Pain
Chapter 3

Sex. Yes, a sensitive subject among all. What was it anyway? Hmm? Just a lot of pushing, sweating, and grunting if you ask me. It's not as if it's a huge deal, but everyone thought it was. I mean, guys were practically addicted to it, even the ones who've never done it before, and girls are all nervous about it. Well, that might be because they have a little bit more to worry about than boys...

"Cindy!"

I snapped out of my daze and looked up, a confused look probably on my face. Why is it that whenever I think about something that someone interrupts me?

"Where were you yesterday?" It was Jimmy, fuming and shoving a bunch of papers in my face. What happened to him? His hair was sticking out everywhere, clumped in some places, and his shirt was on backwards. It kind of looked like he just got out of the loony-bin if you ask me.

"They're all the work for the project," he said, sitting down next to me and rubbing his eye. "I stayed up practically all night to finish it."

I fumbled through the papers and shrugged. His grumpy look disappeared and he smiled, flashing his brilliantly white teeth at me.

"Like it?"

I shrugged again. I wonder why he did all the work... Most people make me do all the work whenever they're paired with me since I was such a brain... But... He was different. Maybe it was because he was smarter than I was.

"Do you do this for all your project partners?" Wow, I'd actually spoken. And I'd wasted it on Jimmy. Well, maybe they're not wasted...

"Only with the ones I like," he replied with another smile. What's with him and smiling? He's too happy for me. But... I liked it.

I turned to my notebook, scribbling nonesense. I didn't want Jimmy to see me, not with my cheeks all inflamed... What, was I feeling something for Jimmy? No, not possible. It had to be because I haven't been around someone nice for so long... Yes, that's it. That has to be it.

Jimmy yawned and rumpled his hair so it was even more messy. Seeing me watch him, he smiled and winked. I turned away again and began drawing him. A dimple on his chin, exactly where Nick had a freckle, and a flopping mass of hair, styled not unlike Nick's. Why was I comparing him to Nick? Was there something special about him? No. There can't be. No way. Nick's the only special person. I reverted back to drawing Nick. I scribbled Jimmy's face away, but I could still see the imprint the face made on the page. I could see the twinkling eyes I drew, the hair...

"Are you drawing Nick?"

I was suddenly aware of the warm breath on my neck, the way my hair rising... The goose flesh on my arm. Had Jimmy watched me draw him too?

"Lemme see it, it's really good."

He made a grab at the notebook, my precious notebook. It was a notebook my dad had bought me on his random attempts at being nice. It had been my 13 birthday...

"No."

I had spoken again. He seemed like a magnets for my words, drawing them out with ease. Nick didn't have this affect on me... Jimmy was watching me watch him. It was weird. I pulled my notebook away from him. He grabbed my arm, drawing my sleeve away. A large yellowing bruise, it was leering at me. It was making me sick... Jimmy gasped.

"Who did this?"

I pulled my arm away and tucked my notebook in my backpack. I laid my head in my arms and waited for the first bell to ring. I had missed all of yesterday besides first period when Nick had taken me away and I wasn't going to do it again. I was determined to be here. No matter how I felt, no matter how I thought I didn't need to be here.

I felt the breath on my neck again, and I shuddered. Jimmy didn't seem to get me. He didn't seem to get the universal language of the cold shoulder. I had given that to so many people I was shocked when he began speaking to me, regardless of me not reacting.

"How did you get that bruise?" he asked quietly. I didn't say anything, no surprise there. I felt his hand, warm to the touch, on my arm. Why was he doing this? My mind raced, I had no explanation. Did he.. Did he actually care? That couldn't be, he only just began talking to me... Maybe he thought I hadn't changed since I was eleven. So long ago... How would he remember?

"Cindy." He seemed so serious... I didn't like it. I stood up and walked to the back of the classroom. I sat down, laying my head down again. He had followed me, I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Go away," I mumbled. He seemed to hesitate, but he turned and I could hear his footsteps, heavy and forlorn. Eh. Make him worry, it's not like he matters to me. Does he? Or doesn't he?

First period flew by too quickly if you ask me. I quite like Pre-Calculus. It was my best subject... The way I could know there's one answer to everything kind of made me feel good. Like I could never be wrong.

"Hey baby," breathed Nick as I stepped out of my classroom. He was always there, always ready to give me a nice little kiss and then walk me to my next class. Such a nice boyfriend, no?

I smiled at him, a rare occasion. I think I smiled because I felt guilty about talking with Jimmy... Maybe.

