The Word Cloud

    "Hey, Cadence." Griffin said to me, closing his sketchbook without looking at me.
    "How did you know it was me?" I inquired.

    "Well, you're wearing socks that have 'Cadence' embroidered on them. I only know one person named Cadence - you." Griffin replied, looking at me over his square glasses, his eyes flashing into a vibrant green.

    "Oh." I said, looking down at my knee-high red and gray striped socks that I use to keep my legs warm in the winter since the girls' uniform is a skirt year-round. "By the way, your eyes did that weird color changey thing again."

    "What eye color changey thing?" He winced. "I think you're dumbing me up. Changey? Really?" He shook his head, laughing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

    I rolled my eyes. "I'm not dumbing you up!" He gave me a look that said, 'Don't lie to yourself, Cadence.' I laughed. "And I'm sure you know what eye color changey thing I'm talking about. Your eyes are green when seconds ago they were navy."

    "I still don't know what your talking about, but oh well..." He said, looking down at the cover of his sketchbook.

    "So, whatcha drawing?" I asked, reaching for the book. He pulled it away and I put on a pouty face. "Aww, come on, lemme see!" I lean forward and grab the book from his hands before he could pull it further away. I open it up to the first page and I see a very detailed drawing of an eagle silhouetted against the hot desert sun. "Wow," I murmured, turning the page. The next picture was of a butterfly drying its wings after crawling out of its chrysalis. I began to turn the page, but he caught my wrist.

    "Uh, I think that's enough..." I shook his hand off and continued to the next page. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop me from looking at whatever was on the next page. I took one look at the drawing and knew why he didn't want me to see it.

    It was of me. It was from that first day he arrived at school. I was sitting in my chair first period, smiling and looking down at my desk where my notebook was laid. I must've been looking at the picture of that griffin.

    "Yeah..uh, pretend you never saw that, okay?" He grabbed the book from my limp hands and blushed.

    I blinked then blushed as well, ducking my head. "That's gonna be hard...But, if it makes you feel better, you just made my day."

    He grinned. "Yes, that does make me feel better. Thanks." He opened his sketchbook back up to a blank sheet, then looks at me. "You gonna keep smiling like an idiot or give me a real smile?" I laugh and blush again before putting on a semi-bittersweet smile, looking at my socks.

    The minutes tick on by, and my gaze flits from his face to the drawing to the kids playing on the jungle gym and back to my socks, repeating the process while my thoughts run freely. I th0ught back on my conversation with my mom, and I wondered why she completely ignored the fact that I killed Galena. Was it her way of saying I didn't kill her, it was the boys that made a worse decision than I did? That it was my friends' fault for pushing me into it with threats? Because neither were true. I didn't have to do what my friends told me to. I could have ignored them, found better friends. Shoot, I could have befriended Galena. And while the boys that touched her did something wrong that they shouldn't have, they wouldn't have ever done that to her if I hadn't broken her glasses. While most people would try to blame it on other people to avoid the guilt they deserved, I always pinned the blame on myself. Sometimes I blamed myself even when I hadn't done anything wrong.

    "I'm done." Griffin's voice brought me out of my deep thoughts, and I jumped with surprise.

    "How long has it been?"

    "A little less than an hour, why?" He handed me his sketchbook so I could take a look at his drawing, which I was sure was going to be amazing.

    "No reason, I was just wondering." I took the notebook carefully to avoid ripping any pages by accident and I study the picture. It looks so realistic, it could pass for a real picture in black and white, well, if it weren't in a sketchbook, anyway. I sighed.

    "What? Do you not like it?" His eyes changed from the vibrant green to a blue tinted with worry and curiosity.

    "No, no, I love it. Uh...Would you..Would you mind if I kept it?" I asked tentatively.     "Of course not. I drew it for you. I drew them both for you." He did a quick little scribble on the back of the page and ripped it out slowly and precisely so as not to tear into the drawing, then he flipped back to the picture of me smiling at my notebook and ripped it out. He looked at them once, as if making sure again that they were worthy of me, then handed them to me. I shuffled them together so that the corners lined up perfectly, then I laid them on my lap.

    "So, what have you been up to?" I asked him, my head cocked to the side.

    "Nothing much, really. What about you, Cadence?" He questioned me, continuing the drawing of the tree he had been working on earlier.

    "Oh. Um." Could I trust him enough to tell him about my dad? "Well, my.."

    His hand froze, pencil poised over the page that he was drawing on earlier, and he turned his head to look at me. "Yes? What?" It was like he knew I was nervous, hurt, scared, and everything, even though I was sure it didn’t show in my voice.

    "My dad... He... He got into the hospital."

    He raised his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead. "What happened? Is he okay?"

    "He's fine."

    "...Are you avoiding the first question for a reason?" His eyes flashed red for a split second, then went back to blue.

    "What...?" He was strange, that was for sure. "Well, I guess..."

    "...You can tell me, I won't tell anybody, I won't do anything except talk to you about it. However... If you really don't want to tell me, then you don't have to... I just want to be here for you." He was pretty good at using the guilt trick on me. If I chose not to tell him, I'd feel guilty for not telling him because then he'd think I didn't trust him enough and I'd end up spilling. If I went ahead and told him, he might go back on his word and tell social services or something.

    I told him everything on the spot. My father beat me, my mother was a passive lady who didn't fight back, and even about what happened that put him in the hospital. He listened intently the entire time I talked, and that made me feel good, like I was worth listening to, unlike what I've been used to with my father. I talked about it for a good half-hour, and when I was finished, he nodded and asked me if I wanted him to do anything.

    "No! Um. No." He raised his eyebrows, as if daring me to be doubtful of my seemingly solid answer. "No, don't do anything. The most it'll do is piss him off."

    "Really? That sucks. I could..." The look I gave him shot down anything he had to say before he said it, and he fell silent. "Well, just know I'm here for you, and everything that goes with that." He looked at his watch. "It's five-thirty... I'd better get home. We've been here since three."

    I widened my eyes. "Five-thirty? Oh no... Knowing my mom, she'll have sent my name into that Amber Alert thing." I got up and brushed anything that might've been on the back of my skirt off, then I started to stretch, but I stopped before I did. "I forgot, do you have a phone number? I was wanting to call you some time ago, but...yeah."

    "Oh, yeah. Of course." He gave me his cell phone number and told me to call whenever.

    "Okay, thanks. I can't give you mine though because of my--"

    "--Dad. I know, no worries. Just call whenever you get the chance. I hope your dad feels better, and it really sucks you have to deal with that on top of Galena's suicide." He grinned. "See you." Then he turned around and walked away, pencil in one hand and his sketchbook tucked under his arm, right after I realized the darkness of the purple crystal around his neck.