Together Under Our Roof

Misty walked through the halls cautiously, hiding from potential danger as she wanted to avoid another accident like the day before. Quickly, she slipped into her next class, safely seating herself in the back corner once again.

That morning, Misty had woken up, again, to Michael’s warm chest, wrapped in his arms in a blanket of sweet warmth. This time, he had woken up first and was waiting for her to wake up.

“Finally woke up?” he had asked mockingly. “You fell asleep pretty quickly last night,” Michael accused. Misty had fallen asleep during his answer about his memory and she began to felt bad.

“I am so sorry!” Misty exclaimed, guilty for falling asleep on him. Michael only shook it off and laughed. She wiggled out of his embrace, noticing that his arms were still around her. She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom to get ready for school.

Misty’s face went red when she thought of that morning. She quickly ducked her head down to hide her face as her classmates filed into the room. Although she knew no one knew who she was, she was not willing to show her red face to anyone.

When class started, Misty drifted her attention to the passing clouds outside of the window. Michael would be going out to get rat traps and poisonous rat spray for the rat problem. She thought of how she should repay him. She sighed deeply as she settled onto another dinner for him, unable to come up with anything better.

When the class ended, Misty headed to the art room for her free period.

During the free period, students are allowed to go or do anything they want for the period.

Making her way through the students in the halls was a long task. Misty pushed past people, dashing to the art room as fast as she could. When she finally reached the secluded hall, she pushed through the doors of the art room, slamming the door behind her.

“Nice to see you here Misty,” a deep voice said cheerily as Misty entered the room, tossing her things to the side.

“Hello Mr. Bartley,” Misty returned, not turning to the man at the desk as she took out a canvas from behind a closet. Quickly, she set it by a window and took out paints. By then, Mr. Bartley was on his feet and walking over to Misty to survey her work.

“It looks like it’s almost done,” he commented as Misty quickly got to work on her depiction of a gruesome maze, with creatures and shadows of monsters. The sky above it was dark and cloudy, with no sign of life or hope. It was a cruel, demented depiction of her world and her state of mind. Misty used multiple dark shades of colors, swiping the colors across the canvas, distorting the picture into something horrible and dangerously crude.

“Almost,” Misty answered. “It’s missing something though. I just don’t know what it is.” Misty scanned her canvas, occasionally adding a line or shape to the mass of darkness.

When her eyes reached the clouds, something in her made her stop. She quickly dipped her brush into the yellow and brought it back to the clouds. With a light stroke, she brought a ray of light to her darkened world, unsure where the light was coming from.

Something did not seem right with the ray, but it did look oddly beautiful. However, the ray did not sit well with Misty. Immediately, she blacked out the light with a blackened color, angrily throwing the paintbrush into the water cup.

“What happened?” Mr. Bartley asked pitifully, appalled. He had enjoyed the light and had hoped it meant something good had happened to Misty.

Misty stayed silent, telling Mr. Bartley that it was time to go.

“I think I’ll leave you to it then. You know what to do,” Mr. Bartley said with a sigh, leaving the classroom as Misty sat alone, staring at the cloud.

“Sorry, Mr. Bartley,” Misty sighed as the door closed.

Misty stood, removing the canvas from her stand and pushing it back into the closet, pulling out another, clean canvas and resetting it on her stand. Sitting before the canvas, she stared at the blank, the brush hovering over her dark colors. Suddenly, she was unable to dip her brush into her colors. Sighing, she got up and went to the color box, searching the colors for something she was picturing.

Oddly, her hand stopped above a light bluish color, and it reminded her of the sky, Michael’s favorite color. Unable to avoid the color, Misty reluctantly picked up the jar. She searched for more colors and was able to bring four jars of light, soft colors to her canvas. With her she brought a white jar, a pink jar, a green jar, and a yellow jar. Hesitantly, she set the jars down. Dipping the brush into the light blue, she stroked the color across the blank, turning the white into a piece of the cloudless sky.

Quickly, Misty added into her sky a cluster of clouds. As time passed, her colors stroked through the canvas, swirling around each other in an intricate way. The swirls twisted together, creating a beautiful piece of nothingness and the world. Misty was unable to figure out what to do with the painting.

“Time’s up,” Mr. Bartley chuckled as Misty jumped at his voice. “It’s very nice,” he commented as he studied her piece. He was impressed at the work, taken aback by the new shades of color. He looked at Misty who looked at the colors, skeptical of the picture itself.

“Thank you,” she sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Bartley asked. Misty shook her head.

“I don’t know what it means. It’s so different,” Misty choked. Mr. Bartley sighed.

“Misty, it means something in you has changed. I don’t know what happened but it must have been good. Look at it, it’s beautiful,” Mr. Bartley commented, motioning for Misty to take a good look at her brightly colored canvas.

Misty did not respond. She only shook her head and put the painting away before the next class.

“I’ll be back after school for it,” she told her art teacher. “Thank you Mr. Bartley,” she smiled as she closed the door behind her. Mr. Bartley chuckled as he suspected her happiness was the source of her brightened colors.