February break is all this week, I'll try to update as much as possible, but I need to do a bunch of stuff for the school musical (yes, even over break they demand that we work).

I hope this doesn't annoy anyone, but I have some ideas I want to put out, but I need to fast forward to get these idea's out (which will likely be big points in the story) so now it's the end of October, and will probably be going fast for a while. Sorry if this bugs anyone…

We all sat down after doing the Pledge of Allegiance and waited for the morning announcements.

I never listened to them, but then one thing caught my ear. Art contest. I think that was what whoever speaks in the morning said.

I looked at Fang, he gave me a look, just by the expression on his face I knew I had heard art.

I stopped doodling in my notebook and listened "…the annual art contest is coming up, the first round of submitted work is due in three weeks, on Friday, November 12. You must sign up by Friday, October 28. For more details see Mr. Bays in the art room D2…"

Then I zoned out. I was busy thinking. I heard the guy talking mention homecoming dance, but I couldn't care less about that.

I had heard about this contest, I remember hearing about it when I was eleven, but realized it was for grades 9-12 only.

I knew there was an art museum in Phoenix that had a whole room dedicated to the year's winners, the art was displayed throughout the room, then replaced with the next years winners. Basically the prize was your art being displayed for a whole year in the Phoenix Art Museum.

There are eight districts in Arizona, three students are chosen from each district, as far as I knew.

I tried to look at my chances. Eight districts, three from eight districts, that was 24 winners. Only three from my district. The odds are low. But it gave me an excuse to do something artsy and ruin the house with paints again.

I leaned over my desk toward Fang who sat directly across from me. "Whataya think?" I asked.

"About the contest?" He asked. I nodded. "Sounds interesting, you think you're going to go for it?"

"Probably. Sounds like fun. You?" I asked, giving my "pretty, pretty please" smile that never fails

"Yeah, depends on what they allow. Wanna go talk to Mr. Bays after school?" He asked. I nodded, excited that he was doing it with me.

I was more of a painter, I liked drawing, sculpting, pottery, I liked stuff that involved hand movement. Fang liked photography more, but can do some pretty amazing things with charcoal.

The rest of the period I was in a daze, trying to figure out what I was going to do, when I'd have the time, and how far I would get in the competition, and what kinds of art they allowed.

I've been to that section of the museum a few times, we live a while from Phoenix, but on the rare occasion that we do visit, I ensure we visit the museum.

I've seen all sorts of paintings, with many different kinds of paints on various levels, so I was pretty sure paint would be allowed.

But what if they changed it every year? What if I needed to settle for one of my weaker sides?

This ran through my mind the whole hour. I absentmindedly took notes, just copied down what was on the power point, not really paying attention. I figured that 1. It was health, it wasn't hard. I could easily just google some stuff and get the same results. In a much more crude manor, but still. And 2. Iggy is a master in health. He could explain it to me. The only issue is that he still finds the sex ed part of it hysterical.

After some tiny, crappy, rough sketches on the side of my notes the bell rang. I jumped a little, not realizing an hour had already gone by.

"You get any of that?" Fang asked packing his bag nodding towards my notebook.

"Uh…don't do drugs…they can kill you." I said.

He smirked. "We talked about media influences." He said.

"Then…" I thought. "Then watch out, those sales people are tricky little bastards."

"Yeah, that's exactly what we learned." He rolled his eyes.

All day I had been anticipating talking to Mr. Bays. By the end of the day I had a list of ideas I had come up with at various points during the day.

Fang and I packed up and rushed to the art rooms. The were three hallways that branched off of the "D-wing" hallway. One was for the band, chorus, and orchestra rooms, before that had all the art rooms, then opposite to that there was the hallway that was directly behind the stage, where all the actor people ran around during shows. Along the side of the big main hallway, on the right side had two doors leading into the side of the auditorium. One in back and one to the stage.

I peaked through the cracked open door and saw Mr. Bays picking up some supplies. "Excuse me? Mr. Bays?"

"That's my name." He said giving a friendly smile. "What ya here for?" He asked and motioned us in.

He was a young teacher, mid to late twenties, I assumed.

He had helped out at the other schools a few times last year, I remember him being laid back and really entertaining.

"Hi, I'm Max Ride." I said awkwardly.

"And I'm Fa –" he paused "Nick…Tean." Fang's actual name being Nick, but no one really calls him Nick, teachers do, but some teachers catch on. How he got the nickname, I don't really know, but it caught on.

"Fnick?" Mr. Bays asked.

"Uh…Nick…" He almost continued with the reason as to why he almost said Fang, but stopped.

"So what can I help you two with?" Mr. Bays asked friendlily.

"We're here about the upcoming art contest." I explained.

"Ah, have we a few aspiring artists?" He asked.

Fang and I exchanged a look and shrugged. "I guess…" Fang said for the both of us.

