I was in the middle of writing my English paper, when my cell phone started to vibrate furiously. I snatched the phone from my nightstand and looked to see who was calling. I didn’t recognize the number. I flipped the cover open and spoke, “Hello?”

“Hey. Just Maddy?” said a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Jackson! Hey!” I said, trying to mask my excitement.

“Hey beautiful, how are you?”

Trying to hold back a giggle I said, “I’m good. What’s up?”

“Not much. I was just wondering...” He stammered, “Do you want to hang out tomorrow after school? There’s an art show I want to take you to downtown.”

“Sure! What time?”

“Ummm… I’ve got a car. So, we can just leave after school. I can have you home around eleven if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that should be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Okay, sweet. I’ll talk to you later Maddy.”

“Bye Jackson.”

The next day, school dragged on. Jackson wasn’t at my corner during lunch, and the attendance office said he had left school early. After what seemed like an eternity, the final bell rang. I went to the main entrance to see if Jackson was there. Suddenly I felt my cell phone vibrating in my purse. It was Jackson.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I’m on my way to get you. I’ll be at the main doors in five minutes.”

Before I could say goodbye, the dial tone sounded in my ears. I sighed and sat on a bench. Sure enough, five minutes later Jackson was speeding towards the school. I hopped into his beat up white truck and buckled my seat belt.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. You’ll understand why when we get to the art museum.”

“Okay…” I said reluctantly.

The rest of the car ride was silent, except for the heavy metal Jackson had blasting from the stereo. When we reached the museum, we found a parking spot and walked into the huge stone building. Jackson took my hand and led me through the masses of people, back to a small corner on the top floor of the building.

“This is why I missed lunch today.” He said quietly.

I gasped as I looked at the painting. It was of a girl. She was a brunette, with hazel eyes. She sat looking away from the artist’s view, but not enough to hide on side of her face. She had this look on her face that was so…so… lost. She looked so vulnerable, and yet she was so beautiful. For some odd reason, I could feel her anguish. It was as if I were her. Then I realized it was me. Jackson had painted me as the person I never thought anyone would see in me. He saw me as the scared girl I was.