Can You Draw Me?

I put my brush to the paper and drew the outline of Kaoru's face. Then I added a few brushstrokes to start her hair. "Hold still." I said. "You can't move until I get the basic lines in."

She giggled. "Kenshin, you look so serious. It's rather cute!"

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. The truth is, I had a major crush on Kaoru. And I wanted this painting to be awesomely good. I desperately wanted to impress her.

She leaned back on the edge of my bed, her hands behind her pressed on the quilt. Her blue-tinted raven hair was pulled back in a lazy ponytail. She wore a blue turtleneck sweater over faded jeans.

The late-afternoon sun poured through my bedroom window, spreading a warm, orange glow over the room. Kaoru kept a smile frozen on her face, which made two big dimples appear on her cheeks.

"How did you get interested in painting?" Her soft voice echoed pleasantly in my ears.

I leaned over my drawing board and started to outline her eyes. "You won't believe it," I said. "But I saw one of those ads in the local newspaper, It had a girl's face in it. And it said: 'Can you draw me?'"

The brush slipped, and I accidentally dabbed a smudge of black paint over her left eye. I'd just gotten these brushes, and I wasn't used to them.

"It was some kind of contest." I continued. "I sent my drawings in-and I won. I won art lessons with this old guy who lives downtown. Shawn Smith. He used to be a very famous magazine illustrator."

"Was he a good teacher?" Kaoru asked.

"The best!" I said. "I don't know how he did it. But ever since those lessons, I can draw anybody-no problem."

"Cool." Kaoru said. She stretched her arms. "Are you almost finished? I can't wait to see it."

Before I could answer, I heard heavy, thudding footsteps-and Flash came waddling into the room. The big chimpanzee uttered a few hoo hoo hoo's and jumped onto Kaoru's lap.

Kaoru let out a starlet cry and fell off the bed with the chimp on top of her.

"Ayako!" I yelled for my little sister. She instantly appeared in the doorway. "Ayako-you're supposed to be watching Flash! "I said angrily. "How come he got away from you?"

"Because he's a chimp, that's why!" Ayako always has a smart answer for everything.

Kaoru shoved the chattering chimp off and struggled to her feet. "He's heavy!"

Ayako tugged Flash back to her room. "I'm sorry." I apologized. "Are you okay? Dad is always bringing pets home from the animal hospital where he works. Flash is a total pest. Fortunately he'll soon be going back to wherever he came from."

"He's kind of cute." He mood was knocked up a few notches when she smiled at me. "He just surprised me, that's all." She returned to her perch on the bed.

Just my luck. I try to impress a girl, and a chimpanzee knocks her to the floor.

"Dad brought two macaws home yesterday." I said. "Hear them? They're down in the living room, screeching their heads off. We even had a little pig running around the house last week!"

Kaoru laughed heartily. "You live in a zoo!"

I leaned over the drawing board and concentrated on the painting. I carefully sketched in the mouth. Kaoru was the coolest girl in my tenth-grade class. I couldn't believe it when she agreed to pose for me. I knew I had to make this my best portrait ever.

I changed the eyes. I wasn't happy with them. Then I carefully sketched the nose. I worked quickly. The new brush glided easily over the paper.

"How much longer?" Kaoru asked.

"Not much." I said. "I'm just going to fill in some details."

"Does it really look like me?" She asked.

"You'll see." I replied.

And then my hand made a sharp movement across the page. Whoa, I thought. Why did I do that?

I dipped the brush into the jar of paint. I wanted to fill in the hair, but my hand guided the brush to the mouth. I made several sharp strokes.

"Hey!" I cried out.

"What's wrong?" Kaoru was quick to ask.

"Nothing." I said. But something was terribly wrong.

My hand-it was moving on its own!

The brush painted in lines over Kaoru's cheeks and forehead. Then it moved to her mouth and started drawing furiously.

I grabbed my hand and tried to pull it away from the page. But it wouldn't budge.

This is crazy! I thought. This is not happening!

My hand is drawing without me! I have no control. No control at all!

A wave of panic swept through my body with shudder. I struggled to control the brush, but it kept moving over the page.

I could feel cold sweat rolling down my forehead. This is terrifying! What is happening to me?

Suddenly Kaoru jumped up and crossed the room. "Let me see it!" She demanded. "I can't wait any longer."

"No!" I shouted. "It-it isn't ready!"

"I don't care." She grinned mischievously at me. "Now let me see this supposed masterpiece!"

I tried to cover it with my body, but Kaoru grabbed the painting off the drawing board and turned it around to get a better look.

