Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Fine Art ❯ Blotched ( Chapter 1 )

My schedule had been crumpled into a ball, folded into a crane, and used in an improptu game of soccer. But no matter how many times I injured the bastard, each unfurling revealed a message of doome. "Art class? I have to take art class?" I slumped in my chair and smacked my head against my desk. Life always had a way of kicking me in my ass. I stared at the notebook that I collapsed upon and my eyes crossed as they tried to focus on the writing. Although I couldn't make out the words I knew what I had written: I love H. "Not fair."

"Don't feel so bad, Daisuke." Hikari said in a soft voice in an attempt to comfort me. "It's mandatory." She had waited patiently for me at the end of class and still sat, prim and proper, in her seat. Her schedule was placed neatly in her bag, not a scratch nor dent marring its surface.

We were as different as oranges and apples. Sometimes. We couldn't have been further apart about my schedule, though. She saw art class as a means to improve herslef and to encourage her creativity while to me it was an hour of alienation and failure. "Mandatory?" I groaned again. "Dammit! I knew it was." I paused and blinked before I lifted my head and stared blankly at her. "And mandatory means what again?"

She flipped her hair and shook her head, giving me a stern look that let me know that she disapproved of my tone and language. It didn't last long however and within a moment Hikari giggled and patted me on the shoulder. "It means everyone has to take it, Daisuke. I took it last semester with Takeru-chan. Miyako has to take it now so maybe she'll be in your class."

I rolled my eyes and slouched farther over my desk. "Great, that's just what I wanted to hear."

Takeru appeared in the almost empty classroom and made his way through the maze of desks to stand at Hikari's side, slipping his arm around her waist. It would have bugged me once, but for some reason, it hadn't affected me lately. I gave him a sort of half smile, and watched them carefully from over my folded arms.

They really were a cute couple. Someone had said to me once that they were "digi-destined to be together". It was dorky, but true. And was okay with me. It was, really. And I wanted them to be happy. Really. Just because I was miserable didn't mean everyone else in the world had to suffer. Besides, they made other people happy. They were a perfect pair, one that grandparents approved of and other teenagers tried to imitate. With the school's uniforms pressed and freshly laundered and each hair shining in place, they looked like they had stepped out of a fashion magazine. And with their loving smiles and soft embraces, it seemed like they had been written in a romance novel.

"Hey Daisuke, art isn't that bad." Takeru said with a smile, breaking the silence with a light laugh. "All you have to do is show up and you're guaranteed to pass."

"Well, that's a relief." I straightened and pushed myself out of my desk, grabbing my notebook and stuffing it in my bag before Hikari or Takeru noticed the latest love scribbles. "Because the gods know I have no artist talent in any way."

"Hey, I happen to like your stick figure people Dai-chan!" Chibimon chirped from my backpack, awakened from his nap by my packing. He had been quiet all day, behaving himself even when his partner wasn't.

We laughed together and I picked my back up to look at my Digimon. I was filled with an illogical happiness from his praise. "Great," I said with a grin, "My first fan!"

~~~

I glanced down at my schedule and then back up at the door. I had walked quickly, not wanting to be late, but not so quickly as to arrive early to my death. With a sigh, I stuffed the paper in my pocket and shoved the door open, peaking in cautiously. Inside, about a dozen kids looked up at me and then back at each other when they realized that I was an another boring underclassman. After scanning the crowd, I sighed with relief. No Miyako. Picking a deck away from the rest of my new classmates, I collapsed into my chair and waited for my teacher to arrive.

Some girl stood and ordered us to our feet. She was an upper classman and I could tell that she took her roll very seriously. I stood up along with the rest of the class and scanned the room for our teacher. A young woman with nervous eyes and a paint-stained shirt made her way to the front of the room. "Hello class," she said it as if it pained her, "My name is …" She trailed off, looking even more terrified.

I fought back an urge to snicker. Some teacher they got us. I always knew art class was a waste and that I'd end up spending the period throwing spitballs or doing something equally as immature, but did they have to make it so easy?

My teacher took a deep breath and managed to smile. "Call me Misono. You may be seated."

Well, that had been unexpected. My classmates twittered as we sat back down, but some rewarded her with friendly smiles. Offering her first name had been dangerous; not only in class but also with they school system. I respected that daring gesture, but only a little bit. Even I had learned to somewhat control my wild instincts and had fallen slightly in line. I still wore my goggles, much to the administrations dismay and disapproval. I'd be damned if I had to part with my trophy.

My eyes and thoughts returned to my teacher. Her hands twisted but she no longer looked like she was fighting an urge to vomit. "Now for the rules: You may sit wherever you please as long as you are able to see me. And, well, I believe that covers it. I will now describe our first project…"

I felt my hopes rise. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She was young and naive, maybe she'd let the class rule itself, or something cool like that. It seemed like the stick that all other teachers had stuffed in their asses was missing in her and I couldn't help but allow some tension relax out of my body. Maybe she'd give us cool projects, like going into the city to "study art." My ears perked and I waited.

"…Draw a chair."

My classmates remained politely silent but I couldn't resist moaning. My eyes rolled again and I sank lower in my seat and sighed. Stupid art.