Sarah Kay Carter
The Art of Life
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writers imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental
The Art of Life © 2012 by Sarah Kay Carter. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of Sarah Kay Carter.
FIRST EDITION
Cover Design by:
Anmar Nevarez
[email protected]
This book is dedicated to three people.
To my love and best friend, Steven,
I wouldn’t have started writing again without him.
To my ultimate number one fan, Heather,
Your enthusiasm has always pushed me to write.
To Kidd, you are my brain stormer
and crazy writing sidekick.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 1
I throw open my locker and shove my books onto the top shelf. My gaze falls upon the mirror that my mom purchased for me. Yeah, nice present mom, I hate looking at myself. My hair is unruly, curly, and mousy brown and my eyes a dull blue. I am not attractive in the slightest. My mom says, ‘You’re beautiful’, I say, she’s full of it. She might be right but I have no self esteem, zero, zip. I slam my locker door, and growl with frustration.
It’s then that I see the face behind my locker. Eric’s eyes look at me blankly. As his eyebrow raises, my face turns beat red. Great, absolutely great, so this is how my day is going to go. “Hey,” I mumble.
Eric just shakes his head and opens his locker. Wow, he is ignoring me. There is a surprise! I just sigh and walk away. My next class is Art. Probably the one thing I am good at. I take my usual seat in the corner, away from everyone. I wish this day would end, just like every other day of high school. I stare out the window, as I wait for the bell to ring.
When a chorus of bubbly voices enters the room, my stomach turns. Awesome, they are here. My eyes turn to the girls who make my life a living hell. Jessica, the blonde cheerleader is the atypical pretty girl; Daniella, is the shorter one with the black bob; but the ring leader is Sonya. She is the pristine, perfect brunette. I think she has had work done. Her daddy sure gives her everything she wants, so it wouldn’t surprise me.
Of course, they take the seats on the opposite aisle of me. Shoot me now, please. As, Sonya sits down, her predatory eyes stare directly at me. I choose to ignore her. “My, my, my, Isabelle,” she laughs, “Aren’t we…..pretty….unique today. What a nice outfit.”
My mind instantly drifts to what I am wearing. Okay, yes, I have absolutely no fashion sense, and Sonya makes sure I know it nearly every day. I have on blue capris and a purple striped shirt. Now, thinking about it, I don’t match at all. It’s another epic fail on my part, but alas, it is one of many. I take out my sketch pad and continue to ignore Sonya.
“Look Sonya, she is doodling again,” Daniella laughs. “Drawing up her dream guy.”
“Do you mean Eric?” Sonya asks snidely. The pencil that I just picked up snaps in my hand. “Ooo, I seem to have struck a nerve.” She leans over. “It’s okay, we all know about your crush. I promise I won’t tell.”
After all this time, you would think it wouldn’t bother me anymore, but it still does. My chest tightens and I have to look away. The girls just laugh. Suddenly, the bell rings and I take a deep breath. The teacher starts talking up front and which means the attention is taken away from me, for now.
I find a reprieve when I can draw. Yeah, I won’t lie; I have sketched Eric a million times, but NEVER in school. I am not that stupid. Today, we are supposed to draw one of those wooden figures they set up on your desk. This is easy and takes me no time, so when I am done, I take out my own sketch book. I love charcoal pencils. They are the best things to draw with. Much of the time I let my imagination take me away, but today, well, today, I am a little vindictive. I sketch a guillotine, with Sonya’s head in it. I never said I was super mature.
At least it’s my senior year and soon I won’t have to deal with this place anymore. When the bell rings to end the day, I snatch up my stuff and nearly run out of the room. Good thing I don’t need to stop at my locker today. I don’t think I could take seeing Eric, again. Who knows what Sonya has said to him? Maybe, I will forget about all this tomorrow, probably not, but here’s to hoping.
Our high school is pretty big, so I get lost in the crowd leaving school. Unlike everyone else at my age, I don’t have a driver’s license, could be, because my mom doesn’t give a rip about me. She is a functioning alcoholic. Mom has a great job, but drinks like a fish. Most of the time, I am happier when she isn’t home. I turn down a street that nobody else ever takes. This way, I don’t run into anybody.
I really wish I were different, but I have had no help at home. I don’t think my mom ever wanted kids. To say I was an accident is an understatement. My mom has never told me who my dad is. There is no name on my birth certificate, so I have no idea. Maybe, she doesn’t know. That wouldn’t surprise me.
I look at my watch. Hmm, mom will be home soon, and I don’t particularly want to deal with her today. To the coffee shop I go. When I get there, the girl behind the counter smiles, “Hey, Isabelle, the usual today?”
“Yeah, thanks Merrisa,” I reply. She turns and makes me my drink. I take cash out of my pocket. That’s one thing my mom always gives me, money. Hey, it lets me get coffee and escape for a few hours. I scuff my sneaker against the floor, as I wait. Finally, she sets my latte down. “Thanks,” I say, as I pay her and leave a great tip. I like Merrisa. She talks to me like a human being.
