Meet Xavier Alexander Sean

Meet Amanda Nicole Williamson

UPDATE!!!

Unfortunately, I will not be updating for a while. I shall keep you entertained with pictures of people and objects and little details on each character. Sorry for the inconvenience. :-)

-R

Chapter 1

This was supposed to be a normal day where the nerd, me, didn’t get involved with anybody else. Yeah, that went down the drain when I saw the jocks harassing the emo kid. Okay, so I never got to learning his name. Anyway, I had noticed for the past three weeks their harassment but never paid any attention to it. I decided I was just going to mind my own business. So much for that idea. I, being my kind self, walked over and helped the kid out.

            “Hey! Leave him alone! What’d he ever do to you?”

            “Woah. Hold it there, smart girl,” a blonde, tall jock said. “We were just seeing what his little black notebook had in it. Completely harmless.”

            “Not from where I was. Just leave, kay?”

            “Of course. We’d never hurt the smart girl,” said a brunette jock. Then he whispered, “She wouldn’t do our homework if we did.” I rolled my eyes and they stalked off to class.

            “You okay?” I asked the emo kid.

            “Yeah. For now anyway. Thanks, smart girl. No one’s ever done that for me.”

            “No problem. And do me a favor, don’t call me ‘smart girl.’ My name’s Amanda Williamson. I prefer Amy.”

            “Xavier Sean.”

            “Cool. Um. Don’t I have you in English.”

            “Actually, you have me in all your classes. You just don’t see me,” he said, picking up his stuff.“You’re the kid in the back. Yeah, now I-” I was cut off by the bell. “And we’re late for class.”

            “It doesn’t matter. He’ll write me up either way. I think it’s finally gotten to after school detention now.”

            “Well, come on. Let’s go.” We walked into English as Mr. Lewis was lecturing the class about the book we were reading, Gone With The Wind.

            “So wonderful of you two to join us. Miss Williamson, this isn’t something I would expect out of you. Mr. Sean, why doesn’t this surprise me?”

            “He was with me. I was helping him with the assignment that’s due tomorrow. You remember, the one that goes with the book. We lost track of time.”

            “Ah. I see. Well, take your seats.” He continues his lecture. It was really quite boring. I may be a nerd but I can’t stand romance stories. I looked over at Xavier to see what he was doing. For some reason, this kid has become quite interesting. He must’ve sensed me looking at him because he looked up. Something wrong? He mouthed. I shook my head.

            “Miss Williamson, Mr. Sean, I’d like to see you after class,” Mr. Lewis said. Of course. I’m not even going to say it. The bell rang and Xavier and I stayed where we were as the rest of the class left to go home. When the class room was empty, he and I walked up to Mr. Lewis’ desk. “I will let pass the fact that you were both late but talking while I am lecturing? That is not excusable. Partner research paper on the Civil War; due by Wednesday. Three pages. No arguments. Work together. That doesn’t mean do all the work, Miss Williamson. That also means that you don’t let her do all the work, Mr. Sean. You may leave.” We walked out of the room and out of the building.

            “I’m glad I got in trouble with you. I think we got off pretty easy,” Xavier said.

            “It’s not that bad. A partner research paper? A breeze. Wait. Don’t you have to go home?”

            “Yeah but I don’t want to. There’s no body there. My parents are out of town.”

            “Oh. I can see if you can stay at my place,” I offered.

            “Are you going to prom?” he asked.

            “Um. If I have a date, maybe. Why? Are you going?”

            “If I have a date.” We were silent the rest of the way to my house. I didn’t live far from the school. When we walked through the door my dad wasn’t home. I walked into the kitchen and found a note on the table.

            Amy, I won’t be home until 8. Go ahead and eat. Leave something in the fridge for me? - Dad

            I’ve done all the house work since my mother left us about three or four years ago. I set the note down on the table and turned to go upstairs.