Jimmy walked out of the classroom a few people behind me and stared at me. He shook his head and headed off in the other direction.

"Why does Neutron keep looking at you?" Nick sounded like he was being threatened...

"He's my partner for a project." Nick still seemed like Jimmy was closing in on him or something, so I went up on my tip-toes and gave him a long kiss, nice and steamy. Nick smiled and kissed me again. Now I was smiling, giggling too, I think.

Nick wrapped a muscled arm around me and walked me to Art, my second favorite class. My teacher, Ms. Freeman, seemed to like me. I think she thinks that I'm really talented. At least, that's what she said when I drew a self portrait...

"I'll see you later, babe, got that?" Nick raised his eyebrow and smirked. I was always doing what he said... I didn't mind. If it made him happy, then I'll do it.

I walked into the art room, running into Ms. Freeman.

"Oh, hello Cynthia," she said, putting oil paints and brushes on the big table in the middle of the classroom. She was from London, so she had this awesome accent. And she always called me Cynthia, since I hadn't told her my name was Cindy.

I gestured to the paints and raised my eyebrows. She looked puzzled, but she understood me. We had communicated like this all year, so it wasn't too hard.

"We're doing portaits of our most favorite person. It doesn't matter who, just anyone you fancy particularly. Last year, a few kids painted someone in their families... One girl actually drew that one man from that boy band... N'Stink..."

I didn't bother to correct her that it was N'Sync, not N'Stink. Well, it didn't really matter. I nodded at her and sat down all the way by the front of the room, where I could see Ms. Freeman and the table in the front where she demonstrated most of the time.

I took out my notebook, and started drawing Nick. I was planning on painting him, glad that I could finally put him on canvas... I had been planning on buying my own canvas and painting him at home, but my mother didn't really bother with giving me money...

"Alright, class, please settle down. It's finally time for portraits! Yes, real portraits!"

A faint cheer was going through the classroom, and I actually smiled. Ms. Freeman beamed at all of us and told us to get whatever we needed and sit down quickly. I stood up quickly, gathered a few tubes of paint, only blacks, grays, and whites, because I was going to do a black and white portrait. I sat down and watched as other people from my class eagerly gathered supplies and talking before sitting down. There was a lot of misfits in this class, and... Even that girl, Libby. She was very pretty, her dark hair in a tight ponytail and her dark eyes seemed darker because of the black eyeliner she was wearing.

"Okay, everyone, please be quiet while I hand out the canvas to each of you. The first one will be free, but if you mess up, you'll have to pay 4 dollars for a new one."

I sighed. I was going to have to really careful.

"Please refrain from anything... Inappropriate in your portraits, since you will be graded. Well, have fun."

I smiled at Ms. Freeman as she passed by my desk, and then looked at my canvas. It was an off-white, like most others, and I imagined it covered in the dark paint I had gotten. Maybe it should have some color...

I began sketching out a rough draft on the canvas with my pencil, making sure nothing was out of place. As my mind wandered, I heard Libby talk, since she was sitting only a few desks away.

"And Jimmy was talking about Cindy, his partner for the project in his Pre-Calc class, as if she was a goddess.. It was kinda weird, really, because she doesn't hang with us anymore, she's all quiet and she's always with that Nick Dean..."

My cheeks inflamed, and then I looked at my canvas. I had drawn Jimmy once again. My heart beat quickly, and I erased it quickly. Then I thought against it, drawing Jimmy in his messy hair and backward shirt. I smiled, and I squeezed some black paint onto a scrap of paper towel.

With wide brushstrokes, I drew the outline on the canvas. A smudge of black under his chin, shadowing in some other places.. I changed my paint to a light gray and began coloring in everything. Then I got a darker gray and colored in his shirt. His hair was in black, since it was dark red... His eyes... I stood up and went to the big table, clutching a tube of paint.

I squeezed a tiny bit out on the paper towel and dipped a small brush into it. I leaned over the canvas and rubbed the brush into it. I sat back and smiled.

His eyes were now blue, the only color in the entire painting.

The bell rang, and I startled, now realizing that I had been painting the entire time. Libby walked by my desk as she was leaving, clutching her painting.

"Wow, that's good. Why did you draw Jimmy?"

I shrugged and picked the painting up before walking to the front of the class. I laid it on Ms. Freeman's desk, like everyone else had. I smiled at Ms. Freeman and walked out of the class, straight into the arms Jimmy.

"Oh, hi."

I shrugged and walked on, seeing Jimmy frown. Why did he care if I didn't say hi back? In fact, why did he care, period?