"See you later, mom!" Ryan Hayman yells as he rushes out the front door to his car. Auburn

strands of hair whip past his face as he runs and his bright blue eyes blink in the sudden light of dawn.

Keys are hurriedly stuffed into the ignition and he's off to school, speeding like a maniac down Maple

Street.

Ryan quickly finds a parking spot, turns off his car, and sprints toward Heartbrooke High. There

are barely any students left in the hallways, so instead of stopping by his locker, he veers down the west

wing towards his first hour class. Just as the tardy bell rings, he steps through the door.

"Sorry I'm late!" He says, heaving for breath. The teacher looks up from his position at the front

of the room and chuckles.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, what am I going to do with you? It's the first day and already you're causing

me grief."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dennis!" Ryan is smiling despite himself. "My alarm clock didn't go off."

"Yeah, sure it didn't." Mr. Dennis grinned. "Anyways, let's get started. Students, this is Ryan

Hayman. He will be joining the class from now on, if he isn't late all the time. Ryan, meet the posse."

The "posse" is a meager eight students, ranging from freshman to junior, none looking to happy to

see him. A girl in the corner didn't even bother to look up; she just continued to doodle on a piece of

notebook paper. Her outfit looked a little too dark and heavy for the mild fall day, Ryan noted, but she was

beautiful all the same.

"Right now we're studying heavy lit, Ryan." Mr. Dennis says. "Why don't you pull up a desk?"

"What's heavy lit?" Ryan asks, "Shakespeare?"

"Nope, we study Shakespeare in the spring. Right now I just read jokes to you."

"Jokes?" His face was skeptical. Mr. Dennis smirked.

"Smart people jokes. Now go find a seat."

Ryan shrugs. This is what the gifted class usually does, so he hears. He walks to the corner of the

room and stuffs his bag underneath the desk next to dark-clothes girl.

"Hi," he extends a hand towards her, "What's your name?"

The girl glances at him, frowning. "What?"

"I asked what your name is," He says. "If you don't mind my asking."

"It's Hannah." She whispers, looking down. She doesn't shake his hand.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Hannah." Ryan drops his outstretched fingers, "Is it alright if I

sit here?"

She nods, keeping her gaze averted. Ryan thought he saw a hint of a bruise around her left temple,

but a strand of curly, brown hair quickly covered it up so he wasn't sure. Confused, he sits down.

What's up with her? Is she okay? He wonders, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She

gently rubs her head and winces. Ryan can see bruises on her wrist where her sleeve fall down.

So she is hurt. I wonder what happened.

As if sensing his gaze on her, Hannah quickly pulls her shirt back up to cover her arm. Her eyes

meet his, pleading with him not to say a word. He is nearly bowled over by their intensity. They are

shining, bright green with flecks of blue and gold, surrounded by an inky iris. Tears start to gather beneath

her thick lashes.

Ryan raises his hands in a calming gesture and turns back around to face Mr. Dennis. Some of the

students were looking at him weird but he paid them no mind. Hannah's body stayed rigid until the bell

rang.

"See you guys in five," Mr. Dennis says. The gifted class goes three straight hours in the morning,

studying geography, literature, and trig. Some kids have to leave during third hour because they stink at

math.

Mr. Dennis stands up, his white mustache bristling as he mumbles, "hmm, I think I'm going to go

get some Oreos." The people around him laugh and ask if he'd spare a couple. Their conversation dies as

the door closes behind them. Ryan and Hannah are alone now.

Her entire body radiates discomfort. She's leaning away from him, like he's a poisonous spider.

"I'm sorry." Ryan offers, feeling slightly guilty. How was he supposed to know that she was that

sensitive?

Silence.

"Listen, I really didn't mean to-"

"It's fine!" Hannah whirls around to face him. "Just drop it, okay?"

"Alright! Jeesh!" He throws his hands up in the air. "You don't have to explode."

She immediately looks ashamed. "I'm sorry."

Ryan groans and bangs his head on the desk. "I'm not going to ask you about what happened, but

I am going to ask you if you're okay. So," He looks up at her, "Are you okay?"

She nods, a smile pulling at her lips. Its not until she coughs that Ryan realizes that he's been

ogling. Glancing down, she picks up her drawing and starts to put it away.

"Hey, wait, can I see it?"

Hannah looks surprised. Her eyes move from her paper to him rapidly, trying to make a decision.

