Post by Peyton Sawyer on Jan 17, 2008 23:25:04 GMT -4
Peyton got to her house and walked in through her kitchen to the living room, and threw her schoolbag on the couch. She knew she needed to get her songs and albums ready for the upcoming evening, but she wanted to take a few minutes to sit down.
She picked up the stereo remote and flicked it on, cringing at the sudden loudness from the speakers, but getting used to it, once her ears adjusted, and leaving at the high volume of screaming music.
She dug her sketchpad out of her bag and lowered her head in the current sketch. The songs on the radio shifted and played through her head as she penciled in, and smudged, and rubbed the drawing before her. She looked up only a few times to glance at the clock.
Finally when it was just a half an hour before she was required by the almighty Brooke Davis to be at the beach she set her drawing down and headed off to her room to gather the music.
The sketch that lay on the couch was a confusing one. It showed a girl and a guy, with what looked like a very realistic tear down the center between them, but their arms were stretched out to each other, reaching, yet not quite touching. One of each of their eyes was focused on the other person while the other of the boy's eye was focused on an object in the distance, and the girl's other eye was focused down, on something at her feet, not quite drawn in yet.
Up in her room Peyton gathered albums, many she knew that Brooke would approve of, and yet others that were a sure bet to make Brooke roll her eyes, and tell her to change the song before she slit her wrists. Leaving on the same clothes she had been wearing, a t-shirt and skinny jeans, she clomped her way back down the stairs and headed for the door, stopping long enough to grab her bag and sketchbook.
She picked up the stereo remote and flicked it on, cringing at the sudden loudness from the speakers, but getting used to it, once her ears adjusted, and leaving at the high volume of screaming music.
She dug her sketchpad out of her bag and lowered her head in the current sketch. The songs on the radio shifted and played through her head as she penciled in, and smudged, and rubbed the drawing before her. She looked up only a few times to glance at the clock.
Finally when it was just a half an hour before she was required by the almighty Brooke Davis to be at the beach she set her drawing down and headed off to her room to gather the music.
The sketch that lay on the couch was a confusing one. It showed a girl and a guy, with what looked like a very realistic tear down the center between them, but their arms were stretched out to each other, reaching, yet not quite touching. One of each of their eyes was focused on the other person while the other of the boy's eye was focused on an object in the distance, and the girl's other eye was focused down, on something at her feet, not quite drawn in yet.
Up in her room Peyton gathered albums, many she knew that Brooke would approve of, and yet others that were a sure bet to make Brooke roll her eyes, and tell her to change the song before she slit her wrists. Leaving on the same clothes she had been wearing, a t-shirt and skinny jeans, she clomped her way back down the stairs and headed for the door, stopping long enough to grab her bag and sketchbook.