"Not quite sure yet I assume…" He said as he walked over to the desk and grabbed some papers. He gave one to both Fang and I, and kept one for himself.

"This first page is just details, deadlines, due dates, where to submit, et cetera." He explained showing us. "Next is regulations, how big each piece of art can excel to, what is not allowed in your artwork." He flipped the page. "This is for your parents to fill in, simply saying that you're allowed to enter into the contest, and you sign saying that you understand the regulations. This next page is for you to fill out, it's optional, but highly recommended that you put it in with your work. It's simply what inspired you to do what you did, your process. All very simple." He smiled and closed the packet signaling that that was it.

"Awesome, thanks." I said getting more excited.

"Any questions?" He asked.

"Yeah, are there any forms of art that aren't allowed?" I asked.

"No, if what you had in mind isn't on the list, come see me and I can tell you. It's all you, you can do whatever you want, as long as it follows everything." He said.

"Great." Fang said flipping through the packet again.

"What kind of things do you do?" Bays asked.

I looked at Fang, he spoke first. "Uh, charcoal drawings, photography, pencil sketching…" He said.

"Oh nice, charcoal, huh? We don't get many of those around here, good for you." He said. "What about you…Max, right?"

"Yeah, Max." I confirmed "Painting, mostly. Pottery, pencil sketches…" I trailed off.

"Painting?" He asked. I nodded. "Do you draw it out first, or do you start with paint?" He asked.

"No. I just paint. I don't like drawing it out first." I said.

"Detail or messy painter?" He continued.

"Both, but I prefer detail." I answered.

"Impressive." He said admiringly.

"You any good?" He asked with a smirk.

"Uh…I guess, not great." I said. I hated these kinds of questions.

"Are you being modest?" He asked.

"Yes. She's very good." Fang answered for me.

After school Dylan and I met up at the ice cream parlor in the middle of both our houses. I was late getting there because Fang and I missed the bus because of staying after with Mr. Bays.

When I slowly turned my bike into the small parking lot I saw Dylan sitting at a table outside.

I rode up next to him "Hey." I said as I hopped off my bike and letting it drop on the grass.

"Got you your favorite." He said nodding toward the ice cream sitting across from him.

"One scoop cookie dough, one mint chip, one moose tracks?" I asked.

"Yup." He said taking a bite of his own.

"Ah, yes. Thank you thank you thank you." I said digging right in.

"So you get Scannell's report done yet?" He asked. Dr. Scannell was our science teacher. She was nice, but hard on work. We had a huge lab report due next week.

I sighed. "No, I'm going to ask Iggy for help, I don't get chemistry."

He laughed. "Having her second period is a pain, its too early and too confusing."

"I bet, she confuses me even in the end of the day."

We talked about school, how it's been. Then there was a few minutes of an easy silence.

I licked my spoon and tried to control myself. I was going to try and control my excitement about the contest, but I couldn't help myself. "So you hear about that art contest?" I asked smiling.

"Oh yeah, that stupid thing." He said not looking at me. My smile faded. "What about it?" He asked.

"Nothing much…just was going to tell you that I signed up." I said pursing my lips.

He looked at me, surprised. "You did?" He asked.

"Well, I will, I have the papers. Just have to fill them out." I said.

"Really?" I nodded.

"Why?" He asked, giving me a "what the hell" look.

"Why not?" I shot back.

"Wouldn't it be a waste of time, are you sure you can make the deadline?" He asked.

"Waste of time? Hell no. As far as a deadline goes, I'll be fine. I have three weeks." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"What if you don't make it? Won't it be a waste?" He asked.

"Are you saying I can't do it?" I asked, looking at him in complete shock.

"Well…no, I just mean, with the short amount of time and all." He sputtered out.

"That's not what I asked. You think I can't do it, don't you?" I persisted, getting really pissed off.

"That's not what I said." He defended.

"That's not what I asked." I shot back through clenched teeth.

He didn't answer.

I lowered my voice and shook my head. "You really don't think I can do it." I said.

"That's not what –" he started, but I stopped him. "Not what you said? You don't have to say it. It's clear. You don't think I have the talent." I said plainly.

"Max, that's not what I meant. Come on, let's just finish up, we'll talk about something else." He said, trying to move on.

"Save it." I said standing up, putting my things in my pockets.

"Max-" he started.

"You just made it clear that you don't think I have the capability. And even if you do think that, you don't have to say it, at least give me some hope!" I was nearly yelling.

"I was just being honest." He said.

"You want honesty?" I spat at him. "I'll give you honesty. You're being a really shitty boyfriend, and I'm sick of it."

"Max, don't you think you might be overreacting?" He said.

"Thanks for the fucking support." I said, jumped on my bike and rode away. Tears stinging in my eyes.

Okay, hoped you liked it. I'll try my best to at least start the next chapter tomorrow. I probably won't be able to finish it, but who knows.

Please review!
~XxIgnoracexX~