permanent marker [leah]

[Manuel Delaney]

Manuel gazed up at the expanse of white wall, grinning to himself. Perfect. He had a pencil in his bag; the wall wasn't all that big. He could work with this. Glancing around for cameras, a habit he had picked up a long time ago, when he'd first started graffiti-ing, he pulled out his pencil and began to draw, long, strong lines, faint against the white paint on the bricks. It would be nice if, maybe, he could get hold of some paints, or better yet, spray cans, and come back and colour it in sometime. That wasn't likely, though. They'd find it by the end of the day, and have it painted over, and cart him off to the headteacher's office or something. Whatever they did as punishment here. Stopping occasionally to check for the sound of security, or to brush hair out of his face, he worked quickly, soon covering the wall in a wide array of fine, grey lines which soon began to take on a shape.

As he worked, Manuel wondered what they would do. The wall was in a part of the school that was rarely used; the back of the art studio. It was fitting, really, that he was doing artwork - and it was artwork, not the usual shitty graffiti kids his age went in for - on the back of this particular building, but he doubted they'd let it go because of his choice of wall. He was breaking the rules, after all, something he excelled at. Licking his thumb, he used it to rub out a line, resulting in a dark grey smudge. Crap. All the more reason to try and get a hold of some colours to cover that sort of thing up. He could picture it when it was done, red and yellow feathers and a blue and grey face.

Finally, he was done. Smiling, he stepped back, viewing his creation with a satisfied air. Perfect. If they painted over that, they'd be destroying a work of art. Maybe they'd give him his own walls to work on here? Probably not, but it was worth hoping for. It would keep him off school property, after all, so it would be a worthwhile investment. Maybe he'd suggest it to his art teacher. Once he'd met them, and worked out what his chances of rejection were, that was. Peering critically at the face, his smile faded, his face falling. It looked like MaryAnna. Sighing, he stepped forwards and added feathered eyelashes, shading in the eyes gently, and stepped back again. It was the spitting image of her, now. Her dark eyes, arched brows, full lips... Manuel sighed again. He missed her. He missed her, his brothers and his sister, his parents, his friends. He missed his whole life. Still, he could write home, which was a small consolation.

Stepping back again, he eyed his creation proudly. Perfect. Except... he stepped forwards once again, shading in a few tiny sections with his pencil. MaryAnna had always teased him about that: saying he didn't care about anything except his paintings, when it came to them everything had to be perfect. He'd simply laughed, knowing it was true; he was never fully satisfied with what he drew, always finding something to fault. Mary had said that he was too harsh, and took it too seriously, and he remembered joking that he had to have something to take seriously. Grinning at the memory, Manuel folded his arms, still gazing at the now-decorated wall. It was more or less done; with paint, it would be beautiful. He wondered if they'd let him carry the paint out of the studio, but doubted it. Too many kids here had probably tried to drink it for them to risk letting it out of their sight. Maybe he could borrow some coloured pencils off another student, but they'd probably have got to it and painted over it by the time he'd managed to approach someone. It was doomed to stay in shades of grey until someone painted over it again, then.

Manuel smiled, knowing that even if that happened, he would be back. It just gave him a whole new canvas on which to work. He could start afresh, do even better next time. They could paint over it again, and he'd come back another day, fill it with colour and drawings. It was just a matter of who gave up first, and he knew for sure that it wouldn't be him. He could be stubborn about things like that; he saw something he wanted to draw on, he drew on it, fuck the consequences. It was a dare-devil attitude that, while generally considered very cool to have, got him into a hell of a lot of trouble, and didn't do anything to aid his getting out of it again. Ah, well. He'd soon have the hang on this place, then he'd know exactly what he was doing.