It’s nice out today, and I think I will sit outside. The sun feels good against my skin. I like warm weather. I would not do well in Alaska. I take my headphones out and put them in my ears, turning my music up rather loud. My sketch pad makes it on the table, and I go to work. I am trying to work on landscapes more. Faces and people are my strengths, so I am trying to broaden my horizons.
As I set down my empty coffee, I sigh. I want another one. Taking my ear buds out, I press stop. It’s then that I notice the shadow pass over the table. I look up and my heart drops. What in the hell, can I not catch a break? “What do you want?” I groan.
Sonya shifts her weight onto her other leg. “We want this table.”
My attention turns to the area around me. “There are five other open tables.”
“Yeah, but we want this one,” she replies.
“What is your problem?” I snap. “Can’t you just leave me alone?
”
Laughing like a witch, Sonya says, “Why would we? You are such an easy, fun target. Look at you. You’re ridiculous.”
Can I just die? One of these days, please? “Thanks, go sit somewhere else.”
She leans forward onto the table. “Move your pathetic ass.”
“We were actually just leaving,” a voice says.
Everyone’s gaze moves to the figure that slides into the seat next to me. Umm, hello. Who in the world are you?
The girl’s eyes widen, as do mine. There is an amazingly hot guy sitting next to me. He gives this glowing smile to Sonya. “I keep asking her to let me take her for the ride of her life, and she has finally given in and said, yes.” Huh? I think my mouth is actually open. His chocolate brown eyes turn to me. “Right honey?”
“What?” I whisper.
“You have to be joking,” Sonya sneers.
Getting an even bigger grin, he says, “Oh, I never joke about my motorcycle.” Motorcycle? My eyes, along with the girls’, turn to the street. There is a black bike leaning on its kick stand. It’s gorgeous. I shake my head in a dumb stupor. I turn back to the guy next to me. The look on my face has to be priceless. He picks up his helmet and thrusts it out for me. “I demand that you wear this though.”
Unable to control my own impulse, I watch as my hand reaches out and takes it. “Okay,” is the only response I can muster up.
“This….this is your girlfriend?” Sonya stutters.
“How rude of me,” the guy stands up and extends his hand. “My name is Jeremy.”
Sonya takes it hesitantly and shakes it. “Hi.”
Then Jeremy turns back to me. “Pack up your things so we can go.” I just sit and stare at him. He gives me an urging look. I don’t know why, but I start to put my stuff in my backpack.
Suddenly, someone else walks up. Crap, it’s Eric. He saunters up and looks at Jeremy, and then me. “Hey,” he says slowly. Turning to Sonya, he goes, “What’s going on?”
“This is Jeremy. Supposedly, he is this freak’s boyfriend,” she replies, pointing to me.
“Hey,” I snap. “I have a name, it’s Isabelle, and you damn well know it!”
Putting up his hands, Jeremy exclaims, “Hold on! I am technically not her boyfriend.”
This is just great. I have no idea who this guy is, but he just made my life worse. “No, you’re not,” I emphasize. Please, make this end.
“I keep asking her out, over and over again and she keeps denying me, but I believe my persistence will work out soon; exactly why I am going to give her the…ride…of her life.” He grabs my hand and says, “Let’s go. I have plans for us.”
Not sure what to do, I whisper, “Okay.” When I look up, my heart swells. Everyone has shocked looks on their face. This guy is beyond gorgeous and he is putting on a show to help me. I can’t help but smile. Sweet, sweet, vindication. I will live this up, until it is over. If it doesn’t blow up in my face in a second, it turns out to be some horrible practical joke.
“Come on Izzy,” Jeremy says, giving a flawless, white teeth smile. “I want to take you for a ride.” He raises his eyebrows up and down. That just makes me laugh, and it takes a lot to make me laugh. He turns back to my tormentors. “You can have the table now. Let’s go toots.” Jeremy starts to pull me to the street. I follow hesitantly.
When we get to the motorcycle, he climbs on. Turning to me, he smiles. “Aren’t you coming?”
Leaning over, I whisper, “Are you going to kill me?”
He starts laughing, and replies, “I wouldn’t leave so many witnesses. Come on, just get on the bike.” What am I doing? I put on the bike helmet and swing the backpack on. Jeremy pats the seat behind him. I get on and just sit there. He grabs my hands and puts them around him. Grinning, he asks, “Do you want to wave to your friends?”
“Can I just flick them off?” I retort.
“Sure,” Jeremy says, turning and giving them the finger. I grab his hand, shoving it back down. I feel his body shake with laughter. He starts the bike and revs the engine.
My head turns and looks over at Sonya. She has her arms crossed, with her eyes glaring at me. Oh boy, I am going to get it tomorrow. At least this will make me smile for tonight. Suddenly, the bike jumps forward and we take off. I hold on tight. This is crazy. I am going to die. He is going to do something horrible to me, hide my body in a trunk and push it into a lake. Was this worth it? Totally, the look on her face is payment enough.
