Thanks for the reviews last chapter. I am so excited!

Chapter 2: A Misunderstood Soul

The ticking clock of room 108 seemed obnoxiously loud, even more so than usual.

Usually Ms. Miller didn't mind teaching the art club on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for about two hours after school was officially let out, but at the moment she desired nothing more than to go home and pop some aspirin in her mouth to get rid of the headache pounding her temples. It seemed like every time the clock ticked off a second, her brain would just painfully throb. The sounds of paintbrushes swiping across paper and even the hushed murmuring of students exchanging meaningless bouts of conversation usually permitted her to relax and unwind after standing on her aching feet for over seven hours. However, as she eyed the fifteen students through her rectangular red-rimmed glasses and watched them giggle and act like they didn't have a care in the world, she could feel her impatience rising.

And perhaps a bit of nausea as well. Tomorrow had an acute probability of her requesting a substitute for the day.

She casually peeked up at the annoying contraption that taunted her every hour at her job and just about sobbed in relief as the minuscule slender hands pointed at 4:45. Without wasting even a precious second she stood up and clapped her bony fingers together, drawing several pairs of eyes to her as she struggled to keep the pained expression off her face.

"Excellent job today everybody! Please pack up, and I look forward to seeing you all on Friday."

She watched as everybody hastily packed up their supplies and scrubbed little blotches of paint off their skin at the classroom sink. Only five people had managed to polish their wrists clean before it was brought to her attention that the soap was out, thus making her head hurt even worse as she calmly marched over and switched the plastic container out so even more people could dye the inside of the ugly green sink's walls red, purple, blue and every other color of the rainbow.

By the time the clock read five she had slipped into her rose-colored jacket and anxiously surveyed the students evacuate, their voices quieting and footsteps fading away with every step they took down the tiled hallway. Just as she was about to step out the door, she noticed a motion out of the corner of her eye, and sighed.

How in the world had she forgotten about her?

She lowered her hand away from the light switch and drew her attention to the one other person in the room; the one person who reminded the widowed teacher that for some people art was a passion, a part of their soul.

Noelle Richards sat at her canvas, her emerald eyes focused intently on the board placed before her. Her lengthy platinum blond hair had two thick strands pulled away her from face and wrapped tightly behind her head while the rest of it fell a few inches past her shoulder blades. Light eyebrows furrowed together in concentration beneath her thick bangs as she smoothly caressed her paintbrush against the board. The faint sound of music could be interpreted emitting from the microscopic ebony earphone buds tucked firmly in her ears. She seemed lost in her own little world, unaware of the fact that her teacher was approaching her as she engaged in a private dance with the brush in her hand and the paint on the canvas.

With a mischievous smile, the older woman meandered over to the side of the board and clapped her hands together several times, earning a surprised jump from her student.

With a startled gasp, the blonde teen's body stiffened as she guiltily peered past her board and stared up into the face of her art instructor. She pulled her paint brush away from her easel before hastily yanking the small ear pieces out. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to get so caught up again!" she apologetically rushed out while her fingers fumbled around in her jeans pocket for her iPod. When she felt the small orange device in her hand she promptly pulled it out and pressed on the pause button before switching it off.

Ms. Miller chuckled as she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, her thick, grey curls bouncing around. "It's fine. Now, let's see what you've been working on today." She stepped over to Noelle's side and examined the canvas, her lips spreading into a pleasant smile.

A girl with jet black hair and a short scarlet dress appeared to be dancing, as was evident by her half-turned body and the way strands of her hair and dress seemed to twirl around her. Blotches of white indicating snow fell around her, and she was encompassed by grey tree trunks. It was a simple but peaceful picture, one that could convey many meanings.

"I'm not entirely sure why this was what I felt like painting today," Noelle admitted as she nervously wrapped her earphones around her iPod. "It was just an image that filled my head all day, and I merely wanted to bring it to life."

"And you most certainly did a wonderful job in doing so. However, it is time to leave so if you wouldn't mind-"

"Oh! Of course!" The sixteen-year old went about cleaning her area up, rushing as if she was in a race for her life. The teacher stood by with an amused smile as she watched her most talented student practically trip over her own feet to wash her hands and paintbrushes before wrapping a sheet around her painting and tucking it into the art club's designated drawer for projects. She put the tubes of paint and brushes back in the classroom's paint box and wrapped her black and blue satchel around her shoulders before finally deeming herself ready enough to leave. By that time, Ms. Miller was standing at the room's entrance with her keys out and jangling as she prepared to lock up.

