Mirrors

Arabella

"Have you heard there's a new kid?"

I turned my head to look over at the source of the question directed at me, my best friend, nicknamed Lee. "No," I answered, and looked back down at the sketchbook on my desk in front of me.

"Well, he's supposed to be in this class," Lee said. I could feel her eyes had never left my face, and they were now flicking back and forth between my stolid face and the picture I was slowly forming on the exposed page of my sketchbook.

"Woohoo." I looked up at the front of the classroom and noticed the absence of the professor. "Where the fuck is Jonsohn? He's usually telling me to put my sketchbook away with a scornful look on that ugly mug of his right about now," I wondered aloud, glancing at the clock mounted on the wall in front of me.

I saw Lee shrug in my periphery. "If he doesn't show up after 15 minutes, we can leave."

I turned to look at her, surprised. "Really?" I asked eagerly. She merely nodded at me. "Well that's nice to know," I said, turning back to my sketchbook.

About two minutes later, Lee asked, "Bellie, what are you always drawing in there?"

"Things," I answered immediately, not even bothering to look up or to even stop drawing.

"Everyone, Jonsohn sent an email five minutes ago saying he has to cancel class," a voice that wasn't Lee's announced. I looked up and over in the direction of the voice, and saw some skinny kid waving his iPhone in the air. Yes, I thought. We can all read your fucking email from Jonsohn just because you're waving your fucking iPhone in the air. At this announcement, everyone except Lee and I rose from their seats and left, chattering about how they all wished Jonsohn would've sent the email before class actually started and how they were all just gonna go back to sleep. I just rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to my sketchbook for the fourth time.

"C'mon, Bellie, let's go catch some breakfast," Lee suggested, rising from her seat.

I didn't move. "No thanks," I said, my pencil flying across the page in a quick, dark stroke. "You go ahead."

"Aw, but it's no fun to eat alone!" Lee whined.

I halted my hand, but didn't look up at Lee. "Lee," I said firmly. "I don't want breakfast."

Lee sighed. "Alright. See you around, Bellie."

"Bye." Once I heard the door to the classroom shut behind Lee as she left, I sighed and put down my pencil. I leaned back in my chair and brought my fingers up to my temples, closing my eyes and rubbing them as I relaxed.

I then heard a small clicking noise as my pencil hit the floor. I sighed again, and when I opened my eyes to pick it up, I noticed there were a pair of black-Converse-clad feet standing where I had heard my pencil drop. "I believe this is yours," the voice belonging to the feet said.

I looked up and noticed a boy. He was probably about five and a half feet tall, he had bleach blond hair that was growing out black at the roots, and quite the pair of green eyes. He had a small black messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and a guitar pick hanging from a chain around his neck, accompanied by a black long sleeve shirt, a puffy winter coat, and skinny jeans. I took the pencil from his outstretched hand and held it in between my middle and ring fingers. "Thanks," I said, smiling lightly.

"What are you doing in here all by yourself?" the boy asked, taking a seat down next to me.

I watched him as he sat down, observing his fluid movements. He obviously wasn't intimidated by strangers. "I was going to have a class in here this morning, but it was canceled, and I saw a great opportunity to just sit and draw. I haven't been able to do this in a while. They frown upon piles of eraser shavings on the library tables," I explained.

The boy chuckled, blinked slowly, then raised his eyebrows. I had his attention. "You're an artist?" he asked.

I shrugged. "A bit of one. It's more of a hobby than anything."

I saw him try and glance over my arm to see what was on the exposed page. I instinctively covered it and slid it under my arm toward him. He nods in approval. "You're smart. You slid the sketchbook towards me instead of away from me."

I blinked. "For years, people have always been trying to see what I draw, and I don't want them to. You learn how to manipulate people's senses." The boy's eyes inconspicuously looked me over after they had lingered on my obscured sketchbook for a few more moments, like he thought just staring at it would make whatever was on the page appear. "What are you doing in here asking the lonely girl what she's doing in here?" I asked.

The boy smiled. "I tend to look around when I'm walking down halls. I was actually looking for this room, because I have a class in here as well, but if it's canceled, I'm in here for the same reasons you are. Well, at least the sitting part," he answered.

"You must be the new boy that Lee was talking about," I told him.

He nodded again, like he thought, 'Who else could I be?' "Billie Joe Armstrong," he said, holding out his hand.

I put my pencil down and shook his hand. "Arabella Fiesco."

"Do you have a nickname for that?" Billie asked.

"My best friend Lee calls me Bellie," I said, shrugging because I didn't care if he called me that. All my professors called me Arabella just because they thought I would flip a shit and, like, fucking murder someone if they made up a nickname for me on their own. I always liked to observe authorities and how they acted around me. Their first impressions are always the most fun to determine.

"Bellie," Billie said. "I don't see how that's going to work if my name is Billie."

I smirked. "Well, you seem like a creative guy, I'm sure you could figure something else out," I said, picking up my pencil and turning to my sketchbook, making another dark stroke across the page.

I saw Billie smile in my periphery. "Gimme a day or two, and I'm sure I'll have something that no one's ever even thought of before," he said.

I looked over at him. "It's a bet, then."

"A bet? What are the stakes?"

"If you can think of a nickname that no one has called me yet in two days, you and only you can call me that name," I told him.

"And if the name isn't completely original?" Billie asked.

"If the name isn't completely original, you have to take me out to dinner. And it has to be off-campus," I said.

Billie smiled and stuck out his hand. "Deal," he said. I shook his hand. I turned back to my sketchbook for about five minutes, and I could feel Billie's eyes watching my hand fly across the pages, then he asked, "So can I take you to breakfast on-campus now?"

I stopped drawing, sighed, and smiled, closing my sketchbook and looking over at him. "Sure."

Billie smiled, stood up, and walked around to the other side of my desk. He held out a hand, and I took it, letting him hoist me up out of his seat. Now that I was also standing, he seemed about five and a half feet tall, and his green eyes looked even more striking now that I was level with them. He smiled at me and gestured for me to start walking. I smiled lightly back at him and started walking.

"So, tell me, Arabella, how good is the food here?"