ELIAS

PROCRASTINATING IS SOMETHING that I am a professional at. Multitasking, as well. I have an insane amount of homework to work on, but I pushed that all back to work on it later. Right now, I'm working on a drawing. Not my contest entry for TCVA, but something else. I'm doing this to free up my mind. Not because I'm going through any stress or anything, but just for fun.

Today was eventful. Rylie and I started our plan of advertising Taco Fiesta by taking photos of some of the food that are offered. Cannon said that he'd hopefully have the photos edited by tomorrow, which sets the tone off for the start of actually promoting Taco Fiesta. All day, I've been pondering on if our plan would work or not, but we'll have to see how it goes once everything falls in line.

Other than that, I got to have a conversation with Rylie—which felt mutual. It wasn't serious nor irrelevant. It was just a typical conversation about the future, which included aspirations, and simply, stuff about life. It was refreshing, especially since today was a train wreck. Between keeping up with classes and saving Taco Fiesta, it was gratifying to wind down for a bit. I felt different around her, not necessary in a bad way, but in a good way.

My thoughts were interrupted by a clamorous, recurring knock on my bedroom door. "Come in," I hollered as I turned my roller chair away from my desk, covering my sketchbook with my homework papers. The door opened slowly, making a creak noise. It was my mother, who was still in her work clothes, skirt and blouse. She had a mug in her hand, a tea bag hanging out from the side. I raised my eyebrow, wondering why she was here.

"Elias, I made tea for you," she chirped, moving a few papers out of the way so she could set down the mug. During that process, my sketchbook was shown, only to reveal a rough sketch of skyscrapers. Internally, I did a facepalm because she wasn't quite meant to see that because I was supposed to be working on my homework, not sketching.

"Wow," she observed the book. "This actually looks great."

"It could use some improvement, but yeah, I guess it looks okay," I shrugged as I curled my fingers around the handle of the mug to take a sip that hopefully wouldn't burn my tongue. A generous amount of steam rose up from the tea. It wasn't too much, but it wasn't a little bit either. I ingested a tiny sip as my tongue curled up. It wasn't as hot as a McDonald's coffee, which I hear is scorching hot, but the tea wasn't warm, either.

"So how has school been lately?" Mom questioned as she adjusted my opened blinds.

"It's been stressful, but on the bright side, I decided to enter a citywide art contest," I replied, enthusiasm perking in my voice here and there.

"That's cool. What are the prizes?" She inquired.

"An art scholarship to Laurier University, a one-thousand dollar cash prize . . ." I tried to reflect on everything. ". . . and two summer tickets to Italy."

Mom held a hand over her chest in shock. "That's actually a great prize. If you win, who is the second ticket going to be for?"

I paused. "I . . . actually don't know yet. I never even thought about it, but I'm more excited about the art scholarship at Laurier. I hear they have a nice art program over there."

It was true. I didn't know who I'd give the second ticket to. I don't want to give my ticket to just about anyone. It'll have to go to someone special. Someone who I'd want to relax and spend quality time with. I could already get an idea of who I want to go with, but I probably shouldn't be jumping into conclusions right now. As of now, I'm genuinely more excited about Laurier and getting the chance of winning an art scholarship.

Let's be clear. Laurier isn't quite my dream school, but I heard that they have a nice art program. I just had to bring that to Mom's attention, considering that her and Dad can actually save some money, considering that college around here is not cheap. I began to explain to her how the art program would be beneficial to establish a stable career of being an artist.

Let's just say that she wasn't buying it.

"The program actually sounds nice, but I'm concerned about you being an artist. It's not a stable career, Elias, it really isn't. There is a chance that you'd make a good amount, but it isn't guaranteed," Mom explained.

"You're right," I accepted. "But what if I at least become an artist as a side job?"

"If the other job is stable, then I suppose you'd be alright," she planted her hand on my shoulder before she made her way to abandon the room.

I sighed before taking a sip of my tea, which was now lukewarm. There were hints of sweetness in it, but my tongue mostly felt the bitter flavor of the tea. What if Mom was right? What if I end up not making enough money—or even worse—none. Okay, maybe I'm over exaggerating, but my point still stands. At least, I think it does. I wasn't completely sure, and I wasn't going to spend the entire night thinking about it.

Unfortunately, I still have homework to work on, so I might as well continue working on it. I had work for Calculus and Literature, so I might as well work on Literature first, then work on Calculus. Even though my mind was setting up to think and process something completely different, my thoughts still invaded my head.

It didn't vanish. It just sat there.

Brisk, early morning air hit my cheeks as I trudged to the main entrance of school. It was still dark outside. The only lights that could be seen were lights from the school buses in the bus lane and lights from inside the building, other than the light peeking from the sky unfolding from sunrise. Dozens of students piled the broad sidewalk from the buses, chatting among themselves.