We drive through the streets to downtown. When we get to a red light, I lean forward, “You can drop me off now anytime.”
Turning his head around, Jeremy smiles, “We are going to go have a drink.”
“I am only 18,” I shout, as we take off again.
He shrugs. We drive to a park and he pulls into a spot. I am quick to jump off, and back up. “Who are you?” I ask.
“My name is Jeremy, Jeremy Stoll to be exact, and your name is Isabelle, as I heard you yell at those people.”
I can feel my cheeks flush. “Yeah, sorry about that. That was Sonya. She kind of treats me like….”
“Garbage,” Jeremy finishes for me.
Nodding, I sigh, “Yes. Thanks for what you did. I have no idea why you did it, but thanks.” I take off the helmet and hand it to him. “Here.”
He takes it and sets it in front of himself. “What is their problem with you?”
“Did you see them?”
“Sure,” he replies.
Clicking my tongue, I say, “Look at them and then look at me. I am a very easy target.”
“Why do you say that?”
Now, I roll my eyes. “I am a dork if you haven’t seen that already. I can’t dress. I look crazy. I don’t have many friends, if any. I am just a dork.”
Jeremy frowns. “I don’t see a dork.”
“That is so kind of you,” I reply, slightly annoyed. “Why did you do what you did anyway?”
“You reminded me of someone, and I couldn’t stand the way she was talking to you. Why do you let her do that?”
I cross my arms and look down. “I don’t know. I just do. I can’t be anything more than what I am. So, I just take it.”
“I take it you are still in high school?” Jeremy asks.
Nodding, I reply, “Yup, why aren’t you?”
With a devilish smirk, Jeremy replies, “Nope, got kicked out.” My eyebrows raise, and he starts to laugh. “No, I am kidding. I am 21. Graduated a few years ago, actually from a city down in Texas.”
“What brought you here?” I ask.
His smile wavers a little. “I needed a change, so I took a dart, threw it at a map, and it landed here.”
“You actually did that?” I gasp.
“Yup,” he answers. “Do you want a ride home?”
My eyes just stare at him. “Don’t you think it would be weird, if I actually showed you where I lived?”
“I am not going to kill you,” Jeremy laughs. Leaning forward, he whispers, “Yet.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Fine, take me home. I will just make sure to lock my doors at night.”
“You should do that anyway,” he replies, handing me the helmet back. “What’s your address?”
“1552 Harmony Avenue, if you take Highway J back through town, it’s right after the railroad tracks.”
With a sharp nod, Jeremy says, “Get on then.”
My hands are shaking a little bit. I pull the helmet back on, and climb on the back.
“Hold on tight,” he yells back at me, over the rumbling of the bike. Wow, really? Hold onto a hot looking guy, who is giving me a ride home on his motorcycle, tough decision there.
We make our way back through town. My mom is going to flip when I get home and she sees me on this bike. When, we finally get to my house, I breathe a sigh of relief. She isn’t home. Jeremy pulls up to the front and stops the bike, turning it off. I am suddenly very nervous. I hand him the helmet, and say, “Thanks, thanks for everything.”
“No problem,” he replies. Jeremy looks at me thoughtfully. “Don’t let them get to you so much.”
“Easier said than done.”
Jeremy sighs. “You don’t seem to be that bad of a chick. Give yourself more credit.”
“I try, and fail every time. I really appreciate what you did. I am going to pay for it tomorrow, but at least it was some vindication today,” I say, actually smiling a little.
“You have pretty smile,” he replies, “You should do it more often.”
No one has ever said that to me before. I blush, yet again. “Well, thanks for the ride home and thanks for being my knight to the rescue.”
“No problem milady,” Jeremy retorts, bowing his head. “You have a good night. Wait, what is your full name?”
“Isabelle Nimon,” I reply.
Winking at me, he says, “It was nice meeting you Isabelle Nimon. Have a good night.” With that, he starts his bike and takes off.
I stand there for a while, staring down the street. Did that all just really happen? I mean, stuff like that doesn’t really happen right? In a daze, I walk into my house. I put on dinner, and sit down at the table. I grab out my sketch book, and start to sketch Jeremy; his big brown eyes, with long lashes; his great smile; and perfect hair. Huh, well at least I will have this as a memory that this all may have been real.
Suddenly, the front door slams. Oh great, here we go. My mom comes walking into the room and throws her purse on the table next to me. “Rough day?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” my mom replies. Yeah right, I bet you had a real rough day, and look she is going straight to the whiskey. Oh goody, she is just wonderful under the influence of that stuff. “What is for dinner?”
“Ravioli,” I sigh. “It’s all we have to make.”
Turning around she glares at me. “Are you saying I am a bad mother? That I don’t keep food in the house and you are starving?”
“Did those words come out of my mouth?” I snap. “No, we just need to go grocery shopping.”
My mom turns around and starts rooting through her purse. She pulls out a whole bunch of cash and throws it on the table. “There, go grocery shopping. I can’t wait until your 21, then you can go buy mommy some liquid beverages, too.”
The Art of Life Page 1
