Scars Part 6

Alice ate lunch in the art room. Often she would paint while she ate, humming softly as she worked away at a still life and a cold turkey sandwich. Nobody else ever came to the art room during lunch, so it was the one part of the day that she could relax at school. Today though, her painting reflected her perturbed frame of mind. Rich blues that had begun as a tranquil seascape now swirled and thrashed like the storm that shook Alice’s mind. She was uneasy after English. Connie had never come back to class, and Alice had not seen her in the hall all day. Refusing to admit that she was worried over someone she hardly even knew, Alice sat in silence, determined to enjoy painting her picture. Still, her mind kept drifting to Connie’s strange behavior.

    Alice bit her lip as she worked, unconscious of time or sound outside of her own thoughts.

 Behind her, something clattered loudly to the floor. Whirling quickly around, Alice looked to see a student in a black t-shirt bending to pick up a pallet from the floor. Stomach flip-flopping, Alice hurriedly hid her face behind her hood. How long had he been there? She wondered, forgetting Connie and her troubles in a wave of panic.

  A rainbow of colors ran across the white linoleum, as the boy knelt to wipe up the spill. Alice felt a stab of guilt as she watched him struggle to keep ahead of the running paint. She was rude not to help him, but if she went over….

   The boy didn’t seem to know where anything belonged in the art room, and she realized that she had never seen him before. Maybe he’s new. Fighting fear, Alice stood and got a roll of paper towels from the cupboard. Walking the five steps she needed to reach this unknown boy was harder for her than a journey across Death Valley in July.  

  Alice held out the towels with a shaky hand, but the boy didn’t respond. She waved them a little, but still nothing. He didn’t look up.

She cleared her throat. Nothing.
She cleared it louder. Nothing.

 
  “Hey, do you need these?” The sound of her own voice felt louder than a bomb going off, but the kid barely noticed. He looked up at her in surprise, and Alice prepared herself for the inevitable grimace of revulsion.

 
  “Oh sure, thanks.” He smiled, no sign of shock or horror on his face. Alice stared. For the first time she could remember, a person had looked at her as if she were anybody else.

 

    “You’re welcome.” She stammered. But thank you was in her voice.