            “Follow me.” He followed me upstairs to my bedroom. My room was covered with rock band posters. There was Green Day, Black Veil Brides, Tokio Hotel, My Chemical Romance, Pierce The Veil, A Day To Remember, and others. I set my stuff on the bed and looked at Xavier. He was looking around the room.

            “I’ve seen them live,” he said, pointing at a Pierce The Veil poster. “Met them. Met them. Seen them live. I’ve either met or seen all of these bands live. Except Black Veil Brides. I’ve been dying to see them.”

            “I’ve only seen Green Day live.”

            “I should take you to one of theirs,” he said, pointing at my poster of My Chemical Romance. “Best band I’ve ever seen live.”“We don’t even know each other and we’re already bonding. How about we talk later and work on that paper? You can stay the night if you’d like.”

            “You know what they say about all work no play.”

            “That’s not the case. I said after we finished we could talk. It won’t take as long as it would if it were just you. I’m not saying that to be mean or anything.”

            “Well, damn. They weren’t kidding when you were the first one finished with every thing.”

            “Um.” I wasn’t used to people cussing. I mean, my dad cussed when he was drunk. I’m not a religious person or anything but still didn’t use the words. Apparently, he caught the sort of surprised look on my face.

            “What’s the matter? Never heard the word ‘damn’ before?”

            “No. I mean, I’ve heard it but I’ve never heard anyone other than my dad use the word.”

            “Well, well, well. Aren’t we just little miss goody two shoes.”

            “Hey. I’m not that good.”

            “Yes you are. You’ve probably never stolen anything. You were brought up with ribbons and bows and flowers and that shit.”

            “I didn’t have to lie for you. I didn’t have to help you at all. I could’ve made it to English on time,” I said, getting a bit angry. “And if you haven’t noticed, my bedroom tells a whole different story.”

            “I’ve noticed.”

            “Can we just work on the paper? I have some books over on the shelf about the Civil War. If you want to use my desk top, feel free to do so.”

            “Your dad pay for these books?” he asked, picking up a book.

            “No. My uncle gave me those. The laptop in the drawer was from my grandparents and my dad bought me a used desktop. But that was back when my mother was still living here.”

            “Tough luck.” We didn’t say anything else on the matter. About three hours later, we finished the paper. It turned out to be four and a half pages, double spaced. I printed it out to the printer in my dad’s room and got up to go get it. I walked back into my room and searched through my school bag for my English folder. I slid it in the folder and looked at the clock. It was nearly 7.

            “Aw man. I completely forgot about dinner. Crap.” Xavier looked at me.

            “Order a pizza,” he suggested.

            “With what money? I’m broke and Dad doesn’t get paid until Friday.”

            “Here,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and handing me a twenty.

            “But this  is your money.”

            “You saved my ass from getting kicked. The least I can do is pay for supper.”

            “Okay. What toppings?”

            “Everything but anchovies.”

            “My kind of pizza,” I said, walking out of the room and downstairs. I called the pizza place and ordered two pizzas; one with everything but anchovies and the other with pepperoni, mushrooms, olives, and sausage. I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the clock. I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out until I saw Xavier wave his hand in front of my face.

            “Hi. Zone out much?” he asked.

            “Yeah. Habit.”

            “What were you thinking about?”

            “Zoë Manfrae.”

            “Who?”

            “My mother.”

            “What about her?”

            “Just wondering why she left, what we did for her to leave us.”

            “It wasn’t yours or your dad’s fault,” he said. “That’s like saying it’s your fault I cut.”

            “What?”

            “That wasn’t supposed to come out.”

            “I’ll keep it a secret if you keep secret my dad drinks.”

            “I can do that,” he said. I sat thinking about how we were so much alike. He like some of the same bands I do, he like the same kind of pizza I do. Not to mention, we both cut. I heard the doorbell ring. “Pizza’s here,” he said.

