Lines That Weren't There before

It was only the next day, but I always remembered the sound it made–paper tearing down the middle like her screaming that no one else but me heard. A sharp, ugly rrrrip that cut through the room louder than it should’ve. Mr. Perry, our math teacher with those dusty knuckles and a voice like a garbage disposal, snatched the drawing off Lily’s desk and just tore it to shreds. Didn’t say one word. Just ripped it up like it was nothing and dropped the pieces in the trash like he was throwing away his lunch wrappers. The weirdest part was that Lily didn’t cry or freak out or even blink–she just kinda froze, staring at her desk like she didn’t exist or something. A couple other kids were laughing, but she still just sat there and didn’t react. I sat a couple seats behind her, and I felt pissed off for some reason. It didn’t feel like another bad day at school. I don’t really know her that much, but still….it felt wrong. Really wrong.

When the bell rang, everyone just poured out like nothing happened. As for me, I just sat in my seat and I don’t even know why. Maybe I thought Lily would say something, but she just grabbed her stuff and left without looking at anyone. I was about to leave the room, too, but I felt like something was pulling me back and couldn’t move. Whatever was keeping me back, it stopped me right where the trash can was. I stared inside and I saw the ripped-up yet brightly colored pieces of Lily’s drawing. This may sound dumb, but the way Mr. Perry tore it up….it really bugged me. Like, it wasn’t just a drawing, you know? It was like he ripped her up. Then, I did something kinda stupid (and gross, in a way). I reached in the can and grabbed the pieces. They were half-crumbled and some of them had pencil smudges and were covered with whatever else came from the bottom of the can. As if reaching my hands into the can wasn’t gross and weird enough, I put the pieces into my backpack. My hands were actually shaking and I didn’t even know what I was gonna do with them. Maybe I would try taping or gluing them back together. Maybe I would try redrawing the picture from scratch, even though my art skills were crap. Whatever I planned to do with the pieces, I knew I didn’t want it to end like that.

I didn’t even take out the paper pieces yet when I got home. I went up to my room and just sat on my bed, thinking about the pieces and staring at the zipper like it was some kind of trapdoor. Finally, I unzipped my backpack, dumped them on my bed, and just sat there again. The pieces look more crumpled than before and the lines weren’t perfectly matched anymore. There was even a weird smell coming from the papers, a smell I couldn’t describe. But, even with all that, there was something kinda….beautiful about it. Like, you could still tell what Lily was trying to draw. There was a part of a face, some kinda hair swirly-thing, and some stuff in the background that looked like stars. It wasn’t just one of Lily’s doodles that I would catch her doing–it was art. The more I looked at it, the more it felt like I knew her, even though I didn’t. I wanted to fix it, I HAD to fix it. Or at least try to. But, what if I did fix it, then brought it back to her tomorrow and she thought I was some kinda weirdo? What if she thought I was mental because I dug around in the trash looking for her stuff? All I did was stare at the pieces like they were calling on me to do something. Next thing you know, I whispered to the pieces, “You shouldn’t have been thrown away.” And I started putting them back together.

I didn’t finish it all that night. I tried matching corners and flattening out the crumbles with my fingers, but some edges were too ripped to fit perfectly. There were also a few pieces missing, like they vanished between the trash can and my bed. I still stayed up all night just trying to make it complete again. Using a glue stick I hadn’t touched since eighth grade and some old Scotch tape, it looked….okay, I guess. Even still, the image was still there–barely hanging on, like it came back from the dead. To get a better view, I taped it to the wall and took a couple steps back to look at it. It was only after a couple moments that I got a weird chill across my body. I felt the picture was watching me. Not in a creepy, stalker-like way. Just… quietly. The longer I stared, the more I wanted to see what would happen next. It sounds crazy, but it felt like the pieces weren’t just paper. Lily was somehow part of her own art, as if she had a part of her that got torn up when Mr. Perry destroyed something that didn’t belong to him. Then, something I won’t forget anytime soon happened. One of the star-shaped pieces in the top corner started shimmering. It was only for maybe 3 seconds, but it was glowing in the darkness of my room. I leaned in closer for a better look, but there was nothing. No glow, just paper and tape. I told myself I was just tired from a long day and night, but if only that was all there was.

I barely got any sleep. All I could think about was that shimmer. It wasn’t like a reflection or a glare or anything I could explain. The only thing I knew was that shimmer felt….intentional. Like the picture wanted me to see it. As soon as I woke up the next day, I ran to the picture. It was still there, still taped to the wall. No glow. I was about to head to the bathroom, but I looked back ‘cause I noticed something…different. A piece of the drawing that I swear was missing last night was suddenly back in place. It was only a little chunk of the background, but it was a chunk that I couldn’t find–now it was there, like it was always there. Again, I was caught in that stare. I didn’t touch it or say anything. Just stared at it. Then, I carefully removed it from the wall and put it in a special folder. I was going to bring it to Lily. Not just to make her feel better, but to see what would happen next.

I treated that folder in my backpack like it was the Bible. Before Lily came to class, my knee kept bouncing and I constantly kept checking to make sure the drawing was still in the folder. Lily came in late–like always–and took her seat near the door. She didn’t look at anyone. As soon as Mr. Perry turned to the board, I took the folder out, got up, and walked to her. She looked up at me and I froze. I had no clue what to say. “Do I know you?”, she asked. I just held out the folder and said “This is for you.” At first, she didn’t say anything. She just looked at the folder like she knew she wasn’t allowed to touch it. Her fingers slowly opened the folder flap. There wasn’t any gasp or smile from her. Lily’s eyes just stayed locked on that drawing, and for a second, I thought I screwed up big time. But then she looked at me again—and REALLY looked at me—and said, in a quiet tone, “You found the rest?” The “rest”? What did she mean by that? She closed the folder, held it to her chest, and said “Thank you.” No smile, no explanation. That was it. She then turned her eyes to the front of class like nothing happened. But I felt it—something definitely happened. I sat back down, but the room didn’t feel the same. And neither did I.