"Kenshin!" She shrieked. "It's gross! Why did you do this?"

She held the paper between her hands. In the painting her forehead and cheeks were covered with deep, open scars. And a hairy bucktoothed rat poked out of her open mouth.

"I-I-I didn't!" I sputtered.

She let out a furious cry and ripped the painting in half. "You're not funny." She cried angrily. "You're not funny, you're just gross." Then she stormed out of the room.

"But Kaoru-" I called after her.

A few seconds later I heard the front door slam shut behind her.

"How did that happen?" I asked out loud in a trembling voice. "How?" I stared at my hand, as if it could answer.

I barely ate dinner. I told mom and dad I wasn't feeling too well. Up in my room I couldn't concentrate on my homework.

I kept thinking about my painting of Kaoru with the rat poking out of her mouth. I couldn't stop thinking about how my hand had moved, out pf my control, ruining the painting.

I went to bed early, but I couldn't sleep.

A little after midnight I climbed out of bed and turned on the ceiling light. Then I made my way to the drawing table.

I had to prove to myself that I could still paint. I had to prove that I wasn't crazy or something.

I set up a mirror on my drawing table. Then I put a fresh sheet of paper down and picked up one of my new brushes.

I dipped the brush into a fresh jar of paint and began to draw myself. My shocking lilac eyes moved from the mirror to the drawing. I started with the eyes this time. Then I sketched my straight nose and thin lips.

So far, so good, I thought.

I moved to the hair. My hair was not easy to draw since it was so long and it shot out in a million gravity-defying directions from my failed sleep attempts.

The brush glided quickly. My hand felt sure and steady.

Yesss! I thought.

But I celebrated too early.

I dipped my brush into the paint again and lowered it to outline my face. I started on the chin-but my hand jerked to the side.

I stared in horror as it began to draw on its own. Drawing something where my neck should be.

"NO!" I screamed. I tugged with all my strength. But my other hand moved with incredible force.

I could only stand and watch it move around the paper. The hand was out of my control. It was moving on its own!

"No, no, no, NOO!" I shouted.

The bedroom door flew open. Mom and dad came running in in their pajamas, their hair tousled, their faces sleepy. "Kenshin-what's wrong?" They both cried.

Dad grabbed my painting from the table. They both stared at it.

It showed me with a noose around my neck. There was a bleeding cross-shaped scar on my cheek. My tongue was hanging out, and my eyes were bulging.

"Why did you paint this?" Dad scowled. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I-I don't know." I replied.

"Why did you paint such a sick thing?" Mom asked. "Is something troubling you, Kenshin? Something you want to talk about?"

"I-I don't know." I repeated again.

I stayed away from my drawing table for the rest of the week. I hid the paint jars and brushes in the closet.

I didn't want to think about what had happened. Every time I pictured my hand moving on its own, I wanted to scream in horror.

On Monday I had no choice. I had to bring my paintbrushes to school. Mr. Genzai, the art teacher had chosen me and four other kids to paint a mural on the long art-room wall.

When I passed Kaoru in the hall, she walked right past me as though I wasn't there at all. Even though I had caller in the weekend to apologize.

I saw kids grinning at me. I guessed that Kaoru had told them what had happened.

I hurried to the art room. Kids were at their tables, waiting to watch us five artists go to work. "Remember people, the theme is Japan the Beautiful." Mr. Genzai said.

He guided me to the long end of the wall. "I saved this square for you, Kenshin." He said. "From here to the window. I see you brought your own brushes. What are you going to paint?"

I gazed at the blank white canvas. "A nature scene, I think." I answered. "A sakura tree and a lake, maybe someone resting under it."

"Sounds good." Mr. Genzai said. "Go to work." He moved on to the next artist, an eleventh-grade girl named Mio Yazaki.

I glanced down the line and realized I was the only tenth-grader. I'd better do a really good job, I thought.

I started with a pencil. I sketched a sakura tree near a lake. A family of four having a picnic under the tree and the kids playing around in the water.

Mr. Genzai moved up and down the row of artists, making comments and suggestions. "That looks very good, Kenshin." He said. "You can begin to paint now."

I carried paint jars over to my spot. Then I prepared my paint brushes.

My hand moved too quickly. The brush swept over my pencil sketch. I tried to control the brushstrokes. But once again my hand took off.

No - please! Please don't do this! I silently begged.

But I couldn't stop my hand.

I tried to drop the brush. But my fingers held tight. The brush kept moving up and down, drawing without me. Drawing on its own.

