I sat down in my seat with a sigh. It's great that they understand my situation now, but what about school? There's no way they'll let me type my tests.

Even if I do somehow persuade the teachers to let me type my homework while simultaneously hiding my 'powers' at the same time, how will I survive―

"Ziv?" A hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around to find Abigail watching me with furrowed eyebrows. "You okay?"

I looked deep into her peridot eyes and sighed with relief. A large burden was taken off of my shoulders now that my parents believed me. I felt like things would start to be a lot easier. However, I was still puzzled over what to do with school. I guess it's better to not worry about it too much. But how can I if school is what will take up a majority of my life?

I stretched my arms forward then turned to her. I don't need to worry, I guess. "I'm fine, thanks. I feel a lot better!"

"Really? Awesome! How were the treats we gave you yesterday?" She smiled, seeming eager to hear my reaction.

"They were delicious," I stated when my thoughts drifted to the crushed macarons and chocolate that rested on my bed. I can't even eat them.

I looked into her green eyes that sparked with confidence, past her fierce personality, past her stubbornness to gaze at the kindness that dwelled within her. That very kindness was how I was first graced with her prescence in kindergarten, when she snapped at the children who took advantage of the naivety that I still hold on to. If my parents could believe me, then so could she. Well, maybe.

She tilted her head at me in curiosity, but I didn't speak. I smiled and turned back to the front with my mind in deep thought. Friends are supposed to help each other when in need.

But what would telling her do? What if she doesn't believe me? I thought to the sweets that were on my bed. I wasted their efforts. I should've told them earlier. They don't need to waste money on what I can't eat.

"Abigail," I muttered as our advisor gave out the new calendars for the month, "I'll tell you... what's been bothering me recently."

She never responded, only giving a slight nod as she gulped. Her fists tightened when she let out a trembling sigh.

Without even realizing it, I allowed myself to open up to those around me. The words that Father croaked with a broken voice yesterday resonated within me.

'Don't you trust us?'

Just as I was about to shut my eyes to block out the words that surrounded me, the bell rang. I guess I'm not really good at showing affection.

When I stood up from my chair, Abigail patted my shoulder and said, "thanks."

My breath caught in my throat with sudden relief. I smiled at her with a final nod before gathering my things and heading to my first class.

Time went by too fast. There was nothing else I could think of but the sense of dread that made my throat clam up in guilt. My drawing's gone. I'm going to fail the one class that I can let my emotions out in, all because of my incompetence.

I halted in front of the inviting door that led to the vibrantly colored room as the surrounding students shuffled around me to get inside. My heart was ramming against my ribcage when I lowered my hand to the hem of my sweater, tugging on it briefly before walking through the crowd. The late bell's cries reverberated in my head when I settled into my regular seat.

I refused to speak, only listening to the chairs clawing the tile floor amongst the excited murmurs that filled the room when Mr. Abington closed the door.

"Good evening, everyone," he started while sliding onto his stool, "today's the last day to work on your art project so let's get to it. Get with your partners and grab your sketchbooks from the table!"

Everyone stood and hurried to the rectangular table that had a pile of assorted notebooks on top of it.

I grabbed the blue one that had my name written on it in capital letters. Mr. Abington's handwriting was captivating; the flawless way he wrote my name, the flowing strokes of ink that bled dots on the back of the cardboard cover, the loops and swirls of letters that were melded together. It was all too breathtaking. I didn't move, overtaken by the simplicity of calligraphy when my vision suddenly blurred. I have to eat these beautiful things.

I couldn't decide if that was a miracle or a tragedy.

At the sound of a cough from behind me, I lifted my head to pull myself out of my bittersweet reverie. My feet then waltzed me back to my seat while I could only gaze at my name in wonder. After setting it on the table, I faced Kyle.

His lips were in a thin line, taking the shape of a scowl when he noticed me looking at him. "What?"

