I scan the paper, searching for where to begin. I think about what to draw..... hmm, something to give gramma for her birthday? No...I already bought her a card. but then, my hand begins moving the stubby pencil, without permission from my brain. It glides across the paper, leaving a silvery trail behind it. The pencil moves with such precision, that I am not sure that I am really controlling it. But by the time the drawing is done, I know it is mine. Its a drawing of me, standing with a tall, perfect figure, with spiked hair and dark eyes. His arm was around me...Tenor. I had a crush on Tenor since fourth grade, so it was obvious that I would draw us together. Looking at the drawing, I barely put any detail into myself...I was just sort of there. A plain girl, in a skirt, with her hair up in a pony tail. Nothing more.
"Anna! Time to wake up, baby!" Gramma calls into my room. I slip the sketch book under my bed, and close my eyes to pretend to sleep.
"Anna? Come on, baby, you need to get up, and get to school!" I hear her slippered feet walk down the hall way, and stop out side of my bedroom. Then the door knob turns, and gramma is standing right there. I open one eye a tiny bit, but just enough so that I can peek out of my eyelashes. Her silver hair is in curlers, and her short body is covered in a thing blue nightgown that hangs just below her knee. Her face is the color of cinnamon, and is creased in several places, showing her age, but also how often she smiles. But she must have seen my one open eye. She smiles, and walks to my bed.
"My, my. It looks like sleeping beauty has been only pretending to sleep." She laughs, and strokes a strand of my hair. I open my eyes.
"Morning, Gramma." I croak, as I sit up. I push the covers down, and Gramma sits beside me on the mattress. When she hugs me, I can smell lotion, and a warm, sweet scent. Pancakes. Gramma must have made breakfast already.
"Now, what were you doing awake? Are ya hiding somthing from your Gramma?" She asks. but she isn't serious. She knows that I draw in the morning, and once I even stayed up all night drawin with only the light from my phone. "Lets see what the latest product was, shall we, my Doodle Girl?" She says. My face suddenly flushes red, as she bends down, and pulls up the comforter, pulling out my sketchbook. Her eyes under her thick glasses examine the page.
"Well, well, well...who's this, Anna?" She says. But she doesn't point to Tenor. She points to me. I can feel my face going back to its usual color, as relief sinks in. She doesn't care about Tenor. She must just think its a fantasy drawing.
"It was supposed to be me, but it didn't quite come out right." I admit. She hands me the book.
"Well, thats because you weren't thinking about making it yourself."Gramma was a professional artist, before she retired.
"You were paying too much attention to makuing the perfect girl to go with the perfect guy, that you didn't make it yourself. Look-" she points to my skirt. "You hate skirts. You only wear them to church. Maybe you should have made shorts. And this-" she points to my head. "You don't have bangs. You haven't had bangs since you were five," She explains. And I am not offended. Gramma gives me constructive critcism all the time. But that is what makes you a better artist. But I only nod.
" I will be in the kitchen. Get dressed, because I already made breakfast." She tells me, as she walks towards the door. The door shuts behind her, and I stretch. Today is going to be a good day, I think.
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