            “Yeah, I’ll get it,” I said, standing up and walking to the door. I paid the guy, he handed me the boxes and left. “Dinner’s ready. I just need to figure out which pizza is which.” I opened the top box. It had everything on it. I set that one on the table and put the other one in the oven to keep it warm. I sat down at the table and picked the smallest piece out of the box.

            “You should eat more than that. No wonder you’re skinny, you hardly eat anything.”

            “Three hours with me and already you’re learning things no one else will ever know,” I said, getting up and grabbing a plate from the cupboard. I threw a couple of slices on the plate and walked up stairs. I set the plate on my bed and sat down. I folded my legs up and stared at the plate.

            “You seem lost in a world you’ve known for a long time,” Xavier said, walking in the room. I looked up at him.

            “Maybe I am.” He was about to reply when I heard the front door open. That may mean Dad’s home. I got up and walked downstairs with Xavier hot on my trail. My dad, John Williamson, was a tall, tan man with beautiful golden eyes and dark brown hair. Zoë, my mother, was a tall, blonde haired blue-eyed woman with a figure. I, on the other hand, have black hair and ice blue-gray eyes that match my five foot six height. 

            “Who’s this?” Dad asked, looking at Xavier and holding a note in his hand. From where I was standing, the handwriting was completely unfamiliar. And had my name at the bottom.

             “Xavier Sean. He’s a friend from school,” I said, staring at the note.

            “Aren’t your parents worried about you, Xavier?” he asked, looking at the note.

            “They’re out of town, sir. They probably won’t be back for a month or so.” Sir?

            “Could he stay here for a week?”

            “Well, if he’s your friend, sure. Just as long as he doesn’t mind sharing a room with you and if he wants to.”

            “I’d like that. Thank you, sir.”

            “Call me John.”

            “I’ll have to go back to my house and get some clothes. Is it all right if Amy comes with me?”

            “That’s up to her. Just be back before ten,” Dad said, walking over to the oven. Xavier went upstairs and I was about to when Dad stopped me. “Amy, did you order pizza?” I stopped in my tracks.

            “Yeah. Why?”

            “How’d you pay for it?”

            “Xavier offered to pay for it.”

            “Okay. Just curious,” he said, grabbing a plate from the cupboard. “Is he a new friend because I’ve never seen him around.”

            “Dad, don’t worry about him. He’s a nice guy,” I said, walking upstairs. When I made it to the top of the stairs, Xavier was slipping on his jacket.

            “Your dad doesn’t like me, does he?”

            “That’s not it. He’s just worried about me. I’m the only thing he has left since Zoë. He just doesn’t want to lose me any sooner than he has to.”

            “I can understand that.”

    “Well, let’s go get your clothes. And whatever else it is you need.” I grabbed my jacket and shoes then we walked out the house and toward where he lived. He didn’t live far from my house; maybe one or two houses away. His house, though, looked more like a castle. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, letting me in. The inside matched the outside; it had a Victorian look. There were Victorian furniture, Victorian curtains. He led me upstairs to his room, which had a more modern look to it. Just like mine, the walls were covered in band posters and the very little seen walls were black. The carpet on the floor was a faded white. The curtains and quilt were a midnight blue. It just looked so… dark. He walked over to the closet, pulled a bag off the top shelf, and started shoving clothes in the bag.

    “Could you put my make-up, straightener, and the such in the bag on my desk?” he asked, pointing at his desk. I grabbed the bag and began shoving make-up and the such in it. I closed it and l turned to look at Xavier, who was still packing clothes. I set the bag on his bed and stood over him, staring into his closet. He had a lot of band tees and skinny jeans. I pulled a pair out and held them up to see if they’d fit me. The jeans were black with a frayed hole in one knee. “You can have them if you want. I can’t fit into them.”

    “Really?” I asked, lowering the jeans. “Why’d you buy them?”

    “I liked them and thought they’d fit me. When I tried them on, they didn’t fit.” He continued to pack clothes. “I’ve been meaning to get rid of them but haven’t had the time.”

    “Um. Thanks.”

