Sunburn

“If only you applied yourself.”

“If only you paid more attention in class.”

“If only you stopped doodling in your notebook.”

The hum of the prehistoric monitor sitting before you is a familiar tune, yet one that doesn’t cease to fill you with dread. Every year, you’re met with the same song and dance about your troublesome grades, and every year, they think the best solution is to shove you into the computer lab for hours on end with the other unfortunate knuckleheads. It’s less of a summer school and more of an excuse to keep the “troublemakers” off the streets while the good little boys and girls get to actually enjoy their summer.

Admittedly, it could be worse. The geriatric dinosaur of a teacher always dozes off in the first 10 minutes of class, leaving the rest of you to your own devices. Everyone else has already formed their own little cliques that you have no desire to be a part of, so you’re content with messing around on MS paint for the better part of two hours.

You lean back in your chair, stretching out the pain in your lower back. Not your best work, but it’s the best you can do while drawing with a mouse.

“Cool drawing.”

“Hm?” Your head snaps towards the voice, being met with a soft pair of eyes and a modest bob cut, both of which are strikingly unfamiliar. “Oh. Thanks.”

 “I like the shading and stuff. Makes it really pop.”

“Yeah…” you murmur awkwardly, unsure of what to make of this interaction. The girl gives you a nod before looking back at her own computer, watching some dance video with the volume muted. Has she always been sitting next to you?

The bell rings before you can linger on the moment any longer, and you’re out the door faster than the teacher can put on her glasses correctly. Right before the computer lab exits your view, you catch a glimpse of the girl snapping a photo of the drawing on your computer.

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“Hey!”

As you enter the computer lab once again, you see the same girl from yesterday eagerly waving you down. You look behind you to see if she’s talking to someone else, but nope, her vibrant gaze and buck toothed smile are aimed right at you.

“Um, hey.” You take your usual seat, which, unbeknownst to you for God knows how long, is right next to hers. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I don’t know, shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” she shoots back.

Her strange response leaves you stunned in your chair, searching your memory for a face that matches hers. Maybe she’s an old friend from your childhood or someone you’ve worked on a project with and promptly forgot about. However, nothing comes up other than the sudden interaction from yesterday.

“I guess… I don’t know you?” you say to yourself more than her. She chuckles at you, finding amusement in your confusion.

“I’ll make it easy for you: No, we’ve never met before yesterday.”

You sigh, already exhausted by her odd behavior. “Okay…” You pull up MS paint, hoping she’ll leave you alone, but of course, your prayers fall on deaf ears.

“What are you gonna draw today?” she asks, leaning a bit too close for comfort.

“Uh, I don’t know yet,” you reply, “Whatever comes to me, I guess.”

“Cool.” She nods in contemplation. “So, is that, like, your creative process or—”

“Hey, you two!” the teacher croaks out. “No talking!” 

You give her an apologetic look, sinking deeper into your chair as the heat rushes to your cheeks from the unwanted attention. Hopefully the sudden spike in her blood pressure won’t keep her up longer than she usually is. The last thing you need is this octogenarian raisin breathing down your neck alongside the weirdo sitting next to you.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for her to knock out on her desk, albeit a couple minutes later than she usually does. A cautious glance to the side reveals the girl wearing big headphones, bobbing along to a music video on the computer, leaving you to doodle on the screen to your heart’s content.

You don’t really have a process for these things; if you’re given the luxury of time and solitude, maybe you’ll take a breath to figure out a clear picture to capture onto whatever canvas you’re working with. But on today of all days, you let the lines speak for themselves while you think about everything except drawing. What you had for breakfast this morning. What you’re planning on doing later. What the cute girl in your pre-calc class might be doing right now. Anything to pass the time that doesn’t involve more than a hint of effort to think about.

Oftentimes, the end product is a surprise to you. Whatever it is that you’ve been holding inside manifests itself onto the screen in a mess of lines and pixels. Last week, it was the piece of cake you had for dessert the night before. Yesterday, it was a character from a show you just started watching. Today, it’s…

“Is that me?”

A whisper from the side makes you jump in your seat. “W-what?”

“Your drawing.” The girl points up at your screen, wearing a thin smile and glint of intrigue in her eyes. “That looks like me.”

You scoff at her. “No, it’s not—” A single glance is all you need to learn the horrifying truth. Normally, anything you create with a mouse is subpar to what you can do with a pencil, but this - It’s way better than anything you could ever hope to produce on paper.

The soft texture of her hair, the gentle puff of her cheeks, hell, you even included the chunky headphones she’s wearing. You might as well have asked her to jump onto the screen for you.

“Th-that’s not… I-I didn’t…” you stutter, desperately searching for a reasonable explanation that you don’t have.

“It’s fine,” she says, “Crushes are perfectly normal for boys your age.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “I-I don’t have a…! I don’t even know you!”

She reaches a hand towards you, flashing a cheeky smirk at your expense. “Sunhye.”

“Well, Sunhye,” you sneer, ignoring her attempt at a handshake, “It’s not you. It’s, uh, some other girl.”

“Right.” She raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not convinced. “Maybe you should stick to drawing, I don’t think your acting career will get very far.”

“W-whatever.” You hurriedly try to close out the window, ridding yourself of the mess that you accidentally created, but a soft touch against your hand sends a wave of electricity through your body, freezing you in place.

“Wait! Let me take a pic first!” Sunhye exclaims, her hand on top of yours. She snaps a picture, giggling to herself, while you’re left to sit there like an idiot.

“This is pretty cool, you should consider doing this for a living,” she teases.

“Uh… Yeah. Thanks.”

The bell rings, and you’re out the door before she can say another word. Not even the summer sun can compare to the heat dancing on your cheeks.

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The monotonous drone of the computers is a lot louder today without Sunhye bugging you. Peace at last, you think - but five minutes into class, before the teacher has even begun to nod off, you find yourself stealing glances at the empty seat next to you, almost expecting her to suddenly appear out of thin air.

A weird feeling finds its home in the pit of your stomach as you stare at the blank screen in front of you, void of any inspiration. You even consider actually doing your assignments for once to pass the time, but you’re not that bored. You have access to the entire world at your fingertips, yet all you can seem to do is rest your head on the table and wait until the bell rings.

“Let’s get out of here.”

A familiar voice whispers lightly against your ear, you almost believe it to be a trick of the mind. And yet, the hand nudging against your shoulder feels very, very real.

You look up, finding yourself face to face with a soft pair of eyes and a modest bob cut. “What?” you ask her.