"You really want to see it?" She asks. "It's not exactly my best."

"Please?" The paper is reluctantly handed over. Her cheeks and ears are a rosy shade of red.

What Ryan sees is absolutely amazing. There is a giant cliff, with dark storm cloud as a backdrop,

over a field with waving grass. Little notes are added to the sides, like, "Yellow ochre here," and "Add

more movement!" It's perfect.

"Is it finished?" He asks, squinting at the paper.

"No, there's still a little bit more to add." She says quietly. "I think I'm going to add a person."

"Ooh, where?"

"RightÖ." A delicate finger points to the very tip of the cliff. "Here."

"That's a good spot, but you know what I would do to the clouds if I added something there?"

She looks surprised. "What's that?"

"I'd get rid of that big honking cloud that covers the sky and add a bit more light to the picture

around the edges, because you want the focus to go to the person, right?"

She nods. "How do you know this stuff? Do you draw or something?"

Ryan smiles crookedly. "The only thing I can draw with is charcoal. I can't paint to save my

life."

"Oh, really? That's too bad." It seems like Hannah is shedding her cocoon and finally emerging.

"Do you have any drawings with you?"

"No, but I'll bring some tomorrow. Remind me, will you?"

Students have started to filter back into the classroom, stopping to stare when they see Hannah

conversing with Ryan. Even Mr. Dennis, with one Oreo sticking out of his mustache, looks surprised.

"We're going to the...library today, guys." He says, "Go ahead and...Stop by your lockers on the

way there.

Chapter Three

Hannah

"So, what other classes are you taking other than gifted?" Ryan asks me as we walk towards the

library.

"Fourth hour I have science, then art, and after that I have French and Strings. I also teach piano

lessons after school on Tuesdays and Wednesdays." I say, averting my gaze from his face. His eyes are

just too deep for me.

"Wow, that's cool. I think we might have a couple more classes together now because they

changed my schedule all around when I switched. Do you have Gizler for art?"

"Yes. Do you have him fifth hour."

He nods. "I used to have Mrs. Mia, she was pretty nice. Does Mr. Gizler really get cranky a lot?

That's what I've heard."

I have to try hard not to crack up. "He gets cranky whenever people get really clingy and ask him

a lot of questions. If you want him to like you, make sure you draw a lot in your free time and act smart

when he talks to you about art supplies. He's really a fun guy once you get past the cranky-ness."

Ryan chuckles as he opens the library door for me. I head toward the farthest table in the corner of

the room, with him right on my heels. People are starting to stare again. Some are even craning their heads

all the way around just to get a glimpse.

I sit down, rather self-consciously, and he sits in the chair opposite me.

"Are they always this interested in you?" He whispers, referring to the eave-droppers scattered

about the room. "It's kind of freaking me out."

I giggle, <(yes giggle), behind my hand. "No. I think it's just because you're talking to me."

"HmmÖthat's weird. I'm not that exciting. They must have fallen victim to my god-like

intelligence and good looks." Ryan puffs on his fingernails and rubs them on his shoulder.

"Sure they didÖ" I roll my eyes and get out a book to read. "You might want to get to work.

The librarian is pretty strict about the silence thing."

Ryan shrugs half-heartedly, reaching into his bag. I stop paying attention when he plunks his

notebook on the table, looking as if he has a mission. Students have finally stopped watching us and I feel

the burn leave my cheeks. Settling in for a long second hour, I engross myself in my book.

The sound of ripping paper tears me out of my trance. "Psst!"

I look over to see Ryan hissing out of the corner of his mouth. A folded piece of brightly

decorated notebook paper is passed over. It has "Miss Hannah" written in curvy bubble letters all over the

front. I sigh and pick it up.

When I finally get it unfolded, the end of a Bic mechanical pencil falls onto the table in front of

me. I give Ryan a look and he shrugs, that crooked smile back on his face. "Read it." He mouths.

I roll my eyes for the second time and start reading.

Hannah,

You said you wanted to see some of my drawings, right? I'll try

and bring my portfolio tomorrow, but I have an awful lot of stuff.

What about you? I want to see some of your finished paintingsÖCan

I come over to your house to see them? Or can you bring some to school

tomorrow?

-Dr. R-

P.S. Gizler doesn't feed on small children, does he?

