In Time Will It Come, Kaitlyn Garlets [classic novels to read .TXT] 📗

/> He looks down, almost like he’s disappointed that I was leaving. “Oh, that’s okay. See you some time, then,” he said, waving as I turned to leave. I don’t say anything.

2:36 P.M.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

I love drawing class because it’s the only thing that is actually real to me in my life anymore. I wish it was every single class I had, but then I would never get out of high school. This is the only time when I can actually be part of myself without anyone telling me not to be. Mr. Whitetaker, my drawing teacher, is one of the nicest teachers I have ever met. He doesn’t tell you that your drawing is inappropriate or not worthy of being good enough to be in this class like everyone else thinks.
I enter the class room and sit down at the very back, where I can actually concentrate on what I want to work on. But now I don’t have anything to work on because my sketch pad had been taken from me from that stupid teacher.
As I sit down, Mr. W’s phone rings and he answers it immediately and glances up at me. My heart skips a beat as he frowns. He hangs the phone up and heads over to me. I already know what this is about. “Zora, your needed in the principal’s office right now. It’s about your sketch pad. I’ll excuse you for today, if you want.” I nod and gather my things, and head for the door. I walks passed someone. That someone is the new boy. He smiles and almost waves at me. I actually notice that he’s brown haired like me and has beautiful eyes that I could easily draw. I shake the thought out of my head and walk to the principal’s office.
I knock on his door and I enter once I hear him say so. I take a seat in the uncomfortable chair and wait for him to yell at me. I can see my sketch pad on his desk. My shoulders slump down as I notice how red his face is.
“Zora, can you explain why you would be drawing inappropriate pictures in this notebook here?” he asks, holding up a picture I had drawn of a woman lying down, only covered up by a sheet and pillow. I shrug. “And this one?” he asks, flipping through some more of my drawings.
“I don’t see a problem. Its art, not porn,” I reply shyly. His face turns redder and I can see his bald head with at least four veins popping out from his skin. I almost smile, but I hide it so I wouldn’t get into trouble.
“This is not art. This is inappropriate drawings of people. Do you know what the school board would do if they found this out? I would lose my job and so would Miss Valtipo. Students have seen this. This is not expectable. Take this and put it away. I don’t want to see it out nor taken from you again, do you hear me? No more drawing at school unless it’s an assignment, you hear me?” I nod, swallowing a lump in my throat. Tears fall from my cheek and the Principal’s face turns back to normal. Maybe he thinks I learned my lesson and would never draw people naked again. I still don’t see the problem. Like I had said, this is art, not porn.


