The right half of the page looked like it was supposed to represent the day time. Except it couldn’t be. Because the sun wasn’t yellow—no, it was an icy blue, with white smudges around the edges of the sun as if frost was slowly spreading over its surface. The sky and everything around it was blank, just white. And the flowers at the bottom were wilted, their petals all shrivelled up in their dying state.
But right in the centre of the page was a drawing of a girl. She had no eyes, no nose, and no mouth. Just a body, an empty face and long, endless black hair flowing to the side and blending into the night sky and the other contrasting against the bland white of the daytime.
One girl drawn against two settings, each half of her belonging to a different time. Scribbled in the bottom corner, in silver ink and in thin, cursive writing were the words:
And, like the moon,
she had a side of her
so dark, even the stars
couldn’t shine on it.
She had a side of her
so cold, that even the sun
couldn’t burn on it.
– A quote by Abigail J.
Asa was vaguely aware that his lips were ajar, if the slight dryness in his mouth was any indication.
The drawing was…
It was… It just was.
And it pulled on his heartstrings that he thought they were going to snap painfully.
Swallowing, he quickly reached that extra distance and grabbed the journal, snapping it shut like he never wanted to lay his eyes on it ever again. He felt…guilty. There was a prickling sensation along his arms and neck as if he’d just stumbled across something so profoundly intimate. Something he could never un-see. Something that wasn’t meant for his eyes.
It was more than guilt, whatever this was that was twisting the insides of his stomach into a tight coil. He felt like he’d just dived into a pool with unbelievable depth. A depth he wasn’t prepared for. And if he, Asa, was finding it difficult to swim above it and breathe again, he didn’t even know if he could begin to understand the intensity of the person behind the painting, the person who was actually drowning.
That person being Carmen West.
12.
Queen Bee
Asa walked into school the next day, with Carmen’s art journal tucked into his backpack as usual, and felt like he was carrying boulders on his back instead of books.
When he saw her down the hallway, standing in front of her locker and smiling to herself, he had to turn around and walk the other way.
He felt wrong. He felt like he’d walked in on her stripping off every single piece of clothing. Felt like he walked in on her shedding off her outer skin and flesh. That he’d stolen a glance at something sacred. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but he just did.
Someone bumped into his shoulder as the person walked past him, and he immediately recognised the familiar blonde head of his best friend.
“Isla, come on—”
But she’d already turned into a corridor and was out of earshot.
“What’d you do?” Willa’s voice reached his ears as she stopped in her tracks and stood next to him. “Told her that her eyeliner wasn’t on point?” She snickered.
Asa furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Willa questioningly.
She rolled that pair of amazing hazel eyes. “Oh, come on.” She grinned, and Asa would be an idiot to not acknowledge how goddamn attractive this girl was. “I know the type. Head cheerleader, queen bee of the school, and also an alpha bitch.”
Asa nodded, his fondness for her softening his eyes. Not that Willa seemed to notice. “That’s Isla Martin for you.” He grinned. Because, God, yes, was Isla the queen bee. And an alpha bitch, too. But Asa wouldn’t have her any other way. She put him in his place when he got out of hand and gave him a good piece of her mind when he needed to hear it.
And he knew how much she worked her ass off to maintain her position as head cheerleader and how she poured into every practice session with her squad. In Isla’s eyes, cheerleading was just as prominent a sport as any other, and no one could convince her otherwise. The girl had a true passion for it.
“See? What’d I tell you?” Willa shook her head. “I’ve read enough of chick-lit to know how the whole social hierarchy thing works.”
“I’m still not following,” Asa said.
Willa sighed, glancing at him with an air of long-suffering patience. “The littlest thing about her appearance can set her off. She and then her posse—”
“Posse?” Asa cocked his head to the side.
Willa nodded, seeming utterly sure of herself. “Her little group of minions, you know? The self-deprecating girls that hang on the queen bee’s every word and do whatever she says, following her around like lost puppies? Yeah, them. Tell one of them their eyebrows look out of shape and see them take off running faster than me when Nutella is around.” She shuddered in disgust at the very thought. “So pathetic if you ask me.”
Except I didn’t ask you, Asa wanted to say but held his tongue. Something about the way Willa spoke of those girls rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t feel okay with it.
Wasn’t she being a little too judgemental? Especially for someone who joined the school only recently?
“Isla takes pride in how she looks,” he said instead. “She likes to always appear at the top of her game.”
“Yeah? What game is that?” Willa scoffed. “How many guys she can score as
