A/N: Right, well I was having incredibly bad issues with my computer with this story, and couldn't get my hands on another to type it, and I just finally figured out where it's going, so I'll try to update as fast as my slow fan-fiction writing self can!
THE ART TEACHER
Chapter 2
The Artist
I walked down the hall a ways after coming out of the office, which was situated at the front entrance. The maddeningly ugly carpet that covered most of all of the building turned to a reddish brown tile. I passed what looked like the art room- not allowing myself to stop- and what was most definitely the gym.
The way to the music room, my new classroom, was at the end of the hallway. There was a section of wall the stopped about mid-waist there. If I took a left I could walk up the handicap ramp, but I took the curved steps to my left, then turned left. This was were the Handicap ramp met the small stairs, right in front of the door.
My classroom wasn't all that big. It was longer than it was length in width, and not really a classroom at all. It was really the stage that opened up to the gym, were concerts and plays were held. A foldaway beige carpeted wall was the only separation from the gym. Not even soundproof, I'd bet the PE teacher and I would have some fun trying to yell over each other.
There were at least five stacks –each of five- chairs pushed against the wall to the right of the entrance. A small white board on wheels that looked like a sheet of blank music paper was pushed up against the left wall. There were some old, dusty brass instruments handing on the white walls. On the far side of the room was a small stairway that snaked around to the gym. There was an old black stereo next to the whiteboard, and a door next to that.
Overall, with a couple of cabinets to make it look less gloomy, it was rather dull.
I walked over to the door and unlocked it with a set of keys that I'd acquired. This was my office. Woo… how exciting. I'd left the classroom lights off, so it was dark, but I flicked the little room's light switch on, examining the room. There was no attempt to make this room look less dull, all the bookshelves and the desk where empty (aside from the many copies of music books that filled one whole bookshelf). It looked lonely, and almost depressing. I'd have to bring in some stuff to make my office and the classroom to make it more homey, the poor kids.
I'd heard that the previous teacher –who finally stepped down into retirement- often broke into rants about his involvement in the second World War. I can't imagine myself being able to sit through a man talk about the war in a hazy voice when I was eight, so I'm glad that I am finally here to replace him.
I sat down on the rolley plastic chair and started filling in some papers.
~*~
I was bored out of my mind within a hour, I was starting to separate each tick that came from the clock in the classroom. Summer had just started, so I wasn't expecting any kids to teach anytime soon.
I heard footsteps on the tile of the hallway and the sound a keys being messed with before a door opening. I thought nothing of it at first, but it wasn't ten minutes later when I started to think differently.
It was becoming hard to think straight as the loud, happy, up-beat music came in from the classroom that was entered. I could slightly feel the bass (pronounced Base) of the song vibrate from my feet (which were flat on the ground).
I tried ignoring it at first, but that didn't last long. I felt a slight anger ride in me. The teacher wasn't even considering their co-workers! What a horrible working environment! Though, it was certainly better than the one I had at my old job. I'd much rather stand this than them any day.
Finally I set down the pencil in my hand, a bit harder than necessary, and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. This was a sort of habit I'd gained over the years, when I was overwhelmed or angry. This all started around the time when my brother was born…
Well, on that good note, I stood, the chair pushed back by the back of my knees. I set my destination clearly in my mind.
Blowing outside my window as I look around the room
And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom
The Art room was in front of me, the door shut but not all the way. I knocked after a moment of standing there.
there's not a soul out there
no one to hear my prayer
No answer. I heard to the voice on the other end, slightly off key compared to the singers, but still quite beautiful in it's own way. I took in a large breath of air before silently pushing open the door.
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
Standing there was a small brunette. She had her back turned from me, facing a window. In front of her was an easel with a large canvas on it. I blinked as she threw her arms out, head tilted back with her eyes closed as she nearly belted out the chorus. Paint flew to either side of the room from the brushed she held.
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
I was nearly taken away by her face. Delicate lids ended in thick, dark lashes that covered eyes. A cute button nose and a stroke of yellowish paint on the pale forehead, some of it lightening strands of the baby hairs in front. Cheeks slightly flushed from the effort of the singing. I watched, intrigued, as she straightened again, her long hair a deep melted chocolate that ran to about mid-back, if not lower.
