The Artist

A girl with a gift, or a curse depending on how you see it, draws pictures that depict the future. Follow Alex as she deals with a gift that has scarred her many times before.


1. A Freak Like Me

I had started drawing when I was eight. One day, I had picked up a pencil and just never put it down. Some people said I was a prodigy, others said I had a gift. But I just thought that I was a girl that could draw things that people didn't always want to see.

My name is Alex. I'm seventeen and nearly finished with high school. I guess I'm pretty normal, I have a car, I get average marks, and yeah, I almost forgot, I knew my dad was going to die a week before he did because of my drawings.

"Alex?" Mr Spring's voice jarred me out of my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked him, confused.

He sighed. "You really have to pay more attention in class. I asked you what the answer to the equation on the board is?" He said, looking at me reproachfully.

"Um, I think the answer is that x is equal to negative a third." I mumbled, blushing and looking down.

"Correct," he said, walking away. As he continued teaching, I looked at the clock. Only five more minutes left, and then it was art. My favorite class, the one I was good at. Conveniently it was also my last class of the day.

When the bell went, I picked up my bag and hurried out of the classroom. Walking to my locker, I popped an earphone in and started playing My Chemical Romance. I got to my locker and opened the door, dropping off my books and picking up my art portfolio.

"Hey," said a familiar voice as someone pulled out my earphone. Bradley, the school "bad boy".

"Hey Bradley," I said wearily.

"Well don't you look nice today?" He said, biting his pierced lip. That drove just about every other girl crazy. Every girl but me. He leaned closer to me. "So, are you busy tonight?" He asked me, his voice low.

"I'm not going out with you Bradley." I said, shutting my locker door and turning away from him.

He darted in front of me pushing me backwards. He pushed me against the lockers, one of his hands on the lockers behind me, showing off his muscles. "That's okay, I like it when you play hard to get anyway baby," he leaned in to kiss me and I ducked under his arm. "One day I'll get you babe, one day you'll fall for me!" He yelled as I walked away.

"Don't hold your breath. Or maybe you should, it could be fun watching you turn blue!" I called over my shoulder as I walked away. He wasn't my type anyway. Stocky and bad. The boy I liked was quieter, with floppy brown hair and irresistible emerald green eyes. Jack. He was in my art class.

I walked into art to find him sharpening his pencil by the door. "Hey Alex," he said, flicking his hair out of his eyes and grinning at me.

"Oh, hey Jack," I said, smiling back at him. "Do you want to come and sit? I can show you my latest piece."

"Okay," he said, and loped over to the table where I was already seated. I dragged my portfolio out of my bag and flipped it to my latest work. It was a picture of my mom and her fiancée, Phil. He had his arms around her and she was laughing, her head flung back. "That's really good," he murmured, leaning closer, over me. I breathed in his scent.

"Thank you," I replied. But I knew what was wrong with the picture. Hidden in the lines that I had sketched was my mom's face, drawn in sorrow. Above her was a plane. It meant that something bad was going to happen with Phil, and she was going to leave for a while.

Jack sat down next to me and pulled out his portfolio. He opened it to his latest work, a lion sketched, head thrown back in a roar. "That's amazing," I said, pointing at his drawing.

"Thank you," he said, turning his breathtaking eyes towards me. I blushed and looked away, putting the finishing touches on my artwork. Eventually he looked away and began sketching again.

About half an hour into the period, my foot slipped from where it had been resting on my chair and bumped Jack's. "Sorry," I muttered.

"That's okay," he said grinning. He bumped mine leg back playfully. An accidental nudge turned into a wild game of footsie and lots of laughter.

As I was walking out of the art room, I caught myself. I had been daring to hope that he would begin to like me back. But I was wrong. Nobody could ever love a freak like me.

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