2:54 P.M. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora


I walk back into the art room, glad that there are only four people in this class. Wait, scratch that. Now there are five, including me. That new guy is there. And he’s drawing something in his own sketch pad. At my usual table. I almost want to cry. No one ever sits at that table anymore, not since Tom Pulaski barfed all over that table. I don’t get what their problem is about that table. It’s been cleaned. I sigh and take a seat at the table, not bothering to look up. I take my sketch pad out and flip quickly to a blank page before he could see my drawings.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing my sketch pad. I narrow my eyes at him and yank my sketch pad away from him. He holds his hands up in the air, as if he was being arrested. His pencil is still in his hand. “Sorry, I just wanted to see your drawings. I saw one, and I thought it was good. I saw it when that teacher held it up in the air for everyone to see. That was really mean of her.” He looks down at his own drawing. I peer at it, amazed at how easily he had drawn what he was seeing from the window. I turn to look outside and I can see that he put a lot of time and effort into it, even if it was only from today.
What am I supposed to say to him? I don’t know him, obviously, but I wonder why he isn’t trying to make fun of me like everyone else does. Not that I’m complaining about it, though. It’s nice to actually have someone not make fun of me just because I’m different.
I don’t say anything, but I just continue to look at my blank sheet of paper in my sketch pad until my eyes start to water from not blinking. I blink and look around the room, and then I finally end up looking at the new guy, who smiles when I glance his way. I turn away from him and finally start sketching lines on my paper.
The drawing comes easily for me, just as it had come easily for him. I push that thought out of my mind as I draw legs of a female, sitting in a chair, gazing out the window, hoping for someone to come back. Its just like my dad, who waits for my real mother to come home, but already knows that that will never happen—and yet still watches for the moment that she finally does come back. I hadn’t even realized that I had been drawing such a thing until I noticed it when I finished, just as the last bell rang. Everyone was already gone, all but Mr. W and the new guy, who was working on his own drawing. I try not to glance at him, but my eyes wonder to where his hand was running the pencil over the face of someone. When did he start a new drawing? I hadn’t noticed. But then again, who am I to notice anything? I’m supposed to stay in my own corner, away from other people and keep to myself, but something kept making me glance up from my own drawing. I wish his arm wasn’t in the way. Then I could see what he was drawing.
The new guy looks up when he feels me watching him draw. “Oh,” he blushes and closes the drawing. He turns his head, causing the locks of his hair to move out of his eyes. “Did you say something?” I turn and look down at my own drawing and close my sketch pad and stand. I didn’t want to have to walk home. I wasn’t about to miss the bus anyways.
He stands as I turn to leave. “What’s your name? I asked around, but no one wanted to tell me. You know, people here aren’t too nice. They say mean things about you.”
I stop, not facing him. Am I supposed to answer him? I felt like crying right now. He totally just told me basically that no one around here sees me as their equal, which I already knew, but still, now I feel even lower now that he told me no one would tell him my name. That shows you how much they think of me. They couldn’t even tell him my name. Tears spring to my eyes and I walk out of the art room. I don’t turn back. I shouldn’t even be talking to him, even if he doesn’t know me. I don’t want him to know me, anyways. He would freak out if he knew me.
3:37 P.M.¬¬¬-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

I’m late for the bus. Again. This has been the third time this week. Dad hasn’t been too happy the first time and the second time it outraged him that I walked home. I don’t see what the big deal is, but there must be some reason if it upsets dad. Its cold out, but I have to walk home.
I walk to my locker, not bothering to rush because my bus has already left. It’s all because what’s-his-face wouldn’t stop bothering me while in art class. I sigh, glad that there isn’t anyone in the hallway. I look both directions before opening my locker just to make sure that there wasn’t anyone hiding out, ready to pounce on me when I wasn’t paying attention. When I am sure no one is there, I toss my text books into my locker and grab the ones I actually need and shove them into my backpack. Just as I close my locker, someone bangs their fists onto my locker door, making me jump back and screech. I slap a hand on my mouth as I see the one guy that I never wanted to be seen near ever again in my life.
“Go away,” I manage to spit out of my mouth, looking down at the ground. I slam my locker door, hoping his fingers are in the way of the locker door, but after a few seconds, I know that they weren’t because he isn’t screaming in pain. I turn, but he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me to him. He hugs me to his chest, rubbing his hand through my hair.
I try to shove him out of the way. “Let me go, Keegan,” I whisper, not bothering to shove him away anymore. I want so badly to have him next to me, but something inside of me tell me no, but my body won’t move.
“Baby, I miss you so much. We were good together. What happened to us?” He asked, looking down at me. I yank my hand out of his grip.
“You know exactly what happened between us,” I say, turning from him. “You didn’t want me anymore because I wouldn’t talk to you about what happened.”
“You know that I still care about you, right, baby?” he asks. I almost want to run to him and kiss him like we did before my brother died.
I laugh out loud. That was the first time I had actually laughed out loud and meant it in a long time. “If you still cared about me, then you would still be with me, but you don’t care about me. All you care about is getting into someone’s pants. Stay away from me,” I say. I turn and run, tears falling down my face. I can’t really see where I am going, but I know the school like the back of my hand, so I know where to turn to get to the front doors of the school.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn right, turn left. Turn left again, then straight on till morning.

4:27 P.M.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

Once I get into my house, I feel safer, even though I know I’m not. I poke my head around the corner, showing the living room and dad, who’s drinking. Great. Just great. This is just what I need right now.
I tip-toe to the kitchen, hoping dad couldn’t see me from the living room, which I knew was a less likely chance. He sees everything.
“Zora! Get the hell in here! Where the hell have you