Jeremy Baker walked down the well-known route to detention, the long corridor. “No one calls me Jeremy” he thought angrily, “it’s always that idiot, bully, stupid”.
The dreary faded grey color of the lockers made a ghastly combination with the whitewashed wall. Banners of a range of school activities, decorated the corridors ceilings. They were, however, far from growing fainter. Some attractive, others unappealing, but all splashed in colors and arrays of creativity. Each banner illustrated the creator’s mind. Bright colorful pictures reminded him of exuberant memories, memories of him indulged in paintings. Dark colors took him back to his awful life, immediately striking wretched emotions. The tiles, black and white, and with too many different color, left by students as their mark formed interesting patterns. The golden light of the sun refracted through the window danced on the tiles, creating shadows of the various items in the corridor. He walked towards the large glass window, squinting his eyes towards the sky, mesmerized by the variety of shades of blue God must have used to paint it, and how perfectly the white fluffy clouds contrasted the sky to give it a simplicity look. On the other hand, the fiery red of the sun, gleaming to its might, looked invincible. The sky was contradictory, just like him.
“Why do I have to look at the world in colors? Why can’t I just be good at studies and make my damned family proud?” Jeremy thought miserably.
“But art, colors, drawing are the only thing in life that makes my worth living. I can’t give that up. I won’t give that.”
He suddenly heard footsteps behind him. Surprised, he turned back to see what was going on.
“Oh, it’s Oscar, that nerd. Seeing him makes me imagine serpents and monsters and black. Hate that Get-it-all.”
Unable to control the temperamental outbursts, he walked up to Oscar. Oscar looked up at Jeremy, frightened. Jeremy could give a rat’s face care to what Oscar was thinking. He hated Oscar for being excellent in academics. He hated Oscar for having the quality that he so desperately needed. He saw his failure reflected in bold colors in Oscar. He saw jagged lines of red and black, indicating hatred, anger, jealousy when he saw Oscar.
He shoved Oscar hard, and he fell to the ground. Oscar screamed for help. In Oscar’s miserable voice, he saw victory, triumph painted in the picture of a majestic lion.
He knew the consequences of his action, but he was hardly bothered. Getting detention was all too a familiar experience. He was still rejoicing his majestic lion image. In fact, he looked forward to detention. Leaving Oscar behind on the floor, he reached his destination, a room with ugly written words ‘DETENTION’.
He opened the door and entered.
“Finally, I’m alone. I can paint. I can draw. I can imagine. Freely.”
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