Checking his watch, his heart jolted when he saw the time. Holy fucking- two and a half hours? He looked back at his drawing, and smiled grimly. Time always got away from him when he was working. He was surprised no-one had stopped him already. There were no cameras, and no-one knew him well enough to notice that he was missing... he grinned. Looked like he had found somewhere peaceful, somewhere to himself. Settling himself down, he lay back on the grass, hands under his head, staring at the grey-blue sky. Maybe this place wasn't going to be as bad as he'd first thought. He had a place with no cameras, he had a pencil, and he had a dorm to himself. It was a long way from home, but then, if he couldn't be home, he was content to be here for now.



Click to see what he drew. [And pretend it's in slightly less detail]
And the colour version.

[Leah Wright]

Leah lay on the grass, her sketchbook and pencils abandoned beside her in favour of the warm(ish) sun, unaware of the artist working just around the corner from her. It was nicer than being in her dorm, anyway; no roommates to irritate her. No Layla or Tylar, unfortunately, also meant that there was no Rio: he wouldn’t know where she was. It was good to be apart from him sometimes, though, she decided. He’d think she was a stalker or something if she hung around him all the time, and besides, she didn’t want to be around him constantly. Well...maybe she did, but she was sensible and knew it wasn’t really feasible.

She looked around lazily, seeing nobody near her, and closed her eyes, one hand clutching a pencil in case her art teacher arrived, so she could jump up and pretend to be drawing something. Some stupid homework... She and Tylar had bitched about it together, the first time that Leah had ever had a normal conversation with the girl. She wondered what Tylar was going to paint, debating whether she should draw Rio for hers. No; because she was a crap artist and it wouldn’t do him justice, and she didn’t want to ask him to sit still for ages while she tried to perfect it. It would just be embarrassing, anyway, when he looked at it and saw how awful she was at drawing.

Quietly, she began to sing to herself, as she always did when she was alone. A few times, she opened her eyes quickly, checking that nobody had crept up on her -although the last time that had happened, it had been Rio, and she didn’t object to how that had turned out- but didn’t look around, too comfortable on the grass to bother moving her head. It was just so comfortable, and she didn’t get much sleep at night, too busy having nightmares... Her breathing slowed as she drifted asleep, her last thoughts hoping that nobody was going to come along and shake her to wake her up, which was something that always freaked her out.

---

She woke up half an hour later, lying frozen for a minute, waiting until she was sure that she knew Mark wasn’t there to open her eyes. There was the split-second of fear that came whenever she did, certain that she’d see him, standing above her, and Leah breathed out gratefully when she say that she was alone. Her watch was back in her dorm, so she had no idea what the time was, but knew it couldn’t be too late due to the position of the sun in the sky; also, she rarely slept for more than one hour uninterrupted by nightmares.

Standing up, she brushed off her jeans and picked up her sketchbook and pencils, cradling them to her chest and walking back in the direction of the main building. As she walked, she searched for topics for her painting; nothing came to mind. She almost walked straight past Manuel and his artwork, only noticing because she almost stood on the boy, lying on the grass just like she was a minute earlier. There was an awkward second where she wobbled, almost falling on top of him, but Leah managed to stop herself, blushing. ”I’m sorry! I didn’t...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the wall near the two, an eye gazing back down at her.

For a minute, she just stood, blinking, before turning back to the boy. ”Um... Is that meant to be there?” She was vaguely concerned that she was hallucinating a giant face on the side of a wall, and tentatively, she stepped closer to it. With one hand, she touched the bricks, her hand just resting on the woman’s chin. Turning back around, she looked at Manuel, seeing the pencil lying beside him and putting two and two together. ”Holy f-, um... Did you draw that? It’s...” With some embarrassment, she looked at her closed sketchpad. What was the point in someone like her doing art when there were kids like this about?

Leah laughed quietly to herself, smiling at him. ”It’s amazing. You’re an artist, right?” The answer to that was obvious.

singing and wearing.