"I am so, so sorry," Noelle once again apologized as she followed her professor out of the room and waited patiently in the hallway. She buttoned her ebony long-sleeved cardigan sweater over her azure shirt and gripped her fingers along the straps of her bag while she watched the older woman lock the door.

"I already told you that's it fine." Ms. Miller dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand after she'd made sure the door was securely shut. They both proceeded to walk, relishing in the silence of the desolate hallway. In the distance, a basketball bouncing and friendly shouting could be heard as the basketball team practiced for their next game. The players, a couple janitors, and the two girls were the only ones left in the school, but that was something to be expected on a late Wednesday afternoon.

They strolled in companionable silence to the school entrance before exiting outside. The end of September would be within only a few days, which meant lower temperatures and frigid winds. At the moment though, the breeze was pleasant and called for only a sweater or light jacket. The art instructor forced herself to take a deep breath so she could at least try to attempt enjoying the pleasant weather while she could. She couldn't stand the cold, and the thought of waiting outside in such brisk weather to catch a taxi didn't appeal to her one bit. Her gray eyes traveled down to her quiet student, who returned the look with timid smile.

"Have a good night, and be careful walking home."

"Thank you Ms. Miller. You as well." With those words, Noelle turned the opposite direction and began her venture home, once again putting in her earbuds and letting the world around her be drowned out by music. She was unaware of her teacher inspecting her, wondering what could possibly transpire at the young woman's house to bring about such an air of loneliness.

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The world around her was one bursting of energy and simple things that brought smiles to everybody's faces. So many times she had allowed her eyes to wander around as she beheld the sights of friends laughing together and people jovially conversing over their cellphones, and she couldn't help but speculate what it was like.

She arrived at her apartment building and squinted up, noting the light in her mother's office was on. It wasn't a surprise, as her mother essentially resided in the modest space. However, Noelle wasn't planning to stop home first. Instead, she accessed the building and proceeded to enter the first door on her right. She dug into her satchel and pulled out her ring of keys, picking out a particular one that she used to unlock the door in front of her before she stepped in.

"Grandma? You awake?" She shut the door behind her and ambled past the small kitchen area. The TV in the living room was off, meaning her grandmother was either sleeping or working on a new project. Sure enough, an elderly woman with curly ivory hair and round glasses stepped out from behind a light blue wall, her wrinkled hands patting the stained white smock encircling her slim waist. Sandra Jackson was an artist who once worked as an art professor and even had her own art studio, but after retiring she moved into the same apartment building as her daughter and granddaughter. She continued to paint though, and even had a room in her home space dedicated to working on her art projects.

"Well hello sweetie! How was class today?" The old woman casually removed the paint-covered cloth off and gave her oldest granddaughter a hug after checking to make sure not a single smear of wet paint stained her fingertips.

"It was fine. I finished another painting in Art Club today," Noelle responded with a smile as she noticed the twinkle of pride in her grandma's cerulean eyes.

"And I can't wait to see it. I've also been working on my own little composition, but I'll just show it to you when it's finished." Sandra clapped her hands together and progressed towards the kitchen while Noelle trailed behind. "Now, I hope you don't mind spaghetti for dinner tonight."

The blonde teenager placed a hand gently on her grandma's back and waited for the pair of wisdom-filled sapphire eyes to look at her before she shook her head. "Grandma, I've told you several times you don't need to cook for me. In fact, why don't I cook for you for once?" she affectionately offered. Out of all the people in her family, Sandra was the one Noelle was closest to. She looked up to her grandmother immensely, not just because of the aged woman's artistic talent, but also because she was a lively and imaginative woman who could see beauty in just about anything. Noelle visited her almost every day, and they would often end up eating dinner together. She volunteered whenever she could to help out and at least try and take care of her grandmother, as the woman was 68 and getting older every year.

Unfortunately, the elderly woman was beyond stubborn and hated the idea of somebody taking care of her. "That's nice of you dear, but I'm perfectly okay with cooking. I've done it nearly my whole life, and I don't plan on stopping now!"

With a defeated sigh, Noelle lowered her hand and stepped over to the circular kitchen table, where she took a seat on one of the four chairs. She focused on the ligneous surface beneath her, and started tracing her fingers over the mahogany line patterns. She could see a miniature version of herself jumping from one line to another; sometimes she teetered on the rim before finally jumping down to the next area and either walking or dancing her way across the horizontal edge. She looked peaceful and happy, and for a second Noelle could almost feel what that was like.

Her day dream was disturbed by the sound of a key turning, which was followed by the entrance of a man in his mid-forties. "Hey mom! Hi Noelle!" the man cheerfully greeted as he closed the door behind him and slipped off his shoes. He gave the smaller woman a hug before he proceeded over to the dining table and sat directly across Noelle with his arm draped across the back of his chair.