    “And you can have this shirt, as well. Seeing as you like the band so much,” he said, handing me a shirt. I held it up and on the front was Tokio Hotel.

    “Are you sure you want me to have this?”

    “Sure,” he said, straightening up. He grabbed a pair of boots, slung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed the bag on his bed.

    “Can I help you with something?”

    “You can carry these,” he said, handing me the boots. “They’re yours.”

    “Thanks.”

    “Those boots, they go with that outfit and they don’t fit my feet.”

    “Are you gay?” I asked as we left the room. He stopped.

    “What?”

    “I’m sorry. That was rude. You don’t have to answer it, if you don’t want to.”

    “I’m not gay, just fashionable,” he said with a smile. We walked out the house and back to my place. When we arrived, it was quiet. Dad must’ve been asleep or something because I didn’t see him. I walked upstairs and threw my stuff in my room. I heard something fall and stopped in my tracks.

    “Dad?” I called. No answer. I heard something else fall. It sounded like it came from Dad’s room. I walked over to his door and opened it.

    “Amanda? Is that you?” Not again. The only time my dad calls me ‘Amanda’ is when he’s had too much to drink or he’s mad at me.

    “Dad. You’ve been drinking again,” I stated. This happened more often than not.

    “Amy? Is everything okay?” Xavier asked from behind me.

    “Your best bet is to just go into my room. Now isn’t the best time,” I said, looking over my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him walk away. I turned my head and walked into Dad’s dark room. He was sitting on his bed holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a letter in the other.

    “Amanda, your mother wrote to us again. Want to read it?” he said, his words slurred. He held the letter out to me. I took it and began reading it. It really was Zoë. She was talking about her new life, her new husband. She wrote that she couldn’t have anymore kids and that she didn’t want anymore anyway. It broke me. And it must’ve done more than that to Dad.

    “Dad, why don’t you go to bed?” I said, setting the letter down. “Here, give me the bottle, please.”

    “Don’t touch that bottle,” he said, standing up. I backed up toward the door, kicking it closed with my foot. “Come now, Amanda. You don’t fear your dad, do you?”

    “Dad, please, just go to bed. Put the bottle down and get some sleep,” I begged.

    “No!” he shouted, throwing the bottle at me. I ducked and covered my head as the bottle hit the door and shattered, showering me with whiskey and broken glass. I looked up just as the back of his hand came down and hit my face. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Dad continued to beat me, but I didn’t defend myself. I knew that he was going to have to stop. After a few minutes, he stopped beating me and went to bed. I stood up, limped out of the room and went into the bathroom to bandage myself. Just as I was cleaning the gash on my arm, someone knocked on the door. I tensed up.

    “Hang on, I’ll be out in a minute,” I said, thinking it was Dad wanting to use the bathroom. I wrapped my arm in a warm cloth and opened the door. Xavier was standing in front of me with a confused look. He looked at me then at my arm then back at me.

    “What happened?”

    “I fell down the stairs.”

    “What was that shattering glass sound?”

    “That could have been the vase I broke.”

    “It sounded like it came from up stairs.”

    “Oh. I dropped a glass of water in my dad’s bedroom.”

    “You’re lying to me. I can see it in your eyes.”

    “I’m not lying! I’m a klutz!” I grabbed the First Aid kit and shoved past him. I walked into my room, sat down at my desk, and continued to bandage myself.

    “I can see through your story,” Xavier said, walking in the room.

    “Please don’t tell me that you plan on carrying on with this. I just got my dad to go to bed.”

    “Then we’ll take it downstairs.”

    “Not the greatest idea. He can hear us down there,” I said, standing up and grabbing one of the forgotten pieces of pizza. “Just drop it, kay?” I took a bite out of the pizza and winced. My lip was split and bleeding badly.

    “Here,” he said, grabbing the cloth. He started dabbing my busted lip. He was gentle while cleaning the blood off my lip.

    “Thanks.”