I, however, didn't have the motivation to do the same. It was six in the morning and all I desired to do was to crawl back in my bed. Today was nothing but a typical Monday where I craved energy that I didn't have. When I reached inside the building, I separated myself from the crowds of other students and rushed to the east side of the building to get to my locker. The corridor was just as loud and wild as a zoo. I unlocked my locker combination and took out my History textbook.

I felt sluggish, so I didn't shove it in my backpack. Instead, I hugged it with my arms before I took one last look at my locker. Papers filled with old sketches were so close to flying out. They made my locker look as if there actually weren't other items that were somewhat essential to school. The first bell rang as I slammed my locker shut. Before I got the chance to make my departure to first period, there was a brief tap on my shoulder.

"Good morning, Eli," Cannon gleamed from behind me, his phone in hand. "Guess what?"

"Good morning, Cannon. What do you want me to guess?" I mustered a smile as I raised an eyebrow, only because he seemed to have a lot of energy so early in the morning.

He powered on and unlocked his phone to go through his files to show me a few edits. "I edited the pictures you made for Taco Fiesta last night. Like it?"

As he scrolled through all the pictures, my eyes widened in amazement. The pictures actually appeared brighter and somewhat better, as if they were ripped out of a magazine. "I love them. You did a great job," I acknowledged.

"Thanks. I already sent the photos to Nora, so she'll handle them ending up on Instagram," he shoved his phone in his pocket. "So, how did taking pictures with Rylie work out? The photos did turn out nice."

"It was great. We got along well," I replied as if it wasn't a big deal. "After we took pictures, we sat at a table and rambled about life."

"That's cute. It sounded like fun," Cannon chirped as we entered homeroom. 

"It was," I reflected on everything from Friday, a small smile spreading across my face.

All my classes before lunch period flew by within a breeze. Once it was lunch, we all gathered at a table in the lunchroom. Nora posted a picture for Taco Fiesta's Instagram page a few minutes ago, and we all showed some kind of enthusiasm for it. Already, the post had one like and the account had a follow. Probably because it was Cannon that liked the post and followed the account, but still.

Nora showed us her phone screen as another like appeared in her notifications. This time, it was from Adrienne, who was currently typing something into her phone. "I'm almost finished sharing this on my account. Hold on," she said as she continued typing away.

"That's great," Nora gleamed as she placed her phone face-down on the table. She opened a bag of Cheetos, foiled her hand into the bag, and inserted a chip into her mouth. The bright orange Cheeto dust was attached to her fingers, so she rubbed it off with a napkin. "By the way, Adrienne, where's Axel? Will he be joining us? He hasn't been here for the entire lunch period."

"No, he's actually eating lunch with his friends," Adrienne replied, her shoulders raised. "I just shared the post and it's already gotten a couple of likes."

"That's great. We're already making some progress," Cannon cheered as he reached out his hand to pat my back.

I mustered a smile. "Yeah, I'm interested in seeing how much this will help."

Hopefully, Taco Fiesta will gain some more customers just like it did in the past again. It's amazing how social media can be beneficial to pretty much anything, including advertisement. It may be surprising, but true.

Cannon, Nora, and Adrienne fell into a deep conversation about the post, which left Rylie and I alone. She was fiddling her fork around her lunch tray with one hand while her phone was in the other, scrolling through what appeared to be an e-book or something. She was reading, so I didn't bother her. I remained quiet.

On my lunch tray, I had a pizza crust, grapes, and a miniature water bottle. I took a grape and placed it into my mouth. It was naturally sweet and definitely not the best grape I've had, but it was alright. I inserted a few more into my mouth one by one. Before I could wash it all down with crisp cold water, a tap crept on my shoulder. Rylie's hand trembled as she set it down on the table.

"I was wondering . . . how did everything go with the Instagram post? I wasn't paying attention," she questioned out of curiosity with a faint chuckle, gesturing to her phone.

"Everything's starting out okay. Nora's post on the Taco Fiesta Instagram page has gotten a couple of likes, and Adrienne's post on her page also gotten some likes," he informed me, mustering a hopeful grin.

"Oh, that's cool," she muttered. "Also, if you don't mind me asking, how . . . is the painting going? Your contest entry, I mean."

"It's going great. I haven't quite started transferring everything to a canvas, but I have my sketch, at least," I explained. "I plan on starting on the painting after school today, probably at the lake in town . . . the same one where you made a suggestion for what I should paint."

Rylie mused, her mocha brown eyes glistening from the lunchroom's high-ceiling lights. "I know you can do it. Good luck."

I nodded in acknowledgement with a smile, looking forward to later on. I wasn't quite going to start painting, but I will decide what hues I should use and start drawing on the canvas before painting. It won't be anything some people would consider special, but it's something, at least.