A smile slowly established on my face as I watched her move the brush smoothly over the canvas. I felt a small twitch in my chest to watch how delicate she held the brush, as if it were some sort of lifeline that could snap with the slightest sorrow. It was like it was the only thing that connected her to the painting as it cradled the forming picture in strokes.
Her hips where rocking slightly to the song, clumsily and not much in rhythm with the music. She went to humming the next part, not seeming to know the words. Sometimes her hums were off.
Movie stars
Find the end of the rainbow, with a fortune to win
It's so different from the world I'm living in
Tired of T.V.
I open the window and I gaze into the night
But there's nothing there to see, no one in sight
I watched as she started to spin around, preparing for the chorus again. Then, when she was facing me, she stopped short, the foot that had been scooting her around swiped under the other leg, leaving a brief- and awkward- moment where she tried to restable herself. I wasn't thinking, all I was doing was moving.
"Kiyah- oof!" she squeaked, I had a hold of her hand before she fell flat on her back. She grunted when I tried to pull her up, and panic attacked every feeling in my body as her head snapped back dangerously.
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
"Are you alright?" I asked, she had nearly collided into my chest, and reached out her arms, grabbing my shirt to pull herself up and wrap her arms around my torso. The weight of her falling back with the momentum nearly brought me with her, I reached out quickly and gripped a table that was nearby. It creaked a bit from the pressure, but decided to not flip on me.
"Woah!" I breathed, looking down at the women. She still had her arms wrapped firmly around my stomach, her face digging into my shirt. I could feel her nose poking into my belly button. Her hot, smothered breaths ran through the fabric of my shirt and tickled my skin. I repeated my earlier question.
"Are you alright?" she took in a quick breath, mumbling something faintly, before letting go of me and maneuvering herself so that she wasn't pulling me down. I stood too, eyeing the deep red of her face.
"Uh… yeah, yeah I'm fine!" she glanced back at me, her eyes narrowing for a long moment. I winced when she pinched herself and let out a squeak. "I think…"
I nodded, looking over her. Her hair was more than a bit ruffled, her face flushed enough to rival a strawberry… mmmm… she smells like strawberries. I shook myself to rid the thoughts.
"Right, well…" then the canvas caught my eye. I turned my head to fully to look at it. The colors seemed soft, like a dream view of the picture, I could only make out faint shapes and blobs, but there was some slow detail in it. I could see that the brown blob had to be wood, because I saw texture and a knot. It looked like there was a bench there, and a figure-like thing sitting on it. "Wow…"
"It's.. It's really still just starting to show up, but it's suppose to be a man playing a piano," the women explained, pointing it out. Her fingertips were almost touching it, but not enough to smudge. "I got the inspiration when I heard that there was a new music teacher. He's really just blotches now, but hopefully I can make him look like the him."
I nodded, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She bit her lip awkwardly, looking at my face again. "Sorry, but do I know you?" she asked. "You seem almost familiar."
I searched my memory for her. Why wouldn't I have remembered such a face? "Uh… I'm not sure. I'm Edward Cullen," I held out my hand for her to shake. It was how greetings went, so why was I doing it just to feel more of the pale skin? "The new music teacher,"
"Oh!" she explained, jumping around to look at the painting, rubbing her chin in playful seriousness before looking right at my face. "You'll be fun to paint, you're hair will make you look a bit like a Japanese anime character, though." She nodded, completely sure of herself. "But anime characters look cool, so don't sweat. Maybe you just moved here, were are you living?"
I explained where I lived, and her eyes lit up animatedly. "Aha! We must be neighbors, right that's were I saw you! Out the window, that's why you don' remember me." She took the hand with a wide smile. "Bella Swan, the art teacher."
Right, review! That's what spurred me on to write this chapter, review and hopefully I'll get inspiration to write the next!
Okay, so I tried to picture my elementary school from long ago, but I think I only got about half of the picture right, and I made some things better knowingly.