[Manuel Delaney]

Manuel stretched, staring up at the sky, and twirled his pencil around in his fingers. A breeze ruffled his hair, and he breathed in deeply, the smell of grass filling his nostrils. Well, it was a lot different from home, where the smells had all been car exhaust and fast food. He could even hear birds, which was more or less a whole new experience for him. Birds didn't feature much in city life, and Manuel wasn't the type to go on long, soul-searching trips out into the countryside. His fingers fumbled with the pencil and it dropped. He turned over, grabbing for it in the grass, getting considerable amount of mud on his hand as he did so. He was lying on a hill, which meant that the pencil rolled away from him fast. Manuel watched it go, an expression of resignation on his face. Crap. Sighing, he rolled onto his stomach and half-crawled, half-dragged himself down the hill to pick up his pencil. Once he had it, he pulled himself back up the small hill - more of a slope, really - and resumed his previous position.

Then something crashed into him. His eyes opened - had they even been shut? He hadn't noticed - to see a dark-haired girl standing over him, looking like she was about to fall. Manuel rolled out of the way, and pushed himself upright, far too quickly. For a brief second, he stood there, blinking like an idiot, blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy. The feeling passed quickly, however, and he turned his gaze on the dark girl, frowning slightly. She obvious wasn't staff: she was far too short, dressed like a teenager, and clutching a sketchbook. Another art student? Probably. He bent down to shove his pencil in his bag, still watching Leah warily. She was talking to him, apparently very impressed by his work. He gave her a brief smile. "Nah, but I got bored,"

Brushing grass off his back, he eyed her cautiously as she touched his creation. "Careful, you might smudge it," he told her warningly. Then he answered her question, eyes still following her like a hawk's. "Yeah. I'm new; only arrived today. What about you, artist?" He nodded to the sketchbook under her arm, folding his arms and wandering slightly closer, to lean against the small part of the wall that wasn't occupied by pencil lines. It would be nice to know someone before he came to class. On the other hand, he didn't intend to be doing much socializing, so it probably wouldn't make much difference either way. Still, it was worth meeting someone beforehand. Maybe she'd tell him how likely it was that they'd let him draw all over the walls. She'd probably think he was more than a little weird, but it was worth the risk, and besides, this was a mental hospital. You probably had to be a little bit weird to get a place here unless you were staff, and from what he'd seen, the staff weren't paragons of normality.

[Leah Wright]

Leah smiled back, jealous of his artistic abilities. "It's really good. I mean...random as hell, but good." She laughed slightly, shaking her head as she did. What the staff would say she didn't know; they could be unobservant idiots, so they might just leave it. "I don't know what the art teacher will say about that. It's awesome, but she's a bit..." Grimacing, she made a face, her meaning clear: bitch. She played favourites as well; obviously fed up with their class, because none of them were artists. There was a dancer -no, two dancers now, a new kid had arrived just the day before- three musicians, not including herself, a writer, and...yeah, that was it. "Are you a sophomore? If so, you're the only artist in our grade." She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing; he wouldn't have his roommates to talk to, but he'd be the best at something, which was always fun. Plus, she thought, having her roommates in classes with her wasn't always good. Tylar still scared her. Having Maddy around was nice, though.

At his warning, she jumped backwards, looking with horror at the picture. She couldn't see any smudging, but swallowed nervously, pushing her hands behind her back, just in case they lept out of their own free will and touched the drawing again. "I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to... Did I ruin it? I'm sorry." She edged away slightly, hoping that she wasn't about to get pummelled by an angry artist.

She smiled at him carefully, not wanting to piss him off. "That's cool. How come you're here...if you don't mind me asking." Biting her lip, she took another small step backwards. "I'm a musician, struggling with art homework." Oh, I wish I was an artist she added silently. Usually, she was happy with singing, but it would be amazing to create something like that picture, that everyone could like; not everyone liked singers. "Oh, I'm Leah. Uh, what's your name?"

[Manuel Delaney]

Manuel laughed slightly at her reaction. She'd acted as if even being near it could smudge the pencil marks. "Don't worry, you didn't. I didn't mean you couldn't be near it," he told her, his tone light, teasing. She seemed slightly... odd, looking as though she was about to burst into tears at the thought that she could have spoiled it. Was that a disorder? Hyper-emotional...ness? He didn't think so, but then, there were a lot of things that could effect your emotions, so he didn't bother trying to figure her out. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him.