I averted my eyes from his annoyed glare and sighed. "Did you happen to think of any way that I could draw you better? I'm still waiting for your answer."

"...No. It's fine, just do whatever."

I snapped my head up to look at him with wide eyes, throwing my thoughts at him. Then what was the point of ripping my drawing apart?!

My body was shaking in frustration. I looked down into my lap to see my fingers pressing into my skin. This is ridiculous.

"Well, can I at least see your drawing so that I can get an idea of what you want from me?"

"You will, soon. Just worry about how you're going to reflect my beauty onto paper in what little amount of time you have," he said with a smirk as he lifted his chin up to look down at me before getting into position.

"You don't understand," I muttered, biting my lip. Drawing was the only skill that wasn't stolen from me. That gave me more of a reason to appreciate art and the practice that came with it. It was the oasis that subsided my hunger and unveiled my creativity. The only reason why he doesn't is because I've never told him. It's not his fault.

Even if it pained me to see my drawing torn before my very eyes, nothing could be done about it. I just had to move on and draw him again. I took deep breaths, then grabbed my pencil and pressed it onto the blank paper.

The only sounds made between us for the next hour were our breaths combined with my pencil scratching against the sheet.

"Ziva," my art teacher called, breaking me from my concentration when I was beginning to shade Kyle's clothes. Class was almost over, but we were the only ones still working.

I stood from my chair and walked to him with raised eyebrows. "Yes?"

He held the tip of his pen between his teeth, observing my drawing with a frown. "What happened to your drawing from before? Wasn't it almost done?"

I froze. What would happen if he knew the truth? How should I fix this? My eyes quickly darted to Kyle. He was standing up, facing my direction.

"Um, I..." I mumbled, trailing off to stall and think of an excuse. My fingers fiddled with the hem of my sweater when I stared at his leather shoes that shone under the artificial light.

"Mr. Abington!" Kyle abruptly burst into our conversation, momentarily derailing my train of thought. "She didn't do anything, it was-"

Before he could finish speaking, I covered his mouth with my hands. He made incoherent noises while glaring at me with wide eyes.

"No! I... I lost it on my way home. I wanted to show it to my parents but never got the chance to."

"...Oh. That's a pity; I wanted to hang it up. You have to take better care of these types of things, Ziva. Just make sure that you finish your new one before school ends today." The teacher scolded, resting the side of his head in his palm while looking at the both of us.

"I will!" I promised before internally sighing with relief when he smiled and walked away. That went easier than expected. Now I just need to finish up before class ends. Too bad I can't throw up art.

Kyle tapped my arm. I turned to him only to realize that my hands were still clamped onto his mouth.

"Sorry, I was sidetracked," I confessed after removing my hands from his face. "But at least now you won't be in trouble, right?"

He gripped onto my shoulders, digging his short nails into my skin. His lips were slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something. Alas, nothing came out. With one final sneer, he turned back around and stomped to his seat.

I paced behind him with a giddy smile stuck on my face at my accomplishment. I helped him! Abigail might be mad at me for defending him but I couldn't resist when he probably wouldn't have done it if he knew about my situation. Maybe now we can be friends.

Once I sat down across from him, he clenched his jaw. "Why did you do that? After everything that happened?"

Knowing full well the consequences if I told him the truth, I choose to give a vague response. "I had to. Is that all right with you?"

"Idiot."

"If that's how I appear in your eyes, then so be it." I nodded in acknowledgement before grabbing my book. "Now please, get into position."

"Alright." His legs and arms were wrapped around the back of the plastic blue chair, just like I wanted. He was staring at me with a bored expression. Or at least, that's how it was on paper. When I looked up however, his head was tilted in what I assumed to be curiosity.

"Why did you do that?" he asked when I traced the outlining of his brown hair.

"I told you: I had to, that's all."

"What do you mean? You could've used this to your advantage and let me take the damage, but you didn't. I don't understand. That's weird. You're weird."

I chuckled from behind the book at his confusion. "I guess I am."