A/N: name pronunciation:

Alys (uh-lease), other common spelling is Elise. (Again- NOT pronounced Alice. Pronounced Elise/uh-lease/Alys)

Hayden (Hey- Den)

You are about to read a story that still needs to be edited. Please be aware and understanding, I will get to them when I have a chance. I am dyslexic, please be patient with me.

Name change as of 03/24/2020. Previous name "Just Smile and Nod"

Cover photo designed and digitally painted by me.
Thank you

P r o l o g u e

I draw the people I hate at school. I see the masks everywhere, just walking down the halls with their falsified personalities; their projected smiles and charms... even though secretly, behind each other's backs, they're cheating and spreading rumors and destroying the other's social status. And then I see them in the bathrooms, crying and puking up the last of what is already nauseating cafeteria food; because word got around that they gained weight or that they didn't have a perfect body.

And there I sit, watching point blank, as this disturbing and chaotic institute houses all these hormonal schizophrenics, still convincing us all it's a high school and not Asylum. Those fabricated and altered personas around me seem to be never ending. Perhaps directors and movie producers should come here for their casting roles. Our drama club sucks ass, but the fake smiling masks and happy giddy girls that walk arm in arm are the masters of the deceiving world.

Of course I see through all of this, not that it's that hard, because I've been here from start to finish. I've grown up with these persons around; have watched their ever changing evolution of lies. Some harmless, but most nauseating none the less. They all seem so scared to show who they truly are- which is why I draw them exactly as that. I draw you because I can see you...

The noise that surrounded me just increased louder as people tried talking over each other in order to be heard. A dozen voices mixed into the air and only slight random words distinguished themselves against the rumble.

I heard it all, bits and pieces of it, but enough to know what was circulating the school. Most of it was fake; Shannon didn't get a breast augmentation. Her father might be rich and spoil her, but their relationship was becoming strained. Why wouldn't it? He was disturbed that his daughter was becoming replicas of his never ending young and lustrous girlfriends.

And even worse, that his own very friends were looking at his daughter in a whole new light now that she evolved her persona lasciviously.

In reality, her bra was padded with those gelatin balloon enhancers that were sold in the lingerie department. I heard her friends freaking out one day because one ruptured and was leaking thanks to a flying locker, and her left breast shrunk down to a B.

A big difference when the other one's a D.

I shifted my weight to my palm and continued darkening the eyes. Max barely made the Football team which surprised me. Though he'd been playing football since he was born... he wasn't the smartest. And yet somehow he managed an act of God and passed his history test, letting every coach and fellow player sigh in relief.

My pencil glided over some shapes, darkening the color and making it stand out greater against the white of the paper. My blonde hair cascaded down and lay on the edges of my paper, just out of reach as my pencil glided by. I made a mental note that Marcus had cheated on Emily again. For the eighth time.

But that was all the little trivial stuff; the mundane stuff that even I felt reluctant to draw. I wanted more; I patiently waited for word again of the fundraising events that always seemed to come up short. Of the faculty sneaking around to the copy-rooms in their attempt to re-code the cheat sheets; always wanting to have the best grades in their class in hopes a promotion was on the horizon.

But what I truly craved- above all else- was the true self of those around me. Not the cheating, not the fake rumors... not the pathetic babble that could be heard in the air.

No, what I wanted was hidden in their actions, subliminal movements and messages that meant so much more. What I wanted was the thing that was never meant to be known. And where rumors and gossip helped fuel the basis of each drawing... it was that dark secret my own eyes deciphered that would cast a replica below in a jumbled mess of graphite lines.

I drew what they never wanted to be seen. I drew the truth of who they were.

A voice was trying to be heard over the noise and I glanced up to see our small little man of a teacher, trying to bring order to the room, despite the fact no one was really listening. My eyes slowly traced back down to my paper again and my hand resumed its work as it sketched new angles and lines. 

I heard more noise and my eyes glanced under their lashes to see that Shannon had indeed blessed us with her presence. Of course all word of her breast augmentation stopped, but I knew she didn't mind the attention. The teacher took advantage of the quick stop of chatter and stuttered his voice into existence. "Stu...students... students please..."

Everyone mumbled and groaned as they knew the lesson was about to begin. Shannon made her way towards her friends whom my cynical mind named the catfish gang. I watched those abnormally plumped glossy lips and those soundly blank eyes; all too like my gold fish back home, Sir Henry.

Shannon sat down next to those girls while leaning back a little more than necessary; her breasts seeming to press tighter into her shirt. The atmosphere of the room seemed to change subtlety. I could almost taste the heavy breaths of the males bedside me; I could almost hear the swallowing throats of those lost to her trance.

"Students if you will..."

I gently put down my pencil before closing my sketch book.

My eyes blankly absorbed those departing images;

She tried to hide her face which bore no makeup, washed away, as she floated just beneath the water's surface. Her father was calling to her while he cried within his boat, but as he tried to reach into the water to save her, he froze at her distorted image dancing under the liquid's movement. Shannon just looked too much like the lustrous sins he sought in others.  He couldn't grasp what felt like an image of his mistress. What happened to his little girl? He couldn't save her from what she choices she had made, from the actions she had done.

Shannon knew this; knew how others saw her, but she couldn't manage to save herself... to change herself. This was the only way to be seen.  Overly sexualized was the only way to be noticed. Even if she drowned under the weight of it.

It was her fake bra that was gushing water amongst the school beneath- drowning all the oblivious and idiotic students against its depths. Only the catfish gang seemed to swim and relish in liquid that kept them afloat. Only those girls could thrive within the misery of another.

All the other people had bubbles escaping their lips as the last of the oxygen left their bodies and rose to the surface. The air filled spheres rose through the mess and soon coordinated themselves into thought bubbles; the ending breath becoming what was truly a waste of their last thought.

"Her breasts look so real, she's so lucky,"

There they sunk to the bottom of their own ignorance- shadowed by a disturbed and regretful father.

My eyes curve over one other sole survivor who I draw randomly and regularly because of my relative interest for him. I've come to understand that he never truly gives in to the rumors amiss because he never fits in with anything but his imaginary friends and old star wars figurines.

The page finished folding over the loner kid- the boy who hides himself under the bleachers but yet no one knew who he was; we only saw him at assemblies. But on my paper, he gathers the bodies in a happy glee... new friends, I suppose, for his lonely world where no one ever seems to be alive.

The book lay shut and all reality faded into this fiction before me, and I heard its verses ring aloud as whispers quietly rose; "I wish I was Shannon, god she's got like everything going for her... it's not fair."

I thought about the girl in my notebook who had no false eyelashes or tanned skin to hide behind.

Did I ever mention I drew people for who they truly were? Yes? Then we don't have a problem.

Welcome to my life.

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A/N: Yes? No? Should I keep going?

Also if you find any grammar or spelling errors, please let me know. I would love any chance to improve this and your help, no matter how minor, would be greatly appreciated.

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