Chapter 4-SKETCH*MEs…
603 Words
The next morning, the school bell hadn’t even rung before Tara opened her locker and that’s when she spotted it.
A folded piece of paper, slipped just inside, not taped or pinned, like a secret waiting to be found.
Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it.
It was a drawing.
Not just any drawing, but a delicate sketch of her sitting beneath the almond tree , the same spot where she had come to find quiet over the last few weeks. The lines caught the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the tired but soft curve of her lips, the way her eyes looked a little distant but hopeful.
It was beautiful.
For a moment, she just stared at it, heart pounding fast. She’d never been drawn before, never seen herself through anyone else’s eyes like this.
Her cheeks warmed with a mix of surprise and something else ,something like a quiet joy.
She folded the sketch carefully and slipped it into her bag, hoping Tyler wouldn’t see her holding it.
At lunch, the almond tree was their usual refuge. Tyler was there, alone, his book lying open but forgotten.
“Hey,” Tara said, sitting down beside him, her heart still fluttering from the morning’s discovery.
He looked up, blinking in surprise. “You came.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out the sketch. “This was in my locker.”
Tyler’s eyes widened for a second, then a rare smile softened his face.
“You found it,” he said, voice quieter than usual.
“Did you draw it?” Her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. You looked like a good subject.”
Tara grinned, holding the paper like a treasure. “It’s really good. I didn’t know you could draw.”
“I don’t. Not well.” He laughed softly.
They sat there in companionable silence for a moment, the breeze stirring the leaves overhead.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Tara said suddenly. “I like that you draw.”
He looked at her like she’d said something surprising.
“Why?”
“Because it means you see things. Not just the surface stuff everyone else expects.”
Tyler’s gaze dropped to his hands, fidgeting with the frayed bookmark he always carried.
“I like to see,” he said simply.
As days passed, the almond tree became their secret world.
Sometimes they exchanged sketches , Tyler capturing moments and emotions he thought too hard to say out loud, Tara responding with quiet smiles and small gestures.
One afternoon, he surprised her with a sketch of her laughing, something she rarely did when anyone was watching.
Tara stared at it, almost breathless.
“How do you do that?” she asked.
Tyler shrugged. “I notice. And I remember.”
That night, in her journal, Tara wrote:
“Dear you,
You draw things I didn’t know needed to be drawn the cracks in my smile, the heaviness I try to hide.
When I look at your sketches, I feel seen , not as someone who fixes things or carries burdens ,but just as me.
It’s scary to want that. But maybe it’s what I need.
Thank you for this quiet, for your drawings, and for being the one who sees without asking.”*
As the weeks slipped by, something was quietly shifting.
Tara found herself looking forward to their time together , the soft laughter, the unspoken understanding, the fragile hope growing beneath t
he almond tree.
And maybe, just maybe, Tyler was feeling it too.
- Writer