Am I going crazy?

"Kenshin, what are you doing?" I heard Mr. Genzai's alarmed cry from down the row. And I heard kids laughing.

My hand finished the kimono clad family. The four people were bending over, headless. Blood poured from their open necks. Their heads were on the gruond, being eaten by huge rats.

The The birds and fishe swere vomiting. Piles of puke were puddles around them. The sakura petals were spiked, and the tree semed to be rotten.

"Kenshin! I want you to stop this right now!" Mr. Genzai shouted angrily, his face red.

"I - I CAN'T STOP!" I shouted.

The kids erupted in laugher. They thought I was joking.

"HELP ME! MR. GENZAI - HELP ME!"

My hand pulled me to the side. I bumped into Mio Yazaki and kicked over her paint jars.

My brush attacked her drawing. I scrawled thick black lines over the city scene she had started. My hand scribbled and jabbed.

"Kenshin - get away!" Mio cried.

"I can't!" I shouted. "I can't stop it!"

My brush jabbed at Mio's face. I painted black smudges on her cheeks, then a zigzag line across her hair.

She shrieked and staggered back.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" I wailed.

The class had grown silent now.

My brush dipped into a red-paint jar. And I began scrawling ugly faces on the wall. On the floor. I swung away from the canvas and began to paint red bars on the windows.

"STOP ME! STOP ME!" The cry burst from my throat. The hand was jerking me one way, then the other. Painting. Painting. I couldn't stop it. "HEPL ME!"

Mr. Genzai rushed over. "Kenshin-what's wrong? Ger a grip on yourslef. I-"

My hand painted a thick red stripe down the center of his face. Then a stripedown the front of his sweater.

With a sputtering cry he grabbed my shoulders. I spun away from him, and my brush swiped down the sleeve of his sweater. He was covered in red paint. Then my hand moved to the art-room door and began painting on the door.

"I CAN'T STOP! CAN'T STOP!" I shrieked. "CAN'T ANYBODY HELP ME?"

My parents kept me home the next day. They couldn't decide whether to be angry or worried about me. So they were both.

I stayed in my room. I tried to read my schoolwork, but I just couldn't think straight. The macaws were chatting away downstairs. I turned the TV on with the sound real loud to drown them out. But I couldn't concentrate on it, either.

I couldn't believe when Mr. Genzai paid a surprise visit after school. My mother showed him to my room. "Kenshin is very sorry for what he did." She told the teacher, then she went downstairs and left us alone.

Mr. Genzai sat down at my desk. "How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"Okay." I replied. I apologized for what happened in class. "I...I can't really explain it." I said. I sat on the edge of my bed.

He studied me for a long while. "How long have you been interested in painting?" he finally asked.

"I didn't really get interested in it until I won some lessons. From an artist named Shawn Smith."

Mr. Genzai squinted at me. "Shawn Smith? I read in the papers he died three weeks ago."

I gasped. "Really? But I don't understand. I just finished my lessons with him a few weeks ago. And he...he sent me his brushed last week."

Mr. Genzai glanced at the paintbrushed on my drawing table. "Strange..." He muttered.

We talked a short while longer. Then Mr. Genzai made his way to the door. "I just wanted to make sure you are okay." He said. "That was frigthening yesterday."

"I think I'm alright." I said. "I'll definitively be back in school tomorrow."

He gave me a wave and headed downstairs. I could hear him talking to my mom.

I stepped up to the drawing table and studied the paintbrushes. I felt bad that Shawn Smith had died.

I picked up the long-handled brushed one by one. When did he send them? I wondered. How did they reach me two weeks after he died?

That night I fell asleep quickly. I dreamed that I was painting the sky. I wanted to paint white, fluffy clouds. But I couldn't reach high enough.

I was awakened by a scraping sound. "Huh? Who's there?" I whispered.

Blinkin myself awake, I raised my head from the pillow. I squinted into the dim light-and gasped.

The paintbrushed were floating in the air.

They scraped across the paper on the drawing table. Tilting, bobing, sliding up and down-the brushed were painting.

Painting without me!

"NO!" With a terrifyed cry, I leaped out of bed. I lurched across the room and made a grab for the brushes.

The brushes jerked and jabbed the air. I wrapped my hands around the handles and struggled to hold on to them.

My hands were pulled above my head. The brushes twirled and jerked, as if trying to escape. But I tightened my grip and held on.

I've got to get rid of them, I decided. I've got to get them out of this house. If I do, my life will go back to normal.

Squeezing the brush handles tightly, I crept downstairs. I made my way to the kitchen and stepped out the back door.