Sitting himself down again, cross-legged, he looked at the drawing, frowning. It still wasn't right. He'd need infinity and a bit longer to get it perfect, of course, and he only had two or three years here, but still. "And thanks," he added, remembering that she'd paid him a compliment. "It's not perfect, but... well, they'll probably paint over it before I've got time to come back with colours and finish it," he told her, looking regretfully at the drawing. While not great, it was pretty good, and he wished he would be allowed to finish it.

"No, I'm a junior," he replied, still staring at the wall. "I haven't got any roommates, though, so I think I'm the only male artist here. D'you know what grades the others are in?" Her next question had him looking at her, and he smiled lopsidedly. Musician? Singer, he guessed. Something mellow-ish. He couldn't picture her playing guitar or drums - maybe acoustic guitar, actually, but not electric - but piano, flute, clarinet... something like that. A classical instrument. At her next question, he turned back to the wall, shrugging. "IED. No trigger. And conduct disorder, and kleptomania. You?" He leaned back on his hands, staring at the drawing. It looked so much like MaryAnna... he found himself wondering where she was, what she was doing. Did she miss him? Of course she did; they'd been going out two years. You missed your boyfriend if you'd been going out then long then he got carted off to some psychiatric hospital.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts in time to hear her next question. "Manuel," he replied, glancing at her face. Leah. The name fitted it, somehow. Quiet, feminine. He gave her another brief smile. Well, he'd managed to meet someone. Just a pity she wasn't his age, in his grade, or in any of his classes. Since he was the only guy in the art class, he was going to be alone, surrounded by a bunch of girl. Hopefully, they weren't all younger than him, or he'd get very impatient. Sophomores were OK, but freshmen were a pain the in arse, always. No exception. Turning to Leah, he asked her, "Do you know any of the artists?"

[Leah Wright]

She blushed, looking down at her shoes and taking a step closer to the picture. "Sorry. I mean..." Stop repeating yourself, idiot! She turned her head, pretending to study the drawing and waiting for the blood to leave her cheeks. It was embarrassing that she flushed so easily; she seemed to always be bright red with embarrassment. After a minute, she turned back, looking carefully at Manuel. If she didn't already have someone -Rio- she'd have considered him; he matched her criteria, completely. Not that she was interested, of course.

"It's not perfect?" She stared at him. "Perfectionist, right? What do you think needs to be improved? It looks awesome, to me." Leah smiled, hoping the sincerity in her words came through. "It'd be awesome if you could paint it... It'd be gorgeous. Maybe, if you ask the art teacher, she'd let you leave it... Oh, but the rain might wash it away." Paint would probably stay, she thought, if it was waterproof, but pencil might fade, which would be depressing; it was such a beautiful picture. Carefully, she sat down next to Manuel, her sketchbook abandoned on the ground beside her.

It was a pity that he wasn't a sophomore -it was nice to know people in her class- but that made him older than her... She smiled to herself. Okay, just because he matched her criteria perfectly didn't mean that she liked him. "Yeah, I think you are the only male artist. You will be, if you don't have any roommates." Leah paused. "Trust me, it's good not to share. My roommates are...a paranoid masochist and an IED sadist." She rolled her eyes. "You can imagine how fun that is."

She thought about his question. "I'm not sure. Um... There's two little kids, both freshmen, I think. No, three kids, all freshmen. Girls." They were all quite odd, although she hadn't had the longest of conversations with them -especially not the redhaired one, seeing as she didn't talk. Leah remembered what IED was -Layla had it, apparently, although she'd never seen her get angry- and recognised the other two. "Does no trigger mean you just...randomly get angry?" she asked, slightly timidly. What if he just attacked her? "I'm, um, post-traumatic stress disorder. And OCD." It wasn't lying if she didn't mention her other diagnosis. Just...a lie of omission.

