Chapter 2

I guess you kinda see where I am going with this.

He is like an All American, and I am like the chubby outcast. He is what everyone wants, and I am what everyone avoids. Sounds simple right? Well... how wrong of you.

Like I said I can see the ugly in people. It is like this crazy sense of another dimension, maybe I am insane- or maybe most people ignore it now.

Looking at him from an angle- his features are cut as is his shape. He is tough and sharp. I fiddle with my corset a bit, and enjoy the tightening sensation of my middle. I am not fat, just chubby. i would probably look thinner if I were tanned like all my peers. I have purple eyes, thanks to silver lined contacts. They are naturally brown, but dont tell anyone. Like I said... chubby. I am a size 20 in womens, which means I normally have to shop at that odd in between portion of the store- between the mega fatties and the bones. How easy mega fatties and bones have it... then know to go clear to the left or right side. I have to squirm my way into the middle, and wear larger bottoms. I am a pear in the sense of a sweet hourglass shape. I accentuate this more by binding my middle with a corset of lace and real bone. I normally wear combat boots, with little pockets on the sides, and big heavy jeans. I have drops of silver all over from very thin wire I have braided and beaded by hand. My hair today is straight, like the Jock God in front of me. I can tell he probably struts around nude in the locker room, while his nerdy counter parts change in the stalls due to his over powering masculinity. Some girls are afraid of this, but I know... he is scared on the inside to make a misstep. He always follows the leader, or who ever has a keg on their shoulder.

For a moment his angels inside of his angles stop time, and he locks eyes with me. I see him smile a slight, then blink and turn his attention back to the tanned stick being in front of him. Ha... called it, she is a blond.

I play that moment a few times, did he really just scan my whole body? Normally people look me in the face as they are to nervous to point out how much I stick out.

After a few more rounds I can see the paintings of trees and flowers disappear. I watch as my landscapes are bought and sold. I even offer a special deal, cash in hand means no tax. I see all these other artists struggling to sell one picture, while I am near having one left to sell. It is easy... basic supply and demand. You want a picture that can be found in a hotel, an over priced hotel picture- I am your girl. I can crank those out hourly.

I start to get ready to close up shop, as this elderly woman in front of me continues her story about growing up in Russia and how she loved Poppy flowers so.

"100 bucks for the Poppies..." It sounds like someone was nervous, and excited all at once.

"Excuse me? I was here first young man!" Her little old lady cat claw fingers, dipped in gold match her scratchy voice.

I turn to see Him, with a big bill in his hands. The same hands he used to hold onto that beer earlier. he sticks the bill out at me and the old lady ruffles her feathers, getting ready for a show down.

"Sorry cowboy, ladies first." I kinda scan him up and down in a rude way, maybe now he will know I see how spineless he is.

The older lady smiles and hands me 78 dollars for the picture. As I put the cash into my lock box, I notice he is still there.

"So you can paint anything... right?" He has stood a little taller, his voice is still shaky like jello.

"Well... I guess so. I am an artist." I quip as I put my hand on my hip.

"Paint your numbers on a canvas." Suddenly louder and more confident then he or I had expected he blasts these words out into the world.

Before I had time to react I started to do as he had asked. I grabbed a pen and a napkin. I then cleared my head of all the nonsense and wrote-

"Get Lost, Cowboy."

I crumpled it and threw it at his stupid shirt, tossing my lace and hair in a flippant manner.