    “How did this really happen?”

    “Persistent bastard,” I said without thinking. I covered my mouth in surprise.

    “Little miss goody two shoes said her first cuss word.”

    “Shut up.”

    “Anyway, answer my question. How did it happen?”

    “That’s not your business.”

    “I’ll be staying here for a week, I think it is my business.”

    “My dad. Okay? When he’s drunk, he beats me.”

    “Do you want me to call the police and an ambulance?”

    “What?! Are you stupid?”

    “Are you? He beats you and gets away with it!”

    “If they lock him away, I’ll have no one to turn to, nowhere to go. You’ll be taking away the only family I have left.”

    “What about your mother?”

    “Zoë? Yeah, because she wants me,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “She wrote to us saying she couldn’t have anymore kids and that she didn’t want any. Tell you anything?”

    “I didn’t-”

    “Know? You wouldn’t have if I’d never told you.”

    “I’m so sorry.”

    “Now do you realize why I don’t call the police? I have no other family beside him,” I said, walking over to my bookshelf. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, I was just looking.

    “Is it all right if I take you to get your hair cut this weekend?”

    “What?” I asked, turning around.

    “I asked if it was okay for me to take you to go get your hair cut.”

    “This weekend? I don’t know. It depends on how it gets cut.”

    “Whatever style you want.”

    “There is one style,” I said, walking over to my bedside table. I pulled out my laptop and searched through my pictures for the hairstyle I liked. It was considered an “emo” style. The hairstyle was long in the back and had long bangs covering an eye. The color of the hair was black with ice blue streaks.

    “I think it would look nice on you,” he said, playing with a strand of my hair.

    “Do you want something from me?”

    “Hm? Yeah. Would you be my girlfriend?”

    “Woah. Hold the line. We barely know each other and-”

    “Correction, you barely know me.”

    “Whatever. Either way, I don’t know much about you and you want me to be your girlfriend?”

    “Is that a yes?”

    “No. I mean, I’d have to get to know you first.”

    “Oh. I guess so….”

    “That doesn’t mean bug me about, either.”

    “I won’t, I promise.”

    “Yeah, okay,” I yawned.

    “Tired?”

    “Is it that noticeable?”

    “Yeah,” he said. “I can leave whilst you change.”

    “If you don’t mind.” He left and closed the door and I started changing. After I’d changed, I opened the door to let Xavier back in the room. He walked in as I walked out to get a glass of water while he changed. I didn’t hear any sounds coming from Dad’s room. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen when a sharp pain went through my foot. I turned the kitchen light on and looked at my foot. There was a piece of glass stuck in my foot. I looked at the floor and noticed more broken glass. I sighed and grabbed the tweezers from one of the drawers and pulled the sharp object from my foot. After putting a band-aid on the bleeding cut, I grabbed the broom and swept up the broken glass. I picked a piece up and pressed it against my arm. Just as I was dragging it against my skin and blood started beading up to the surface, I heard a crash in the front hall. I dropped the piece of glass and went into find out what it was. I walked in the front hall and saw a tall, beautiful woman. It wasn’t Zoë, I’d have recognized her. The woman stared at my arm, which was bleeding. She crouched down like a cat ready to pounce.

    “Amy, move. And cover your arm. She can smell the blood,” Xavier said, jumping in front of me. Then he started speaking in some weird language I’d never heard before. I went into the kitchen, grabbed some paper towels and covered my bleeding arm. I heard more crashes and silently hoped Dad couldn’t hear them. I walked over to the sink and ran my arm under warm water to wash the blood  off. I looked outside and saw cat eyes staring at me. I forgot about Angel, my snow white cat. I walked over to the back door and went to let her in, but was stopped. Xavier was holding the door.

    “Why-?”

    “Don’t open that door.”

    “What about Angel?”

    “Who’s Angel?”

    “My cat.”

    “Oh, all right,” he said, moving his hand. I opened the door and a big, white, fluffy cat darted past us. He stared after her.“That’s a cat? Looks like a giant white squirrel.”

