The Way I Am - January 9, 2011

Michael was looking at me through the little window on the door to the art room: my favorite class. He used to be shorter, he used to have to jump to grab my attention through the window. I love the transfer from seventh grade to eight grade when all the boys lose their squeaky voices and grow a little more into their jeans and look more like men. I used to be taller than Michael in the first through fifth grade and he's even older than me. He's grown into his ears. Finally. He still has that little speck of hair sticking up from his head, I love it, he looks like Alfalfa with his hair less greasy. Somedays he has to walk home with me from school because my mom can't pick me up. Work. So, we worked it out, he has to stay after school for band and I have to stay after school for art club, it was a perfect plan, but he always got done a little earlier. So it always comes down to this, him waiting for me through the window, staring at me impatiently. Kasey said goodbye and I knew it was time to go, "Bye, Ms. Campbell." I said in the littlest, mousy voice you would ever hear, I don't know what it is, it's like I'm in the zone as soon as I get into the school building, I'm naturally a quiet, suffer-in-silence type...at school. "Bye, Sara." "Finally", Michael said. "Oh come on, you only had to wait for five minutes, you're so impatient." He just replied by laughing.

We walked home telling each other what our plans were for the weekend and how funny Mr. Foster was in band practice today. "What's that big tube for anyway?" He asked. I was doing a watercolor painting but I had to draw it first, so Ms. Campbell let me roll it into a big tube and I've been carrying it around for about a month now. I hate painting, I want to keep it the way it is, just drawn or I would ruin it. I was a terrible painter. Of course, Ms. Campbell always tried to convince me otherwise but I knew what I was bad at and that is gym class, dancing, painting, and so on...etc., etc. So, I kept erasing certaint parts that I could easily re-draw, so I would take too much time on the drawing and I wouldn't have to paint it, when she would ask me how I was doing, I would just hurry up and erase a little spot and she would say "Almost there." "It's to put my drawing in there." I answered him. "You've been carrying it around for forever now, you're usually quicker at it." He said. Then, I explained the whole erasing-a-little-spot-and-drawing-it-over-again-so-I-don't-have-to-paint routine. "Well, can I see it?" He asked. "Sure, but it's not very good." I said. "Shut up, you're an awesome artist and you know it." I pulled it out and showed him. He looked at it and claimed that it was really, really, really good, with yes, not one, not two, but three reallys'. "Thanks."

"Is that my sister?" Ruby asked. "Yes, it's your sister." She came into the kitchen with her ponytail bouncing, pants falling down. My sister was a mess, there was always something that wasn't right. Either her pants were down or her shirt was inside out, mismatched socks, zipper would be down. Ruby and I were gonna go to the goodwill with my mom, we practically go there every week.
We always sit on the bench outside of the goodwill, waiting another hour for my mom to come out. We would talk about anyhting and everything, about who's going to get pregnant at sixteen in our class, or about some guy claiming that he likes Ruby.

-Lacie Solt