Harmonious Infatuation

I walked into my first class the next morning after a terrible night sleep and a long journey to the other end of the school.
"Room 154..." I read the number on the wodden door infront of me and shrugged as I pulled it open. Inside there were groups of teenagers huddled around a small table near the back of the room. There had to be atleast ten of them. I rose my eyebrow in confussion as I heard music. I made my way toward the crowd of people and shoved my way through, not really caring what insults people were whispering about me as shoved past them. Lone and behold a girl about my age was sitting on top of one of the drawing tables holding a guitar. It looked like a Harmony. I watched as the girl strummed her fingers effortlessly along the string, creating a soft whisper of delicate music. The chords that were struck produced a sweet lullaby, almost like what I had remembered Aiden playing on his guitar. I closed my eyes and absorbed the music. When I opened them I looked at the girl. Her long brunette hair hung in her face. Her eyes were closed, she seemed unaware of the group of people surrounding her, not really caring. As the bell rang, everyone scurried to their seats as a tall lean blonde haired man walked through the doors of the classroom, exactly on time. It seemed planned. I walked over to an empty seat at an empty table and sat down. The girl on the drawing table never stopped playing her guitar, she continued to produce lullaby like music. The teacher whose name was apparently Mr. Brown, or so said my schedule, looked at her and crossed his arms, his nose in the air. "September...." Was all he said, then the girl removed the guitar strap from around her and sat in the seat next to mine, not looking at me.
The teacher clapped his hands together then, and rubbed them back and forth quickly, "Now then. Welcome everyone to your first day of Intro to 3D Art. I am Mr. Brown."
"Hey, Bruce!" A male voice called from across the room. Everyone glanced over at him as he high-fived the boy next to him.
"Damien, you will always and forever refer to me as Mr. Brown. I will not take anymore of your nonsense this year Mr. Williams..." Mr. Brown huffed and stepped behind the podium beside him. "Now, I will take attendance..." He licked the tip of his thumb and began to flip through a few papers. "Jessica Albert?"
"Here." A tiny voice from the back called.
He continued to go down the list of names, soon hitting the name September Howard. The girl next to me raised her hand without a word and dropped it the minute Mr. Brown nodded at her.
He finally made it to the very end, and that's when he called my name, "Laila Vasser?"
"Here." I said weakly and raised my hand.
"Ah, Laila Vasser," Mr. Brown began as he walked toward me holding out a long hand, "I've looked foward to meeting our letter entry winner."
I shook his hand and smiled while my eyes caught everyone elses eyes on me the second he said "letter entry winner". I sighed under my breath, attention wasn't what I wanted.
"Everyone this is Laila Vasser. If I'm wrong correct me, Laila," he started and looked at me, "This young lady took a dive when she wrote her letter, very risky but she won. She just moved here. Correct?"
"Yeah." I said again, looking down at the table.
I then heard his footsteps as he walked away and ran his fingers through his medium length blonde hair. A sigh of relief escaped me. I had no idea I'd get this much attention.
When I finally decided to look up I noticed some eyes were still on me, and some were on the papers infront of them. Mr. Brown was walking around the room handing everyone a simple piece of white printer paper.
"Okay class, I want you all to take your pencils and draw one object that describes you." He announced and peered around the classroom full of empty stares. "You did all bring a pencil, correct?" He motioned annoyingly with his hands.
Some shook their heads while others pulled pencils out of their bags on the floor, luckily enough I did bring a pencil.
"You are in art class...Where you draw....And need a writing utensil for such a hobbie...." He trailed on, making the already uncomfortable feeling teenagers, look even more uncomfortable.
He then sighed and passed a container of pencils to the boy next to him as he passed it on. "This is going to be an interesting year..." I heard Mr. Brown mumble as he headed toward his office, "you have five minutes."
I stared blankly at the sheet of paper infrot of me. I had no idea what object could possibly portray who I was. People are more complex than just a drawing.
I found myself peering at September's paper next to me. She was biting her tongue and her forehead was crinkled, as if in deep thought. Suddenly her pencil fluttered across the paper. She drew two downward facing lines, parallel to each other, and one at the top, connecting the two. An eighth note.
I sighed and looked at my paper. I began to doodle apples, something I enjoyed doing, and then thought about my personality. What was I passionate about?....I thought...Well art of course.
I remained silent, still tapping my pencil eraser against the wooden table and I listened to the faint scratch of pencils on paper. Then it hit me. I began to draw a tree.