"Uncle Nick," Noelle returned the greeting with a polite nod of her head. A few days during the week, her mother's brother Nick would stop over and check up on his mother. Sometimes he would go upstairs afterwards to see how his sister was doing, but most of the time he would head back home to his wife Melanie and twelve-year old daughter Ella. Noelle loved her aunt and cousin, but she was the closest with her grandma and uncle. Nick could usually brighten her day with a laugh, which was something he was used to doing, as he was a Pediatric nurse at a local hospital. He was a humorous and cheerful man who had also proved to be a good listener, especially to his niece, on numerous occasions.

"Long day?" Sandra inquired as she broke spaghetti sticks over boiling water, her eyes not drifting away from her task.

Nick elongated his long arms up and yawned. "Yeah. We were pretty busy today, so I ended up working a double." He ruffled the back of his chestnut hair. "There were actually quite a few kids today with broken bones, either from playing sports or just being too silly." His blue eyes looked up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. "Hey, didn't Savannah break her leg before?"

Noelle perked her head up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "She did? How?"

"If I remember correctly, she was climbing a tree in one of the local parks and fell out of it." Sandra stirred the water, but this time she looked over at her son and granddaughter with a reminiscing smile. "She said she was trying to touch the sky. What an imaginative child she was."

"In a way, she still is," Nick added. "I mean, she does have one of the most popular book series out right now. "

Noelle remained tranquil, her eyes once again drifting down to the table. She was well aware of the fact that her mom was a bestselling author when it came to writing, especially with her new series, "Hello Earth". The premise of the story was the standard alien invasion plot, but there were also characters that the reader could become easily attached to, along with a deep story and insanely clever ideas. She would be lying if she claimed to not have read the books herself, but she couldn't help but feel a certain morose in doing so. Her parents were divorced, mainly due to the fact that they seemed to love their careers more than each other. Aside from having a mother who was talented with words, she had a father who specialized in graphic design, which in turn had him traveling out of state constantly.

Basically, she barely spent any time with her parents, and that in turn had caused her to become lonely. As a little girl she'd admired her grandmother's art, and decided to try her hand at being creative as well. She had turned to painting as a way to escape the isolation she felt in the "real world", which had ended up making her somewhat of an outcast.

"Noelle. Eat up."

Once again, the blonde teenager found herself being snapped out of her thoughts. The aroma of spaghetti filled her nostrils as a plate overflowing with noodles and sauce was placed in front of her. "Thank you," she politely acknowledge, waiting for grandmother to take her seat before she began eating.

She stayed quiet as the three of them shared a meal while listening to her uncle talk about his day, and occasionally chipping in the random bits about school when she was asked to. Her grandma's cooking was excellent, so even one who barely had an appetite would find themselves indulging in the simple dinner. She smiled at her uncle's amusing stories, and then proceeded to clear the dishes off the table once everybody had finished.

"Just load them in the dishwasher hun. I need to run it anyways."

Noelle nodded at her grandma's instructions and loaded the dishware into their respectable slots in the machine before she glanced up at the faint yellow circular clock hanging over one of the ivory squared arches of the homey kitchen. The time read only about 6:30, but she craved the sanctuary of her bedroom.

"I think I'm going to go home. I'm a bit sleepy," she announced with an apologetic expression as she walked back over to the table and bent down to give them both a hug.

"Alright sweetie. Get some rest."

"Sweet dreams, kiddo."

She gave them both a friendly wave before heading back to the door, grabbing her bag, and then leaving. Her two relatives sat in silence for a second at the table, listened to the knob jiggling as Noelle made sure the door was locked, and then sighed in unison.

"Poor girl is miserable. I wish I could do something for her." Nick leaned forward and pinched the bridge between his nose in frustration. "I mean, what is Savannah thinking doing this to her own kid?"

Sandra eyed the door sadly. "I wish I knew."

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"Mom? I'm home."

Of course, Noelle should've expected not to receive an answer. All her mom did was work, with her fingers hastily typing away on her laptop and zoned away from real life. Her dad was the same way with his job, and it was lonely.

Absolutely lonely.

She dropped her house keys in the small brown basket placed on a cherry wood square table next to the door, and proceeded over to her mom's office. The door was closed, as usual, so she gently knocked on it and then pushed it open.

Savannah sat at her computer as she usually did with the same focused face she wore every day, like a mask she never took off. She didn't so much as acknowledge her daughter as she feverishly typed like her life depended on it.