Leah smiled, nodding at him as he introduced himself. "I've never really met the artists. Um, one girl doesn't speak, I know. I haven't really spoken to the other two, but my, um, friend said that one thinks she's evil -don't touch her, apparently, she freaks out- and the other thinks she's a fairy. Or...something." She laughed quietly. "Good luck in class," Leah teased, smiling at him.

[Manuel Delaney]

Manuel snorted disbelievingly at her words. "Yep. If you look at the face, the shading's off. Not all the lines are parallel, they don't..." he glanced at Leah, and shrugged. "Nevermind. If you can't see any flaws, I don't want to point them out to you," he paused, then added, "Do you think she would? Or would I have to, like, nick it or something?" Maybe he could recreate it in class sometime. It was good, but on a smaller scale, he could get in more detail. He could do it on canvas, or paper, paint it in properly, spend more than a couple of hours on it. He liked the design, it was just the shading that didn't quite work. He'd have to paint it... pity he couldn't use spray cans. They looked so much better. Harder to control, it was true, but you were left with a solid block of colour. They mixed better than most paints, and you weren't left with streaky brush marks all over your work at the end. Yeah, and walls are better than paper, 'cause they last longer and are bigger, but you won't be allowed any of them.

He glanced at her. She sounded scared of him, something he was very used to. People often freaked out when they heard that he had mental disorders, especially anger problems; he was resigned to that fact. Rolling up his sleeves, he interlinked his fingers and stretched them out in front of him, arching his back as he did so. "I lose it if I'm under a lot of pressure, or if someone really pisses me off," he told her, flicking a blade of grass off his leg. Post-traumatic stress disorder? Manuel thought about that. Did that mean she'd been raped or something? No, it could be anything, he remembered, that... well, traumatised people. Car crashes, seeing people die, drug-induced hallucinations... anything. And OCD? His friends had often said he got OCD about his drawings, unable to finish them, never thinking they were done. He sighed. Not thinking about them.

He listened to her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, that sounds like it'll be a lot of fun," he replied dryly, thinking. A girl who didn't speak, one who was convinced she was evil, and one who thought she was a fairy? Well, this was going to be a laugh. "What about you? Got any nutters in the music class, or is it just the art students that are insane?" Like everywhere else in the world, he though, grinning slightly. He'd known a fair few art students in university, and from what he'd heard, they'd fit right in with his class here.

[Leah Wright]

Leah laughed as he spoke. "I'm not letting you near my art homework if you critique like that," she teased, wincing slightly at the thought of her homework, due in the next day. At the mention of stealing paint, she giggled, relaxing. "Security here aren't the greatest, but they tend to keep solvents under lock and key. You'd have to ask, probably." Then again, he was a klepto, meaning he probably could pick a lock. It'd get him into a hell of a lot of shit, though... "Who is the picture of? She's pretty." It was true; a genuine compliment. She tilted her head sideways, examining the woman before sitting herself next to Manuel. She had nowhere else to be, he was nice enough, and she could always copy his work for her assignment; obviously not claiming that she came up with the idea herself. Leah reconsidered that idea. No, because her lack of artistic ability would probably offend Manuel, and she didn't want to set off his IED.

"Oh, cool. I thought it was just...completely random," she answered, smiling. That meant that he wasn't going to snap -unless he felt pressure from her, which she didn't think she gave off- and that she was safe. "Um... What's kleptomania like?" The incontrollable urge to steal was all she knew; but it was something that she wondered about. Surely, if one tried hard enough, they could control it? Leah reminded herself of her panic attacks. Some people might say she could control them...not true.

Grinning, she lent back on her hands, watching Manuel slightly cautiously. Just in case people leaning back upset him. "I'm sure it will be. You're the only boy, and the only one over fourteen." Generally, she had found, the younger you were, the more attention you got in classes - when she'd done music therapy, at the last psychiatric hospital, after her suicide attempts, she was the youngest one there. And the best at music; nobody else really played anyhting. Because of that, everyone had made her sing... Leah cringed at the memory. It was definetly better to be older, if you liked to stay in the background.


