Pencil, Paper and Passion.

I was halfway home when I remembered Charlotte and my doctors appointment. After a five second debate, in which I tried to imagine the extent of my mother's anger at my absence, I pulled into a gas station and took my phone out.

Hey, Charles, be there in ten. - Eliza.

Okay. Wait, what about Brandt? - Charles.

He pissed me off. I'll tell you when I get there! - Eliza.

Ha! Alright, girly, see you in ten. - Charles.

I tossed my phone in the passenger seat and pulled out of the gas station, heading in the direction of Charlotte's house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That jerk actually called you a twit? In front of the entire Chemistry class?" Charlotte's mouth gaped open. We were sitting on her bed, discussing the days events. She appeared a little pale, but was otherwise fine. Well, when she wasn't throwing up, I amended. Almost every fifteen minutes or so, Charlotte would shoot up from the bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

I shrugged. "Yep. It's not that bad, though. I mean, come on, Brandt and I are constantly insulting one another."

"Yeah," She said slowly. "True. So, I heard we have a new Chemistry teacher..."

I rolled my eyes. Charlotte was such a gossip. "I have a new Chemistry teacher. You decided not to take Chem. II, remember?"

"Because I didn't have to. You, my little nerd, didn't either but, being the overachiever that you are, jumped at the opportunity for an extra credit." She picked up a saltine cracker from a plate beside the bed and eyed it dubiously before she shrugged to herself, shoving the cracker in her mouth.

"What about Brandt?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. "He's taking the class, too."

"Brandt had to. He failed Physics, remember? He needed another science credit."

"Oh, yeah. Well, anyway," I said. "It'll look good on my college applications."

"There is that. Maybe I should drop my 'study' period and take Chem. with you." Charlotte debated, eating another cracker. Suddenly, she turned curious eyes on me. "But let's not talk about that. Brandy Harold text me saying the new teacher is really young."

"Uh-huh. Twenty-three, I think he said. It's his first year teaching."

"Brandy Harold also said that he's a hottie." She grinned.

I tried to maintain a straight face but her wicked smile prodded me into indulging her. After all, she was sick. I smiled back at her and fanned my face. "Mr. Gallagher is a major hottie. He's got an amazing body; you can tell he's got muscle, but it's sleek, like a jungle cat. Um, he has messy brown hair; the kind you just want to sink your fingers into. But," I said, sighing dramatically. "It's really the eyes that get you."

"What?" She said excitedly when I stopped talking. When I shrugged and pretended to examine my nails, she reached out and grabbed my arms, shaking me. "Out! Out with it! What's so special about his eyes?!"

I laughed. "Alright, alright! Now, stop rattling my brains before I forget!"

Charlotte immediately subsided and sat back, excitement still gleaming in her eyes. "Okay, sorry. Please, continue where you left off."

"Hmm, let's see. Where was I? Oh, yes, Mr. Gallagher's eyes." I gave Charlotte an exaggerated wide-eyed look. "They're violet, Charles. This really deep, dreamy purple and he's got eyelashes a girl would kill for; really thick and longer than any females' I've ever seen. They should look ridiculous on a man but, somehow, they just look sexy on him."

Charlotte gaped at me before putting a hand on her forehead and falling back on her bed, pretending to faint. I lifted an eyebrow and poked her exposed foot. She popped back up, letting loose a quiet scream. "Oh, my God! I swear, my heart just about stopped." Suddenly, her excited expression turned sour. I looked at her questioningly. "What? What's wrong?"

"I forgot he was a teacher." Her lips moved into a sullen pout. "I can't hit on him if he's a teacher."

"Um, Charles, I've been calling him Mr. Gallagher." I pointed out. "How could you forget?"

"Well, the way you were-" She suddenly stopped talking and a hand flew to her mouth. I sat up in concern just as she shot off the bed and into the bathroom. I heard the sound of retching and winced. Poor Charles, I thought. The poor girl was really sick.

I waited on the bed, knowing she would want her privacy. When she came out, I noticed how drained she looked. Concerned, I got up and helped her back to bed. Tucking her in, I said, "Well, Charles, I think it's time I went home."

"No," She whined. "I feel fine; you don't have to go."

"I really do. My mom's probably mad enough, as it is. I should at least be home before dark, don't you think?"

"I guess."

"Charles, darling, don't pout. I promise I'll come back tomorrow."

Her lower lip plumped out even more and she didn't acknowledge my words. I grinned and kissed her cheek. "See you tomorrow, girly."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got home at six o' clock, just as the sun started to set. I unlocked the front door and made my way, quietly, inside. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard my mother's voice. "Elizabeth, would you come down here."

It wasn't a question, so I turned and made my way back down the stairs. I stopped in front of her. "Yes?"