    “Shut up. I didn’t see your cat.”

    “I have a lizard, not a cat.”

    “Oh.” A silence passed.

    “Let me help you with that,” he said, indicating my arm. Without saying anything, I held my bleeding arm out to him. “Did she scratch you?”

    “No. The counter caught me as I was walking by.”

    “She must’ve smelt the blood from a mile away,” he said, placing a paper towel over the blood on the floor.

    “She must have a really good nose.”

    “She’s a vampire,” he said bluntly.

    “How’s that possible?”

    “Well, when a mommy vampire and a daddy vampire love each other-”

    “Be serious.”

    “She was most likely bitten, or she was born like that.”

    “I don’t even want to know how you know this.”

    “I do my homework,” he said, turning back to my arm.

    “Vampire hunter?”

    “You could say that.”

    “I don’t want to know anymore. I’d rather not know.”

    “It’s better you didn’t know.” He pressed on my arm.

    “Ow.”

    “Sorry.”

    “What the hell?” I heard come from the front hall. And Dad was awake. Perfect. Dad walked in, holding his head.

    “Dad, I thought you were asleep.”

    “The noises woke me. Could you give me a glass of water and some Advil?” he asked. I walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, then filled it with water. I handed the glass to Dad and grabbed the Advil out of a drawer. I handed those to Dad and began running a cloth under water to wash the blood off the counter. My arm still stung, but I didn’t feel it; I was used to the pain by now.

    “Dad, why don’t you go back to bed while I clean up the front hall?” I asked over my shoulder.

    “I think I’ll do that,” he said, taking the Advil and drinking the water. “Goodnight.” He walked out of the kitchen. I heard him walk upstairs. That left Xavier and me alone with Angel, who was eating out of her bowl. I shook my head and went into the front hall to assess the damage. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was: there were three broken picture frames, a busted vase, a knocked over stand, and water on the wood floor. I sighed and went into the linen closet for a couple of towels. I mopped up the water, threw the towels aside, and grabbed the broom. After sweeping up the broken glass and setting up the stand, I walked into the kitchen and sat down.

    “You may need to have stitches,” Xavier said, sitting down as well.

    “Nah. I think it’ll be fine,” I said, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m going to die tomorrow.”

    “That’s not something you should joke about,” he said, all serious.

    “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I wasn’t going to bleed to death.” We remained silent for few. In that silence, I began picking at one of the older scabs on my arm.

    “Don’t do that,” Xavier said, breaking the silence. “It’s a bloody wonder you haven’t bled death. Or passed from the blood loss.” I stopped picking at the scab and stood up. I walked through the front hall and up the stairs to my room. When I walked in, I looked at the clock. The time was 9:35 pm. I threw myself on my bed and pulled my book of lyrics and poems out and flipped through them.

    “Have you ever heard the song Mandy by Barry Manilow?” I looked up as Xavier walked in.

    “I don’t think so. Why?”

    “Your name, Amanda. Mandy is short for Amanda.”

    “Okay. And?”

    “You should go by Mandy.”

    “Amy’s better.”

    “It’s cute but I like Mandy better.”

    “We are not having an argument over my name. Not happening.”

    “I love the chorus of that song,” he said, changing the subject.

    “Like I’ve said, I’ve never heard it.”

    “The chorus goes:

    Oh Mandy
    You came and you gave without taking
    But I sent you away, oh Mandy
    You kissed me and stopped me from shaking
    And I need you today oh Mandy”

    “I was never much for the older music.”

    “I think you’d love it.”

    “If you say so,” I said, looking at my poems and lyrics again.

    “What are you writing?”

    “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said, closing my notebook.

    “Are you always this rude?” he asked. I looked up at him. I’d never noticed how… handsome he looked.