"Mom, did you eat?" Noelle asked, her eyebrows furrowed together in concern. As somebody who was always focused on meeting deadlines, her mother would sometimes get so absorbed in her work and trying to finish her chapters on time that she would often forget about eating. Noelle did the best she could to make sure her mom was getting the proper amount of nutrition, but she could only do so much. After all, she was a teenager trying to focus on getting good grades, and she usually had her own little projects that she worked on outside of the art club.

"Yeah. Had a sandwich." The reply was short and almost robotic as the petite woman didn't so much as even blink.

"Anything else?"

With a tired sigh, Savannah finally tore her hazel eyes away from her laptop screen. "Hunny, I had cereal and drank coffee this morning. I'm fine; worry about school. I'm a grown woman who can take care of herself." She stood up and perambulated past her daughter to enter the bathroom on the other side of the corridor. When the door clicked shut, Noelle shook her head sadly and walked to her room.

"But you aren't taking care of yourself. You barely sleep and eat. I can see the circles under your eyes. You're worrying me mom."

She flipped on her light switch and obliged herself to be engulfed in the fluorescent lighting of what was basically her bedroom mixed with an art studio. All the lavender walls were covered from floor to ceiling with her own personal artwork, along with pictures of other artists' work that inspired her. In the corner of her room was an easel she received for Christmas from her grandmother a couple years ago. She had a little artist desk at the foot of her bed with a lamp perched at the top of it, along with wide sketch pads and buckets of charcoal and pencils that were sorted by hardness and color.

She strode over to her easel and lowered her bag gently to the ground before proceeding to change into her pajamas; a long-sleeved baby blue shirt with matching colored pants. As she picked her brush off her dresser and began brushing her hair, her eyes caught a glimpse of the rectangular picture frame placed diagonally on her bedside table.

[Amazing Spiderman 2: You're My Boy]

She painstakingly lifted the frame up and studied the picture secured beneath glass. It was a photo of her and her parents, taken when she was around five or six years old. She was standing between them, with her little fingers curled around their hands. Her hair had been much shorter then, barely meeting her shoulders. However, her eyes were sparkling and there was a true smile on her face, one that she couldn't remember having since their divorce. Even as she looked at the photo, her parents didn't seem entirely happy. Her father, with his dark auburn hair, mustache and eyes of jade hidden behind glasses, displayed only the littlest upturned curve at the corners of his thin mouth.

Her mother looked a bit more convincing with her smile, but she showed no teeth and her eyes were glazed with grief. She had the appearance of woman having a conflict within herself over the love she felt for her daughter and the distraught emptiness she felt with the man she called husband.

Noelle recollected the announcement of the divorce when she was ten years old. She'd been greatly dispirited, and here sorrow only increased when her parents dived more into their careers than actually spending time with her.

She'd enclosed herself off into her own little world at school, and turned to drawing to cope with the depression she felt. Her classmates didn't understand, and whispered around her.

"Why doesn't she ever smile? Do you think she knows how to laugh?"

"She's a weirdo. She'd rather draw in her little sketchbook than talk to somebody."

"I heard her dad left her. Too bad."

"People that quiet are crazy."

"What a boring girl."

She'd spent countless nights staying up late as she painted and drew with music blasting in her ears as she tried to evade the claws of loneliness that grasped at her every day. The only time she felt even a twinge of happiness was when she was with her grandma or allowed her creative mind to take over.

She set the frame back down and crawled onto her bed. She slid her window frame up with ease and stuck her head out of the building, allowing the New York evening air to caress her face. The view from her room wasn't breathtaking, but she was able to people watche and observe some shops and buildings. Sometimes she would use the fire escape near her kitchen and escalate to the top of the apartment building so she could view the world from a different angle. It was especially alluring at night when the streets and windows glowed in unison, and even with all the light pollution she could still see a decent amount of stars speckled across the sky.

Her gaze lifted up, and a small smile spread across her lips as she regarded a full moon enveloped by an ocean of stars. The sight was lovely, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for herself when she realized that beneath all the magnificent night sky, she was still isolated.

"Please help me." Her voice was reticent but strong as her jade eyes pleaded with the sky. "I can't take this anymore. I just want to make a friend. I'm scared. It's been so long since I've even had somebody to call a friend. Please let me find somebody who will accept me and not think I'm a freak. Please."

She didn't know if she was talking to the stars, herself, or a higher being, but she knew the words needed to be vocalized. It wasn't like the storybooks where something magical happened after she made a wish, but she did feel a little better. She lowered her window back down, but not all the way, as she wanted to allow the noise of the city lull her to sleep. Even though it was barely past seven, her mind felt exhausted, and she instantly succumbed to her dreams.

That night, she dreamed of the moon and stars,and of times when she knew how to be content with her life.

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