A/n: the italic'd part used to be an old story of mine called "drawn" I got rid of it when I saw how it wasn't doing to well. Bleh. Anyways, this was my entry that I was suppose to enter in the Push novel contest. But somehow with all the things going on in my life..I wasn't able to finish it. It's alright. I'll just submit it here. And im continuing it b/c it has personal meaning to me. R/r. please.

Chapter One

She draws the same girl with the sad face every single day. She doodles them on he corners of her notebooks, the pages of her textbooks, her hands, on napkins, desks, and walls –anything. She draws the same picture of a girl and then outlines it over and over with a dry ink pen till it runs through the material. A picture of a girl looking lonely, sad, and depressed at the same time. A picture that never changes, just the hairstyle –every now and then. But the sad, hypnotic face still remains. Calling to you as though it were a dead flower in a bouquet of fresh roses. Calling to you, if it were drawn on a little scrap of paper, to pick it up. Because no one can resist leaving it lying on the floor with a shoe mark stamped to it. No one.

She has a lot of friends. A lot of them. Yet, she keeps to herself most of the time –just minding her own business. Drawing. Almost anyone can point her out because her red highlights stick out in the sea of hair colors. It's not just red. It's the type of red that catches your attention till it's gone. And when the color fades from the back of your head, it burns a mark as remembrance. Because just like her drawings –you can't resist to forget it. It's there. Like the picture of that girl. Outlined over and over again. She calls do you. She draws the attention to herself. Not wanting to be noticed. But wanting to be found in the sea of masses.

"Do you think of me?"


"Don't make me say it again"

"I do, Kevin. Of course I do, you're my best friend"
"Not that way" he sighs then plays with his tongue ring. Sliding it along the bottom cleft of his teeth. His black hair has grown longer and the part of his head where he parts his hair so that it goes over his eye totally covers his eye now.

He is vaguely different that the picture of the 12-year-old boy I have that is lying in some dusty photo album in my room. The Kevin I used to know had brown hair and didn't pierce his tongue or lip or even his eyebrow. The 12-year-old Kevin I knew loved power rangers and played karate out in my front lawn. Not tattoo himself or mutilate himself by cutting broken hearts on his wrists. This 18-year-old Kevin scares me. No really, he does.
We've been best friends since I can remember. Our story was, that I had been the new girl on the block. I had just moved in from Carson, California and I didn't know a single soul on my block. My mom had met Kevin's mother while shopping at a grocery store in town. He had been 12 at that time and I was 11 and a half. The following years after that, was history. Me and him were inseparable.

But since we've entered high school our interest diverged. Kevin had grown into heavy metal, punk rock, body piercing, and even tattoos. I on the other hand became a girl –no longer interested in the days of watching Kevin do black flips in front of my yard. But rather interested in the people watching me do back flips at a foot ball game. I was in at the mercy of make-ups, clothes, and my hair and how my face looked –but no matter how much time we spent apart or how different we have come to be, nothing stopped Kevin from coming over to my house to help me blow out the candles on my birthday cake.
"So, how do you want me to think of you?"

I hear him shrug by the rustle of his clothes, but I'm too immersed in my drawing to notice his action. I can feel his gaze on my as I draw. But I take on notice of him. This is normal for the both of us.

"You draw good, you know"
I shake my head "and you're a good liar too"
"Fine, don't believe me. But your good enough to get into an art school –you know. Become a painter –an artist"
I sigh. Folding my drawing into a neat square "Not in this life time, Kevin. You know I've bugged my mom about me going to an art school after college"
"And so? What did she say?"
I shrugged "She didn't like the idea of me being a starving artist. She said being a painter, or someone who draws for a living isn't going to bring food to the table." I throw my folded drawing to the floor "I'm better of becoming a doctor or a lawyer"
I watch as Kevin picks up my drawing from the floor. He runs his hand through the part of his hair that covers his eyes "Impossible. You can't stand the sight of blood and you can't argue if your life depended on it" He unfolds my drawing and then sets it on his leg "You are an artist. Not a lawyer. Not some snobby rich stitching doctor. You draw because it is who you are. It is you"
He hands me back my drawing and I refuse it "Have it" I tell him "It does nothing for me but to collect dust in the bottom of my desk"
Kevin folds it back into place and stuffs it into the pockets of his black Dickies pants. "What about you?" I ask him "What do you want to be after high school?"

He shrugs his shoulders "I dunno. I don't see myself as a go to college guy" He toys with his lip piercing and says "I'll just take off, maybe find a job somewhere. Anywhere. Just not here"
It was silent. At least he had an idea. Dejectingly, I rose to my feet and dusted my pants off from the grime of sitting on the steps.
"I gotta go" I tell him "I have cheerleading practice and I still need to get home to get my things"

He stood up too and I watch as he stretches and yawns. He's taller than me now. Before there was a time when I could see the top of his head and laugh. Now, he could see over me if he wanted to. And this he could do without tiptoeing.
"I'll drop you home" he offers "Your on the way to a band practice"
I don't say anything. The silence answers for me. Kevin walks ahead of me and I try relentless to match my steps to his gigantic strides.
Since when did you grow up Kevin?
Since when did you get so far ahead?
Kevin turns around to check on me. He mentions how I'm such a slow walker and jokes about that one upon a time when we were young event. He laughs. And then I laugh.
Those were the times.
And those times feel so long ago.
What happened to them, Kevin?

I climb into the car as he sets my things into the back of his car. School's been over ever since, so no one can spot me getting into his car. It wouldn't matter right? I wouldn't care what anyone would say. Kevin is my best friend. Regardless if we live different lives.
I'm quiet during the drive to my house. I don't say anything because I know there's nothing to say. I watch the trees and the houses and the people and the cars.
One house.
Two house.

Three trees.
Four people.
Blue car.

Red car. And the list goes on.

Kevin puts his hand on my knee as he stops at a red light.
"You ok?" He asks looking at me. I nod.
"Yea" I tell him "Everything's peachy. You?"


He drives on again and before I know it. We stop right in front of my house. Before getting out, Kevin looks at me.
"Don't worry to much about it. Everything will turn up alright." I smile "And, maybe you'd want to stop the cheering."

I look at him "and why?"
He smiled "Because no matter how many times you can practice –I'm still good at the back flips and you know it"

well? Good? R/r.