NEW FEELINGS

CHAPTER

Monday morning arrived like a dare.

Matilda stood in front of her locker, spinning the combination with fingers that felt disconnected from her body. As the mechanism of the locker clicked open on the last left spin while her mind replayed how close her and Kim had been yesterday.

"You're doing it again". Emile said as she appeared behind her with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"No am not-"

As the sound of the bell sounded through the hallway, students began to file into classrooms.Matila made her way to her first class to the day. She sat down and opened her textbook.

Across the room, the door opened again, and Mrs Zion called out, "Ah, our transfer student! Everyone, this is Stella. She is joining us for the semester. Find a seat anywhere."

Matilda looked up.

The girl who walked in was tall. That was the first thing she noticed. She was Tall in a way that the classroom desk look like thay wear built for children. She had dark hair which was pulled back into a clean bun, a sharp cheekbone, plum lips that made her smile so unique.

Her eyes moved across the room, slow and assessing and when they landed on Matilda, they paused. Just for a moment, but just long enough for Matilda to notice.

Then Stella was walking towards the empty sit besides her, sliding in with grace. Upclose, she smelled like freshly cut wood and something else, maybe cigarette smoke or incense. Her hands were long fingered, elegant, resting on the desk like they owned it.

" I'm stella". She said . Her voice was low and calm.

" Matilda."

Stella's mouth curve. " i know, Mrs. Zion pointed you out. she said you're an artist."

Something about the way she said artist made Matilda stomach tighten. Like it meant more than it meant. Like she knew something.

' I draw." Matilda said carefully.

" I' d like to see your work sometime."

The words landed in Matilda's check like bricks. She thought of her sketchbooks. she thought of all those anonymous women, all those naked curves, The thought of anyone seeing them was terrifying. The thought of this girl seeing them was something else entirly.

"Maybe." she manged to say.

Stella smiled widened, just slightly.Then Mrs. Zion started talking about cellular respiration, and the moment paased.

For the rest of the period, Matilda couldn't concentrate. With what happened to her with Kim yersterday and the close proimity of Stella next to her. She could feel Stella warmth radiating of her body and she could she the way her swearter pulled up across her shoulder when she wrote.

She was older. That much was clear as the class went on. Not by much though, anybe a 2 years. There was just this aura around her, as she has this stillness that younger people didn't have. She didn,t fidget or look aroung.She watched and listened and occasionally wrote something in a small leather notebook, everytime she moved, Matilda found herself tracking the motion like it was the only thing in the room.

After class, Matilda gathered her things slowly, as the class emptied.

"Walk me to my next class?' Stella asked. It wasn't really a question.

They fell into step together in the hallway. Stella walked slowly, delibrately, forcing Matilda to adjust to her pace. Students flowed around them like water around stones.

"What do you draw?" Stella asked.

" Everything. People, mostly."

" People." Stella voice amused." What kind of people?"

Matilda thought about lying. Thought about saying portraits, still life figures, something safe and boring. But something inside her made lying at this moment impossible. Made it feel like if she did she would be caught.

"Women." Matilda said quietly

Stella didn't respond immediately, They turned a corner, passed a row of lockers and then Stella stoped walking. They were in the art wing of school which at the moment was empty of students except them. Stella turned at entered the empty art studio and Matilda followed her in.

Stella walked past her into the room, slowly turning, taking it in. She stopped in front on an easel, where a half-finished charcoal drawing was clipped, it had a woman's back, the curve of her spine and shoulder blade, the suggestion of hip, and slight full curve of the chest.

"Yours?"

Matilda nodded, heart suddenly loud in her ears.

Stella studied it for a long moment, When she turned back, her expression had changed. Softer, somehow. More open. " You see things," She said queitly. " Things others people miss".

" That's just drawing."

"No.'' Stella shook her head. " That's seeing.There's a differnce." She took a step closer. Then another. Then she was standing right in front of Matilda, so close they could count each other eyelashes.

"I want you to see me."

Matilda's throat want dry."What?"

Stella's voice dropped." Draw me. Please."

The word please did something to Matilda's inside. It wasn't a command anymore. It was a request, almost desperate, the expression on Stella's face matched something raw underneath all that composure.

"Now?". Matilda's voice came out too high.

" Now, before anyone comes in."Stella's hands went to the hem of her sweater." I want you to draw me, the way you draw them."She nodded toward the sketchbook on Matilda stool, the one full of anonymous women."I want to be seen like that."

Matilda should have stopped her. Should have saud that was crazy, inappropriate, impossible. But Stella was already pulling her sweater over her head, and the the tank top followed and Matilda forgot how to breathe.

Stella stood bare from the waist up. Her skin so clean amd pale. Her breast full, heavy with dark n*****s that tighten in the cool air. The mole below her collarbone was exactly where Matilda remembered. The curve of her waist led down ti the waist band of her jeans and Matilda foolwed the line like it was the only important thing in the universe at that moment.

"Please."Stella wishered again. "Draw me."

Matilda's hands were shaking as she grabbed her sketchbook and charcoal. she didn't think. She couldn't think. She just looked, and then her hands began to move. The first lines were rough, the angle of Stella's shoulders, the fall of light across her chest, the way she held herself still, so exposed. Stella didn't move. She just stood gracefully in the sunlight, letting matilda look and capture her.

Minutes passed. The scartch of charcoal on paper was the only sound. Matilda fear dissolved into something else. She was focused. She had never drawn from a live model before, in front of her, and the difference was overwhelming. The was the light actually fell, not what she imagined. The tiny shift in Stella's breathing that changed the shadows. The real weight of her breast, the real texture of her skin.

She drew the mole. She drew the small scar near her jaw. She drew the way one shoulder was slightly higher than the other and the softness of her belly. She draw the sharpness of her hip bones, the vulnerable hollow of her throat. And Stella stood there and let herslef be seen.

When Matilda finnaly stopped, her hands cramped and her heart pounding, she looked at what she'd made. It was the best thing she ever drawn. The most alive.

Stella crossed the room in the three steps and looked down at the sketch book. For a long moment,she was slient.

" Thank you." Stella said softly.

Matilda didn't know what to say, she felt stripped too, somehow,even though she was fully clothed. Like Stella's had seen her too.

Slowly Sasha reached for her clothes. She dressed with her back to Matilda, giving her one last view of her spine and shoulder blade before they dissapeared under the fabric. When she turned back, her composure had returned, but her eyes were still soft.

" I will see you in class." She said. And then she was gone, the door closing quietly behind her.

Matilda stood alone in the studio, sketchbook in her hands, looking down at the woman she'd drawn. The woman that had begged to be seen. The woman who had trusted her.

She touched the charcoal lines gently, as if they might smear. As if they might be real.

When the other student started difting in, Mr Vince following behind them. Matilda closed her sketch book and tucked it away. But the image stayed behind her eyes, burned there. Stella in the sunlight and begging to be seen.

It was the first time Matilda had drawn a real girl. It wouldn't be the last.