She laughed at his question. "Oh, we've got plenty. My roommates, for starters... Then Maddy. He's a pretty good friend of mine...when he's in a good mood. Bipolar. And then a boy -I think he's called Evan- that's, um, possibly the most antisocial person I've ever met. Mostly, I just talk to Maddy." The rest of the class scared her, if she was honest.

[Manuel Delaney]

He smiled slightly. "Oh, it's just my own stuff I do that with, don't worry... were you planning on letting me near your art homework?" He glanced at her, a slight frown creasing his brow. He'd only just met this girl... He shrugged, and turned away at her next words. "It's my girlfriend. Well... ex, now, I guess. I had to come here, and we..." he shrugged again, still staring at the face. God, I miss her, he added silently, watching the face sadly. He missed her looks, her laugh, her irresponsible attitude to everything... their lips touching, her hand brushing against his, the way she used to turn up on his doorstep without calling first... everything about her. He missed it all.

Sighing, he glanced at Leah and gave her a sad smile. "Well, it's not like she could come with me. We can still write, I guess..." The thoughts overwhelmed him again, and he closed his eyes for a brief second, remembering her, sadness filling him. Then he pushed the memories back, turned to Leah who was watching him apprehensively, and laughed lightly. "Don't worry, I don't get angry very often," he guessed why she looked so nervous.

"Oh, lucky, lucky me," he sighed, grinning slightly. The only boy, and the only over-fourteen? That would be a laugh. He listened to her talking about the musicians, nodding calmly. "So, is that all? Or are there others as well?" He felt oddly relaxed around this girl. Possibly because she was sweet, and quiet, and didn't make stupid remarks or ask stupid questions, and she appreciated his work, something which always went down well with Manuel. Smiling slightly at the wall, he leaned back so he could see Leah's face without twisting around, and waited for her answers.

[Leah Wright]

Leah flipped open her book, displaying her beautiful piece of work. "I've called it The Empty Page; what d'you think?" Smiling, she idly drew some swirling patterns on the black paper, wondering if that'd be good enough for her teacher. No. There wasn't a chance in hell...pity. At his mention of his girlfriend -well, not the fact that he had a girlfriend, but the fact that she was an ex- a sympathetic look of sadness crossed her face. "That sucks," she commented, quietly stating the obvious. It was horrible to think that just because you'd been an idiot once, you were being shipped away for a few years... Leah knew from experience how awful break-ups were. God, if she'd had to have left Louise -if she hadn't got a restraining order- and come here, she probably would have killed herself.

"Yeah, I guess... Um, they sorta read the letters -we think, anyway, although the staff won't tell us- so...don't put anything about the school. I mean, they'll probably get mad." The they was accompanied by a one-handed gesture at the school; they were all the people standing in the way of the students going home, being happy. Some of the staff seemed cool enough -like Cody- but the rest were just... It was like they didn't want all the kids to get well, because they wouldn't get paid as much, probably.

As he guessed the reason for her caution, she blushed, looking away. "I'm a bit of a worrier about stuff like that, sorry," she answered, her voice sounding light and playful while a series of memories played in her mind; the same ones that she saw everytime...well, most of the time, really. It wasn't that bad, though. It was only when she had panic attacks, or slept, that she could really feel it, feels Mark's hands all over her... Shuddering at the thought, she focused on Manuel's face, giving a small smile. "Yep. Have fun in class."

"They're all the musicians," she continued. "There are other people here, but I don't know most of them... From my grade, that I can remember, there's...hmm. A ridiculously skinny girl -anorexic, I think- a girl who seems pretty normal, but has a weird name. Sounds like a mushroom? And a mute girl." She laughed. "There's one boy in my grade, and he's gay. In yours... I can't remember everyone," she admitted, thinking of as many students as she could. "Rio, who's here, um -" it somehow didn't seem right to betray his confidence and tell Manuel "- I'm not sure why, his roommate who's...insane. Narcissistic, or something, and he can't feel pain." She laughed, running through the rest of the students in her head. "A new boy that I don't know, I've just seen him around, and... Oh, a dancer who's antisocial or something. There are loads more -you've got the most people in your class- but I've got the worst memory." Leah laughed, slightly surprised at how much she was talking. It was usual for her to want to be around people after she had nightmares, though; made her feel more real. Safer.

