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I stared down at the finished piece of art.
*More like s**t;* my mind retorted. I slapped down the colored pencil, and stared at the others around me; working diligently.
All of theirs...Were breathtaking. And-And what they were saying...Absolutely wanted me to bash their heads into the scratched wood of a table.
"Oh my, I did a terrible shading job." Lies, it was spetacular!
"I really don't like how I did the gradient on this..." Uhm, it looks perfect; sweetie.
"Crap, this s**t is wack, yo." ...Uhm...You're art is great, if thats what you're referring to.
I looked down at my own. I really messed up big time. It was our first exersize for the year in art. Basically put, it was for our art teacher to see what kind of stuff we had to work on.
In my case; alot.
I felt myself hovering over my own little piece of art, determind to let no one see it. I found myself thinking of why in the world I was taking this class. I found that half of these people were already accepted into colleges, obviously astounded by their creations.
As for me? I haven't thought about anything ecept finishing a collaborative comic me and a friend are doing.
I found myself with my head planted on my 'piece of s**t' as I had titled it in my mind.
"Are you ok?"
It was a girl at my table. She was superior in manga making, and was already accepted into a good college. After this year, she'd be heading out and making a living with her drawings.
I'd still be stuck in high school. A senior.
"...No, not really." I said, honestly. I felt myself blush, realizing I had said that aloud. "Uhm; sorry, I just..." I trailed off, finding myself playing with a strand of my chesnut brown hair.
"Just what?" The girl asked. I blinked, and shook my head.
"Ah, don't worry about it."
"No really, tell me." She was starting to get on my nerves. I sucked in my bottom lip, nibbling thoughfully at the flesh. I finally stopped once I could taste blood.
"I just feel out of place in here, I don't do fancy art. I draw cartoons, for crap's sake!" I murmured, loud enough so that only she could hear it.
"...I like it."
"Wha?"
"Your art style. I like it. Alot. Its not like what you normally see, its snappy."
I stared at her. "...Snappy?" I questioned, finding my eyebrows raising slightly. She twirled her graphite pencil in her hand throughtfully. "Yeah, its got a different taste to it. Its like...Different. But in a good way." She shrugged, and went back to creating her art. I stared hard at my own work.
"How can you say that when you have such great work of your own? Mine looks like a rusty old penny compared to your shiny nickel."
She gave a weird look to me. "Did you just refrence your art to money?" She started to chuckle.
And to my suprise, so did I. "I-I guess I did!" She then started to laugh harder, as did I.
Sure, we got stares. Glares, even. But the funny thing is? I forgot that my drawing was very weird and out there, and even forgot that it might've been flaw-filled.
I had made a new friend.
A friend who didn't seem to mind me.
And thats all that mattered.