Sketch Me Like One of Your English Girls (Part Two)
It’s one thing when someone close notices you, the clothes you’re wearing, the hairstyle on a particular day, or even a pimple planted on the tip of your nose. It’s another thing when that person keeping visual tabs on you is a stranger whom you’ve never uttered a peep to. Until now.
He didn’t run far and that was by choice. As I exited the library, I peered around the corner to find him nooked under the water fountain, except he didn’t have those gawky glasses positioned on the bump of his nose. Instead, he held the end of one side of the glasses, spinning about his index finger over and over like the London Eye. He didn’t bolt or even attempt to bolt when he saw me nearing his temporary safe haven. He just stayed and continued to twirl his specs.
I plopped down next to him and sat in silence for several moments. As soon as I felt my adrenaline slowing down enough to speak, I asked him, “So, what’s your name?” Obviously, I knew from the notebook, but I wanted to hear it from him. However, that seemed to have been a lost cause because he didn’t say anything. Naturally, I got frustrated.
“Oh, so you’re still not going to say anything? Not even to an easy question like ‘What is your name?’ A question that I already know the answer to anyway; you still won’t talk to me? Why me? I don’t even know you. I’m not a loud or outgoing person at this school. I do my best to keep to myself. So why-”
With his head down and voice raised, he said, “Who do you think you are? Alex Trebek? I’m sick of all of the questions.”
“Well actually… he asks answers,” I said with a slight shrug and tight-lipped smile. He still didn’t look at me.
I repositioned my body crisscrossed in front of him. He looked up at me for a second but dropped his head back down as if it carried the weight of a wrecking ball.
“I don’t know. Ok?” His tone and attitude softened. “Something about you is just enchanting. It started out as sketching my surroundings. I sat a few rows behind you in world geography class, hence the lack of facial features in my early sketches. But, I don’t know. It evolved into more. I created fictitious stories about a life I will probably never know. Some idiotic cut on your arm was probably a minor faux pas but I made it into a majestic adventure that left a small passport stamp. It’s stupid, I know.”
I smirked. “What type of majestic adventures was I embarking on?”
“I don’t know. Secret worlds kept behind clandestine walls of mundane buildings. Magical powers and fingers that erupt thunder when they snap together.” His mind erected a kingdom visible to the ears he told it to.
I wondered if I was jumping off of the deep end by entertaining his obsession. But I figured it might be a fun ride. I tilted his chin up, looked him dead in the eyes, and said, “Well, let’s go.”
Strike Out,
Writer: Mary Rufo
Editor: Tabitha Labrato
Videographer Alexis Poulos
Director Jonathan Santos
Creative on Site Caroline Dejtiar
Photographer Lalo Ambris
Beauty Abby Wright
Models Beza Alford, Dante Barreto, Jennifer O’Grady, Mia Pemuy
Tallahassee