't study anything. She was too mad.
Ever since Clary was a child, she knew that she would be an artist like her mother. The hours she spend on painting classes and the pages she destroyed for unperfected sketches meant the world to her. She knew that no matter how hard she'll try, nothing would capture her like art did. It was her life. This competition meant to be her first step.
Clary looked at the down of the stairs. Subject for a new art work was always hard for her to find. She talked about things that have mattered to her- feminism, school's rotten way. Things that people had talked too much about.
She opened her bag, and pulled out her sketch book. When she opened the first page, she saw her most beautiful piece. "The dark prince," this was how she called him. If only she could have send him to the judgment. No one would have been bother to find meaning or massege when they would see him. He was far too handsome, with his black eyes and white horse. She wondered what would he think about her art. Without thinking, her fingers touched the page. "What do you think?" She asked him quietly.
Rushed steps sound filled the hallway. Clary raised her eyes from the page just in time to see her step sister rushing to her class. "What's with you?" She asked Aline in her imgination.
Her dark hair fall on her face as she rushed to the biologic lab. The others already were there, standing in the corner. Except to Seelie, who stand two steps away from her friends, they all were scared. "You were late," she told her.
Aline didn't said a word. She walked quietly to the class and harry to the others, trying not to make a sound.
"Your friend got a point," a low, deep voice with a British accent said. "Last time that it happened. I will not allow another late."
They all turned to look at him, siting on the teacher chair. His blond- almost -white hair covered part of his face, but they all could feel his black eyes study them. His pose seemed calm, and Aline couldn't notice how fitting was the title 'teacher' for him. Well, maybe if he didn't wear this ridicules black velvet coat. he shake lightly.
Seelie- who never even looked at the adults when they talked with her- bow her head as an sign for respect. "Aline is very sorry, master," she said with her sweet voice. "She did not meant it to happened, and it will not happened."
The man put his legs on the table. "Hope for her. Did you all got what I have ordered you?"
The four of them share a look before they walked over him. Each one opened her bag and pulled out the bunch of herbs from their pocket. So far all he had asked them was mint, basil and parsley- thank god he did not knew that they got it easily from the market, or he might have wanted something harder to prove their loyalty. He took those from the girls shaken hands- which made Kaelie squiq- and smelled each one of the herbs. "Good," he said, pleased. "That was your first test."
Helen pinched Aline's hand lightly.
Seelie bow her head. "What is our next mission?"
The man looked directly at her. "Someone is very excited to serve."
"Only for you, my master. Only for you."
God bless LA victims and their families. It's disgusting to think there are pepole out there who can do such terrible actions:(
As for the story- most of the information I'll be using in the next chapters is real. For example Oleander is a real poisend flower. You don't need to google every single thing you don't know- Clary knows about flowers for a reasons I'll explane in the future, and everything that would be related to history would be explained as well.
As well, I'm asking again- please let me know what I need to edit so the seccond version of the story would be better!