She stared at me for a few seconds before turning on her heel and striding into the formal sitting room. I followed slowly, entering the room just as she sat on the edge of a fragile looking sofa. I smirked to myself. Of course she would pretend this was going to be a civil conversation. I hugged myself, wandering over to the window. I waited, watching the sunset, for my mother to speak. Finally, she did. "Where were you, Elizabeth?"

"Charlotte's house." I said without turning away from the window. I could feel her disapproving eyes on my back. "She's sick, with the flu."

"I see. You couldn't have gone to see her after your doctors appointment?"

I shrugged. "I told her I'd be at her house right after school. I'll be going tomorrow, also."

"And what if I told you that I forbid it?"

I turned to face her. "I'm eighteen. I can go wherever I like."

"You live in my house. That means you abide by my rules, Elizabeth."

"Dad's house. This is Dad's house, not yours!"

"When your father died he-"

"Left everything to Tuck and I. The day I turn twenty-one I'll be given my trust fund. Which," I said, giving her a hard smile. "Includes this house. When this house, and everything in it, is turned over to me, make no mistake, Mother. You will not be living here."

"You would throw me out? The woman who gave you life? Your own mother?!"

"Hah! Don't give me that! An ally cat can give birth to a litter of kittens, but that doesn't mean she's a mother to them!"

My own mother's hand shot out and connected with my cheek. A resounding crack vibrated through the room as the force of her blow sent me sprawling on the floor. I sat where I was for a few seconds, shocked. Finally, the pain intruded and I lifted a hand to my cheek. It was hot, almost as if I had a fever, and I could feel the faint outline of my mother's fingers. I could also feel a trickle of liquid at the corner of my mouth and I wiped it off. I looked at my fingers, not surprised to see blood. I looked at my mother, who held both hands to her mouth in horror, and got up off the floor.

"E-Elizabeth, I'm so sor-" My mother started, but I cut her off. "No. I don't want to hear it."

"But-"

"No!" I shouted. I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath. When I was calm again, I opened my eyes and said, "I don't want to talk about it. Not right now." I left the room and went upstairs, to my bedroom. I shut the door and leaned against it, standing there for what seemed like hours. Finally, I roused myself and headed to the bathroom, stripping off clothes along the way. I intended to let the hot water of the shower ease the tension from my body, if not my mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, I dressed in an Empire waist dress in black, with lacy, capped sleeves. After adjusting the bow in front, I pulled on a pair of white, lace pantyhose with a flowered pattern. I padded into the bathroom and stared at my face. My mother's hand had left a bruise and with my light skin, there was no amount of makeup that would hide it. I sighed and left my hair down, around my face, hoping that it would shadow the bruise. I left the bathroom and went to my closet, where I slipped on a pair of black flats.

I went downstairs and bypassed the sun room, going straight to the kitchen instead. Our cook, Maya, lifted an eyebrow at me. "You better get in that sun room before you're late for breakfast, Miss Eliza."

"I'm not eating breakfast this morning, Maya." I answered, going to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. "I just wanted to grab this."

"Alright, but you better leave now, before your mother comes looking for you."

I nodded and left the kitchen. I grabbed my bag and keys and left the house. I got in my car and headed to school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I got to school, I went straight to my locker. Brandt stood there, looking hopeful. I pursed my lips at him, waiting. He sighed. "Alright, Eliza, I'm sorry for calling you a twit in front of everybody in Chemistry. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not in that class anymore."

I narrowed my eyes, considering, before I nodded. "Okay, I forgive you. Now, why aren't you in Chemistry anymore?" I asked, opening my locker.

"The counselors are making me retake Physics."

"Maybe you'll actually pass this time."

"Maybe..." He muttered, scowling. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. "Is that a bruise on your face?"

I gave him a sheepish look. "I ran into door."

"Really?" He looked skeptical. He knew my mother was a first class bitch.

I sighed, trying to look put upon. "Me and my mom go into another fight, in the sitting room. I was done yelling so I tried to storm out of the room. I thought the door was open. I mean, it was, just not all the way."

Brandt burst out laughing. I glared at him and slammed my locker shut. "I don't forgive you anymore." I turned and made my way to homeroom.

"Oh, come one! Eliza!" I hear Brandt call from behind me. I ignored him...and kept on ignoring him all through homeroom. In second period, Chemistry, I went straight to my seat in the back. I put my elbows on the desk, and, resting my chin in my hand, watched people file into the classroom. My eyes slid over, to the desk in the front of the room, and rested on Mr. Gallagher. He was bent over a book, those wonderful eyes cast downward. I smiled to myself when he jumped when the late bell rang. Suddenly, he looked to the back of the room where I was sitting.

My smile faded as we stared at each other. I saw something flash in his eyes, something hot. I felt an answering fire in my veins, along with a quick spurt of panic and fear. Deliberately, I looked away. This, I thought to myself, could be bad.