Lines of a Dream

The courtyard slowly emptied as students were ushered back to their classrooms. Noah followed the flow of his classmates, keeping his head low, his fingers clutching his bag strap so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart was still racing from the assembly; every word the principal had said about Henry replayed in his mind like a broken record. Dedicated, outstanding,excellent .Everything I'll never be.

As they neared the classroom, Noah couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. It was subtle at first—a prickle at the back of his neck—but then he noticed a girl from his class glancing at him from a few steps ahead. She had reddish hair tied into a messy ponytail, strands of it falling into her face as she turned away when he caught her gaze. Her brown eyes were sharp, curious, and for a moment, Noah wondered if she was looking at him out of pity.

Why would she even care? he thought, ducking his head and quickening his pace to avoid further eye contact.

---

Back in the classroom, the students settled into their seats as Mrs. Hargrove walked to the front. She clapped her hands lightly to get their attention.

"Alright, class," she began, her warm smile returning. "Since we have quite a few new faces this semester, I thought it might be fun to start with introductions. Don't worry," she added quickly, noting the nervous glances exchanged around the room. "You don't have to say much—just your name and a little something about yourself. Let's start from this side."

Noah's stomach sank. Introduction?Seriously? He gripped the edge of his desk, his palms damp. His throat felt tight just thinking about it. As the first student began speaking, Noah tried to focus on their words, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat.

One by one, the students introduced themselves, and with each turn, Noah's anxiety grew. His mind raced: What should I say?Should I mention I like drawing?No,they'll think it's weird.What if I stutter?What if they laugh?

He barely noticed the others' words. His turn was getting closer. Three students away. Two. One.

Finally, Mrs. Hargrove smiled in his direction. "And you? Go ahead."

Noah swallowed hard. His throat felt dry, his voice caught somewhere between panic and silence. He stood slowly, his legs stiff, and tried to force the words out. "I… uh… I'm N-Noah Anderson," he started, his voice shaking.

He felt the weight of the entire class's gaze on him, especially hers—the girl with the reddish hair. She was watching him again, her head tilted slightly, her expression curious but kind. It only made it worse.

"I… I just transferred here," he continued, his stutter more pronounced with every word. "And, um, I like… uh… drawing…"

A few students chuckled softly at his stuttering—not cruelly, but it still hit him like a punch. His face burned, and he quickly sat down, his heart racing as Mrs. Hargrove moved on to the next student.

Great job, Noah, ,he thought bitterly.You've made a fool of yourself on day one.

---

The first half of the day passed in a blur. Noah barely registered what Mrs. Hargrove was teaching; his mind was stuck on his awkward introduction. By the time lunch rolled around, he decided to stay behind in the classroom. The cafeteria would be packed, noisy, and full of people he didn't want to face.

He pulled out his sketchbook, flipping to a half-finished drawing he had started the night before—a dragon perched atop a crumbling tower, flames curling from its jaws. His pencil moved across the page, adding the scales on the dragon's tail, the jagged stones of the tower. For a moment, he felt a flicker of calm.

"I knew it! "

The sudden voice startled him so badly he almost dropped his pencil. He looked up to see the girl with the reddish hair standing at his desk, grinning like she'd just uncovered some huge secret.

"You're Noah Anderson, right?" she asked, her brown eyes lighting up.

Noah blinked, unsure how to respond. He nodded slowly.

"I thought so!" she said, pulling up a chair without waiting for an invitation. "You're the guy from the regional art competition last year, right? The one who drew that insane painting of, like, a phoenix rising out of a forest fire? You got first place, didn't you?"

Noah stared at her, stunned. He hadn't thought anyone would remember that. "Uh… yeah, I guess," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"I knew it!" she repeated, leaning forward. "I was there too! I got second place." She laughed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "When I saw your piece, I was like, 'Welp, guess I'm not winning this one.' It was amazing."

"Thanks," Noah said quietly, glancing down at his sketchbook.

"Oh, is that what you're working on now?" She leaned closer, peering at the drawing. "Whoa, that's incredible. The detail on the dragon's wings… and the shading on the stones… You're seriously talented."

Noah felt his face heat up under her praise. He wasn't used to anyone—let alone a complete stranger—talking to him like this.

"I'm Maiya, by the way," she said, extending a hand. "Maiya Patel. Nice to meet you."

Noah hesitated before shaking her hand briefly. "Nice to meet you," he muttered.

Maiya didn't seem fazed by his awkwardness. She kept talking, her voice bright and enthusiastic. "So, do you only draw fantasy stuff, or do you do other things too? I mostly do character designs, but I've been trying to get better at backgrounds. They're so hard, right?"

Noah nodded, unsure how to keep up with her energy. Maiya didn't seem to mind; she filled the silence with questions and observations, her excitement about art practically radiating off her.

Eventually, she stood up, stretching. "Well, I'm starving. Let's go grab some food before lunch is over."

"Uh, you go ahead," Noah said quickly. "I'll… I'll go later."

"Nonsense! Come on." Maiya grabbed his arm and gently tugged him toward the door. "You've got to eat, and I've got more questions about your process."

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur. During class, Maiya kept glancing at Noah, occasionally sketching something in her notebook and smiling to herself. Noah tried to focus on the lesson, but he couldn't shake the feeling of her eyes on him. It was… strange. No one had ever taken such an interest in him before.

As the final bell rang, Noah packed up his things, ready to leave as quickly as possible. But before he could slip out the door, Maiya appeared in front of him, her ponytail bouncing as she hurried over.

"Hey, Noah!" she called, stopping him in his tracks. "Wait up!"

He turned, unsure what she wanted.

"Can I get your number?" she asked, grinning. "Y'know, in case I have more questions about your art—or if you ever want to collaborate or something."

Noah blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… sure," he said quietly.

Maiya handed him her phone, and he awkwardly typed in his number, his hands trembling slightly.

"Thanks!" she said, taking the phone back. "See you tomorrow, Noah!"

She waved and walked away, leaving Noah standing there, his heart racing. For the first time in a long time, he felt something unfamiliar—a flicker of hope