Chapter 1
The sun rays reflected in my irises as I slowly stood up from my bed. My curtains have been removed, it was the first thing my mother always did when she entered my room in the morning. I noticed how the shadow of the woman who gave me life had been written on my wooden floor. I looked up, staring at the large window, watching the little kids try to trick their skateboards.
“Hello,” I said, and my words made her turn. The beautiful, sea-blue eyes dangled in my face, and the warm smile I love to watch every day was painted again on her face.
“Hello” my mother approached me and kissed my forehead.” I fried the eggs for breakfast. I guessed you could be hungry.”
I smiled and got out of my bed. I nodded at my mother, she headed for the kitchen, and I went to the bathroom to wash my face and teeth. The toothpaste burned in my mouth, as everybody feels every morning and evening. My eyes opened completely, and I woke up for another school day.
I went into the kitchen. Mom sat in the chair and cut a piece of bacon with a fork and a knife. She was silent and was eating slowly, as always. I sat in the chair opposite her. The plate with an aromatic breakfast stood in front of me, and I was eager to eat the tasty, typical English breakfast. I took the fork in my right hand, knife on my left and slowly began to cut the meat.
“It’s a lot sunnier than usual,” Mom said, trying to make a conversation.
“Yes,” I answered, and began to chew the bacon piece in my mouth, which was divine delicious. And we, the Americans, can make a delicious English breakfast, though.
I poured the heavy backpack on my back and was ready to go to school. It was about 10 minutes from my home and it was an advantage to me.
I noticed a mom who was leaning against the frame of my door with a smile on his face. She had folded her hands in front of her chest and was silent, staring at me.
“Why are you looking at me like this?” I asked her, laughing.
“It’s crazy how fast you grew up, baby,” she said, laughing sentimentally. “It was like yesterday when I first got you in my hands.” She approached me, wrapped my face with her hands and continued to smile beautifully. I responded with a faint, subtle laugh. Her eyes flickered in the light of the burning sun that was going through the blinds of my big windows.
“Aria,” she said, and took my palm in hers. “I love you.
“I love you too, Mom.” She laughed and kissed my forehead.
“Come on. Run for school!
I nodded and left my room. I was ready for another boring, school day, in which I would have asked the History teacher not to pick me up on the board.
I crossed the door of the school I am studying in. School of Arts. Did I mention how much I love to draw? Most of my sketches of celebrities, animals, and so on are in the drawing room. I’ve painted with colored pencils…my soul on the white sheets. So many sheets of paper are drawn from me, to which I have painted my thoughts, read favorite books and favorite songs. Through art I describe myself in a way that no one else can describe me.
On the second floor corridor I noticed my friend Sofia, who carelessly held the folder of Chemistry textbooks, heading for the cabinet. The beautiful chestnut hair, raised in line. The high cheekbones, stained with coral pink blush. Dark pink lipstick on the thick lips. Typical signs about Sofia.
“Hey” I greeted her, and she hugged me hard. She was ready to drop her folders, full with textbook, but she did not.
“Hey,” she said, laughing. “I’m sick of Chemistry, honestly,” said my friend, spinning her hair on her middle finger, as she always does.
"I have ... art. Two hours."
"Sweetheart. My Thursdays always have to start with Chemistry. The good thing is that they do not make me paint atoms and ions." I laughed. Sofia only smiled warmly, the sound of the annoying bell separates us and she ran to the stairs to the third floor. And as I guessed ... she stumbled across the stairs, landing on the ground. I could not restrain my laughter. I’ve heard the voice of Sarah, who laughs like a kettle on a hob.
“She can stumble on smooth surfaces.”
“You’ve never been so right.” I replied, continuing to look at the stairs. “That’s right. I’m always right.” I looked at her, Sarah looking at her golden colored hair from her shoulders. The pale pink lipstick stands intact on her lips.
“Better not to be late for German. The teacher will kill me.” She says, presses me to her arms for a brief embrace, and flies to her room.
"I want to feel the emotion in today’s drawing. I want to feel what you feel when you sketch the chosen image. I want you to spill your imagination.” The master of fine art began with these words from the morning. I looked up, my head slightly hurt. Again he has decided to give us a free subject-something that is not happening very often. I decided to paint some famous person again. Johnny Depp. She was my favorite actor since I remember. I love painting it, transferring the image to the sketchbook.
The teacher walked slowly around the room, his hands were behind his back.
“Draw, students!” He spoke suddenly. “Carry your imagination on the soft paper. I tried not to listen and just draw. I had targeted the proportions perfectly and now it was time to sketch. I did not need to look at his picture-I remembered every detail of his face. It was so perfect for me.
I looked at Isabel’s sketch. She had decided to paint a girl with butterflies in her beautiful, curly, blond hair. The sketch was very beautiful. She was almost ready to paint her hair.
“It’s beautiful,” I said with a warm smile. She did not hear me, her gaze focused on the sheet. The mechanical pencil stands just millimeters from the nose and in her right hand.
“Did you say anything?” She laughed impatiently, and looked at me for a fraction of a second.
“It’s beautiful,” I repeated. She did not answer me, but I guessed she was touched by my words on the blistering redness on her cheeks.
One reason why I love drawing is that I have freedom. I can always do what I love and which is my passion, not humming chemical concepts, and so on. When I transfer my imagination onto the paper using a pencil and a pen, markers or colored pencils ... I can be myself, what I am. I hate studying, shit, I love to paint.
And the last bell striked and I decided to go to the dining room. Maybe today there would be something delicious. And so it turned out. The macaroni with cheese, delivered with a green salad, were in my tray. I licked my lips impatiently. I noticed Sofia, Sara and Isabel on the table at the far end. My three friends were eating calmly. At that moment Isabelle noticed me and waved my hand to join them. I did so-I passed the other teenagers in the dining room, got to the table and took my place.
“I could not stop watching your sketch.” Isabelle said, and I only smiled warmly at her words.
“What was she drawing?” “Sophie mumbles with a mouth full of pasta with cheese.
“Johnny Depp.”
“Does his background of the Unknowable lead?” Sara assumed and was right. I laughed softly and nodded, a sign of agreement. I looked at my food and began to eat calmly while I watched my friends. The three girls in front of me, with whom we talked calmly.
We didn’t stop talking about anything - music, painting, movies, and so on. It was so enjoyable with them, it was so fun. It was so nice to have people you can trust. People you know you can count on.
At this point my phone rang. I took it and read the name “Mum” on the screen that made me smile.
“When are you coming back, sunshine?” Her voice came to me, making me laugh kindly.
“In a couple of minutes, mum”
“All right, honey. I have something to share with you when you get home.”
“Of course. I’ll be home after a while.”
“Good, dear. See you soon!”
“See you soon.”
I was walking home. It was warm, like a typical April day. The warm air waved my hair, making me smile warmly. The traffic was fierce on that particular day. Everything was so lively.
I went into my house. Mom stood next to the coffee machine, waiting for her coffee to get ready.
“Hello, Mom,” I said, approached closer to the woman who gave me life and hugged her tightly, and she pressed me to her arms, and lit my face with tender kisses.
“Hey, baby”
“You wanted to talk with me about something.” I whispered and sat down at the kitchen table, and Mum followed me, holding her glass of aromatic coffee.
“Well ... I wanted to.”
“What is it about?” “My mother sipped a big sip of her drink, and after a moment silence said,
“I received a job offer in Seoul, which I could not refuse” I froze in my place.