    His hair was the color of a raven with red streaks in his bangs, which covered his eyes when he looked down. The back of his hair was straight and came to the middle of the back of his neck, which had a tattoo of a skull surrounded by flames on it. His eyes, currently having no make-up around them, were a deep gray. He was tall; I’d say about six feet or so. His face was pierced multiple places; his right eyebrow, the left side of his lower lip, and the left nostril had a hoop in it. The tongue stud in his mouth made him slur some of his word with an s. Around his neck was a chain with a Celtic cross on it. One of his earlobes was decorated with hoops, the other with a couple of studs and a dangling spike. His slim, skeletal fingers were decorated with various rings; everything from bands to a jeweled spider on his right ring finger. His finger nails were painted a deep, almost black, purple. For the most part his skin was almost pure white, but wasn’t completely. The color of his skin made the scars on his forearms and wrists stand out, as if they were painted on him.

    “Hello?” he said, breaking my thoughts. “I know I look like a freak, but I’m not that much of a freak. Am I?”

    “No. Nothing like that. I was just… thinking.”

    “What about?” He sat down on the bed next to me.

    “Nothing of importance.”

    “Nothing of importance or nothing you want to tell me?

    “Both.”

    “Could you do me a favor?”

    “Depends.”

    “I have this itch to draw you. I have a million pictures, hand drawn, of you reading or writing.”

    “Okay? Stalker much?

    “And I want a front view of you. Your face and body,” he said, ignoring my comment. “You can pose any way you like. You can pose naked if that’s what floats your boat.” He shrugged.

    “Naked is not happening, but I’ll pose for your drawing.” I stood up and sat against the wall. My legs were folded up to my chest. My arms were thrown across my knees. I looked up a Xavier, who was sitting on the floor with a sketch pad, pencil, eraser, and what looked like colored pencils in his lap and on the floor next to him.

    “Could you put on of your legs down? I can’t see your face.” I folded my right leg under my left and rested my right hand on the floor next to my thigh.

    “How’s this?”

    “Tilt your head to the right a bit.” I did as I was told.

    “Now?”

    “Perfect! Don’t move,” he said, looking down and beginning to draw. I watched as he continuously looked up and looked back down. His hand practically flew across the paper as he drew. My eyes kept going from the clock to him and back again. It was almost ten when he’d finished.

    “Okay, I’m finished,” he said, throwing his sketch pad and the such on my bed. I stood up and yawned. It was quite late and there was still school, no matter what I looked like. I’ll just wear a long sleeved shirt to cover my arms. I glanced at his sketch pad. What I saw was incredible. His drawing looked almost like me. He drew the cuts and scars so that they stood out and it made me look quite pretty.   

    “That’s… wonderful. The drawing, I mean.”

    “Thanks,” he said, putting his coloring pencils, pencil, and eraser in a pencil case.

    “Can I look through it?”

    “Sure.” I picked up his sketch pad and started flipping through it. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d had many pictures of me. There was one of me with glasses on and reading, one of me with my hand up. All of them had me facing forward or looking down. In most, you couldn’t see my face, only my back of my head or the side of my face.

    “Why am I the only thing you draw?” He stopped and looked at me.

    “You have so many flaws to you that they make you beautiful. When I saw flaws, I saw beauty with imperfections.”

    “Beautiful, huh?” I had to think about that. Someone who actually thought I was beautiful. I continued to flip through the sketch book. As I looked at the last few, I yawned again.

    “Here,” Xavier said, holding his hand out for his sketch pad. I handed it to him and flopped back on my bed. “Where do I sleep?” I turned my head to look at him.

    “I guess we could share the bed. If you don’t mind.” He crawled onto the bed next to me. My bed was a queen sized bed. It was big enough for four people. I slid off the bed and went to turn off the light. In the process of walking back to the bed in a dark room, I tripped over something.

    “You okay?”

    “Yep. Just tripped.”

    “You really are a klutz.”

    “Yup,” I said, crawling onto the bed and under them covers. I snuggled close to him and drifted off to sleep.