Where the Wind Takes Us

I have about a couple of weeks until my folios are due, so I decide that this is the best time to work on them. Using my feelings to produce the best art work is usually the best method to go for me, especially if I’m in a mood of distress or stress-inducing. The collection is focused on the people who are most important to me, and as of right now, they’re my friends. With this collection, I know that I don’t have to be in a particular mood to work on their pieces, which ultimately is the aim for me. I have to be in the mood to work on something, otherwise I’ll push it to the side. Procrastination is not my friend.

I’m writing out the concept for my collection when it occurs to me that at some point, I’m going to need the whole group to take a photo together and whatnot. I text Georgia and tell her to round up the group to meet me in the art room, asap.

“So this is what you do after school when you’re not with us,” James says dramatically, waving his arms around like a mad man. Georgia and Colton trail behind him, Mick bringing up the rear. We’re still not talking. Things are completely weird between us but I don’t care, because I’m still upset with him. “And to think I thought you were in a drug ring or something.”

I stick my tongue out at James. “Are you going to let me explain or not?”

Colton chuckles. “Why’d you want us here, Nat?”

I begin explaining my art project. “So for Studio Art I have to make a collection and my plan is to make a collection of drawings that focus on the people that are most important to me and so while I was thinking of the concept of this I realised I needed a group shot. So here y’all are.” I pause. “Oh, and happy going away to university presents. Now you’ll have a drawing of yourselves and the group in your dorm rooms or wherever you’re going to uni so you won’t forget me. Or us. Whatever.”

There’s some collective silence before Georgia speaks for whom I assume the whole group. “Nat, this is unreal.”

I shrug, letting a smile creep over my face. “Just a way of saying thanks for being kick-ass friends. It’s nothing big.”

Without warning, James envelops me into a hug, and within seconds, Colton and Georgia have joined in, forming a circle around me that I realise I’m unable to get out of. Though I can’t breathe, I’m not-so-secretly pleased that my friends like their presents.

“Mick, join us!” James calls to Mick. I manage to peek under James’ arm to see Mick staring straight at me, before turning around and leaving the art room.

Frowning, I wriggle out of my friends’ embrace. There’s a look in Mick’s eyes that portrays both sadness and hurt, but I’m not sure why he’s feeling either of those.

“Mick!” I call out, but he doesn’t turn around. I run after him. “Mick Ryans goddamnit if you don’t turn around and stop I’ll kick your ass!”

Finally, Mick turns around with a hint of a smile ghosting his classic good looks. It’s moments like these that I forget that Mick is actually pretty darn good looking. Like, really good looking.

“What do you want, Nat?”

Standing in front of Mick, I hold my stomach until I catch my breath, because Mick takes long strides when he walks and me being short, I do not. He waits patiently until I’m able to speak.

“Why did you leave the room before? Why do you look all sad and hurt? What’s wrong?”

Mick frowns. “Since when did you care about me? I thought we weren’t speaking.”

Hearing that pierces my heart because yeah, Mick and I aren’t on speaking terms at the moment but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about him any less. Even if what he did in the past was shady as shit.

“You’re my best friend, Mick,” I say. “Even though you’re an annoying piece of shit who does stupid ass shit, you’re still my best friend.”

Mick’s face softens. “I still consider you my best friend too, you know. Even if I’m sad and shit.” He chuckles, but it’s not one you make when you’re happy. It sounds, well, bitter. “Don’t get me wrong though,” he adds. “I like the present you’ve made for us. It’s just sad because it reminds me that you’re leaving us and as selfish as it sounds, I don’t want you to leave.”

“Aw jeez Micky,” I tease, trying to make the situation light even though Mick’s left me blushing. “I don’t even know if I’ll get into the schools in Melbourne or not. I could still be ‘round, you know.”

Mick raises an eyebrow. “I’ve seen your shit, Nat. I know I didn’t take it seriously before but I’m fairly sure you’ll get in somewhere.”

I smile, surprised that Mick’s capable of not being a dick. It’s just that he’s been this way lately, so him being nice is kind of a shock to the system. “Thanks, Mick.” We both smile at each other, bringing fuzzy feelings to my heart. Wait, Nat! I stop myself. This doesn’t make up for what Mick did to Josh. “Just so we’re clear, I’m still mad at you for what happened between you and Josh.”

“I know,” Mick says. “I wanna tell you the whole story, if you want to hear it.”

I’m about to nod, but I restrain myself. “Not yet,” I tell him. Mick’s surprised, so I continue quickly. “I want to hear it but I also want to channel what anger I have towards you left into my drawings. It’s an artist thing.”

“More like a stupid girl thing,” Mick mutters and I don’t hesitate hitting him on the shoulder.

“Nat!” Mick rubs his shoulder in pain.

“What?” I blink innocently.

Mick glares at me. “I hate you.”

“You wish.”



Even though the original idea was to draw a group shot, I decide I’ll do Mick’s drawing now before I hear the truth of what happened between him and Josh. The group protests about having been brought here for no reason, well, just James because I took him away from his “girl fishing” time, but they decide to stick around and watch me do my thing. Georgia turns on the radio and James shows us his funky dance moves while Colton watches me drawing Mick. All Mick is doing is sitting on a stool, smiling that lopsided smile he knows I love so much. It’s fun bossing him around, making him stand up, and then flex into certain poses that are purely for my own amusement and not for the drawing at all. Mick notices this, and runs over to throw me over his shoulder.

“Mick!” I scream at him, earning deep laughs from Colton and James.

“What?” Mick asks innocently. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“I fucking hate you,” I say, realising he’s just repeating my words from earlier.

Mick laughs, but this time, it’s a genuine one. “You wish, sweetheart.”