The ground was hard and cold under my bare feet. A chilling wind fluttered my pajamas. I ran across the wet grass to the back of the garage.

Four netal trash cans stood alonge the garage wall. I lifted the lid on the first can and tossed the brushes in. Then I skammed sown the lid and made sure it was on toght.

Shivering, I ran back into the house. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I should sleep easily now. I thought I had won a big victory.

I didn't know that my brush troubles weren't over yet.

The next morning I peered through my bedroom window down to the backyard. "What?" I let out a hoarse cry when I saw that the first can was tipped over.

I turned and saw the paintbrushes stacked on the side of my drawing table. "Oh no!" I moaned. "They're back!"

My heart pounding, I raced across the room and grabbed them. My parents were in the backyard talking to our neighbours. Holding the brushes tightly in both hands, I ran down the stairs to the basement.

I carried them past the laundry room to Dad's workshop. My dad is a real handyman, he has a lot of major-league tools.

I flicked on the switch on Dad's table saw. Of course, I'm not allowed to use it. But this was an emergency.

The saw hummed to life. The round, jagged blade began to spin. Holding the ends of the brushes, I slid them toward the blade.

"Goodbye, brushes!" I shouted.

The big blade made a whining sound as it grated against the first wooden brush handle.

To my shock the wood didn't split. The brush bounced off. The blade couldn't cut through it!

I tried again, pushing the brush against the whirring blade. The blade whined-and bent. The brush bounced off, unharmed.

No. This is impossible, I thougth. This can't be happening.

I shut off the table saw. I grabbed a blowtorch from the floor beside the worktable. I definitively was not allowed to use this. But I didn't care. I was in a total panic. I had to destroy these brushes-before they ruined my life!

I set the brushes on the concrete floor. Then I lit the blowtorch. A bright-blue flame burst out with a roar.

"Yikes!"

Startled, I nearly dropped the heavy thing onto the floor. But I held on and aimed the flame at the brushes.

And waited for them to burn. And waited

The brushes didn't burn.

Cold panic swept over me. I stared at the brushes lying unharmed under the powerful, hot flame.

I'll take them far away, I thought. Maybe I can mail them to another country. Or maybe I can bury them.

I turned off the blowtorch. Then I gathered up the brushes and carried them back to my room.

I tried to drop them onto my drawing table, but the brushes stuck to my hand.

I struggled to uncurl my fingers, to let the brushes fall. But instead my fingers tightened around the handles.

"No! No! No!" I chanted, squirming, pulling, twisting, fighting the power of the brushes.

But I no longer had control of my hands. They were dipping the brushes into paint, moving to the paper on the drawing board.

"No! No! No!"

I couldn't stop them. I couldn't free myself from them.

The brushes scraped across the paper, writing words in fat red letters.

"No! No!"

I gasped in horror at the message the brushes had written:

YOUR HANDS ARE MINE NOW. WE WILL PAINT TOGETHER-FOREVER.

The message done, the paintbrushes dropped from my hands beside the paper.

I was gasping for breath, My entire body trembles. I stared down at them. How can I get rid of these brushes? How?

Then suddenly, I had an idea.

A month later Kaoru and I were at her house, watching a news-magazine show on TV in her den. Kaoru started toward the kitchen to make popcorn, but I pulled her back. "It's coming on now." I said. "Watch."

She sat back down, and we watched my dad appear on the TV show. The camera backed up, and we could see Flash holding Dad's hand. The chimp was all dressed up in a silvery suit.

Dad led Flash to a drawing table. Flash sat down , picked up a long-handled brush, and started to paint.

"This is amazing!" The TV reporter exclaimed. "He's painting monsters. His paintings are strange and ugly, but this chimp paints better than most humans!"

The camera caught a big smile on Dad's face. "That's why we're selling Flash's work to museums all over the world." He said.

The camera moved in close on Flash's hands as the chimp changed brushes and continued to paint.

"How did this happen?" The reporter asked Dad. "How did you discover this chimp had so much talent?"

Dad smiled into the camera. "It was an accident, really. My son Kenshin gave Flash an extra set of brushes-and the rest is history!"

Flash jumped up and down and uttered a hoo hoo hoo as his hands moved the brushes over the paper.

Kaoru turned to me. "Kenshin, don't you feel bad?" She asked. "You're so serious about your paintings. Aren't you jealous that Flash is such a famous artist?"

A big smile spread over my face. "Me? Jealous?" I said. "No way!" And i settled back to watch Flash paint.