My blood runs cold when I read, "Can I come over to your house?" The only thing I store at

uncle's house is canvases, brushes, and paint; all underneath loose floorboards. Along with everything else

I treasure. I keep my paintings in the storage room in the art room.

Ryan hands me his pencil. Our hands brush against each other for just a moment and I swear there

is an electric current there, but I immediately dismiss it.

Dr. R,

That is a really, really retarded name, by the way.

I don't keep my paintings at home; they are all in the art

closet. I can show them to you today if you want.

-The Incredible H-

P.S. Mr. Gizler doesn't eat small children, just teenage

guys named Ryan.

He bursts out laughing when he reads the note. Leaning towards me he whispers, "What's a good

name to choose when I go into the witness protection program?"

Just then the bell rings and our little bonding session is ended. We walk down the hall together,

attracting even more curious glances than before. Mr. Dennis walks by with another Oreo in his mouth, not

so subtly trying to eavesdrop in our conversation.

"So, are you any good at math?" Ryan asks me. "I guess you would have to be to be in gifted

math, huh?

"It's not exactly my favorite subject in the world." I reply, "I like words better than numbers."

He smiles and nods his agreement. "Words are awesome."

As we take our seats in the classroom, chatting all the while, I find myself thinking that this could

be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Ryan stays with me after school and watches me paint in the studio, an activity that I can

participate in until five o'clock when they lock down the school for the night. He doesn't talk, just

observes, occasionally handing me more water or brushes whenever I need them. Eventually he even roots

about in the supply closet and finds some charcoal and sketch paper.

"Are you going to draw?" I ask him, gently laying my brush on a piece of paper towel. My hair is

up in a sloppy bun to keep it of my eyes and it must look horrible.

"Yeah," Ryan grins. "Hold still."

"Oh no," I say, throwing my hands up into the air. "You are not going to draw me."

He starts pouting. "Awe, c'mon. It's not like I'm going to go around showing everyone what you

look like with paint all over your face. Please?"

I self-consciously wipe my sleeve on my nose. "You know what? You're pretty lucky that I'm

such a nice person. I'll ignore that little comment and pretend that you asked very politely to use me as a

model."

He laughs, blue eyes twinkling. "You can go back to painting now. You look really pretty when

you do."

I blush as I pick my brush up and start dabbing at the canvas again. Hopefully Ryan can't see my

embarrassment as I do. The scratching of graphite on paper is the only sound in the room, aside from the

kiln in the corner. The smell of oil paints pervades my senses, the mildly-sweet scent intoxicating. A

janitor, named Stew I believe, passes by the glass doorway, waving jovially. I wave politely back.

"How often do you stay after school?" Ryan asks me, "Seems like everyone is pretty used to

having you around."

"Yeah, I stay quite a lot." Is all I offer for an explanation. What else am I supposed to say? I stay

almost every day because I'm too scared to go home? No thank you.

"That's cool."

It falls silent again, comfortably so. I'm glad Ryan didn't press me for answers, because that most

certainly would have led to disaster. I think he has a little understanding of me now.

Hours pass quietly, the ticking of a clock the only sign that time is passing us by. I feel my heart

wrench painfully as I realize that it's almost time to go. Gathering up my paints, I glance back at Ryan. He

meets my gaze and stretches. His fingers are black from the charcoal which has been worn down into tiny

stubs from such liberal use.

"Did you finish it?" I ask him, throwing a cloth over my painting. He grins mischievously.

"The question is," Ryan leisurely leans back in his chair, "did I finish them."

My mouth hangs open as he hands me at least seven sketches of me. They range from very dark to

very light; from simple to incredibly complex. I think to myself that I look beautiful in every single one.

My hand goes to my heart as I look incredulously at Ryan. He merely shrugs.

"They're incredible." I breathe. "Is that what I really look like?"

He chuckles. "Yup, that's what you really look like. Not too shabby, eh?"

"Not too shabby?" I echo. "I look..."

"Amazing?"

"Yeah..."

Ryan can't get over how astonished I am. He's nearly choking with laughter. "I drew three of

them for you."

"Really?" I ask, my excitement barely contained. "Which ones?"

"Anyone you want, except-" He plucks one from my hand. "this one."

The one he picked was the very last one I would have chosen, so I didn't mind. I decide on two of

the lighter, simpler ones and another darker sketch.

"Wow, thank you so much." I beam at him and he smiles back.

"No problem, I hope you like it."

"I love it!"