[Manuel Delaney]

He smiled at her joke, sparing the page a quick glance as he did so, and shrugged. "I'd guessed that they might read the letters. Wouldn't just let a bunch of nutters like us write to our families in private, right?" he muttered bitterly. Thy had a point, though. They probably didn't want kids asking for a gun to be sent to them or a mob to come and spring them out, or anything like that. He sighed, brushed his hair out of his face, and glanced at Leah. She seemed... far too normal to be here, really. She was quiet, which was one of the only reasons he was letting her hang around. She didn't seem to expect anything of him, and she was quite sweet. It had been a long time since Manuel met anyone who he thought was sweet; at the school he'd gone to, that kind of innocence was stamped out of you at an early age.

Then came the list of students, and Manuel could easily see why they didn't want people sending letters that hadn't been read. The girl who sounded normal? Probably IED or something, like him. After all, most people thought he was normal, until he lost his temper. One boy, and he was gay? Well, that was probably... Manuel thought about that. Lucky for him didn't sound right, lucky for the girls wasn't right unless this guy was a sex addict, and... nevermind. Manuel nodded, thinking about that list. "Right... sounds like they've got quite the collection going on here," he said, smiling at her. "This guy, Rio... how come he's the only junior you know by name? You friends with him or something?" He looked back at his picture, still irritated by the irregular shading lines. Damn, he needed to get up and fix them... glaring angrily, he picked up his pencil and walked over to the wall, shading while keeping his head slightly turned towards Leah, listening for her reply.

[Leah Wright]

"I know. I mean, a few of us have talked about it... We're not completely sure. But I can't imagine them letting us; if you want to write something personal..." Leah shrugged. "Well, you'll have to write in a code -a subtle one, because they won't post it otherwise- and then hope your friend gets it." She sighed, shaking her head. The only person Leah wrote to was her mother; since the Louise thing -and the house arrest- most of her friends had drifted away. And of course, she wasn't allowed to write to Louise. And Mark was in juvie...

Grinning, she nodded. "Yeah. The craziest kids are the freshmen, though, and they're all in your art class. Oh, except for the boy with 'Fraggle' delusions." Maddy had told her about that, and she'd laughed, unable to breathe, for a few minutes. When she'd eventually been able to speak -it was just the picture of some random boy running into the room when Maddy was in a low mood and them having an entire conversation- she'd mentioned Fregoli delusions. Weird how she knew stuff like that... Well, some girls her age could name every type of nail varnish ever made. Leah thought that knowing half the DSM-IV was more useful, but that was personal. And of course, she'd learnt it in a fairly unhealthy way - while her mother had her 'little talks' with her old shrink, she'd read all the leaflets in the waiting room. Fun!

At the mention of Rio, Leah bent her head, trying to hide the smile that always appeared at the mention of his name. "He's, um... Yeah, my friend." Was he more than a friend? Well, they'd made out and everything...before she'd had a panic attack and screamed at him. That tended to ruin things like that. She laughed as Manuel, apparently unable to leave his picture alone, began being all obsessive-compulsive, sketching in some fine details that she didn't even notice. While his head was turned, she picked up her own sketchbook, turning to a black page and quickly sketching the outline of Manuel, stretching up to correct something on the girls eyes. If it was going to be washed away anyway, she might as well attempt to preserve it, despite her...dubious talents as an artist. There was a small silence as they both focused on their work, not awkward but comfortable.

He was nice, Leah decided. Like Maddy, but less bipolar. And...probably less of an ex-male prostitute, or gay... Was he gay? She wasn't very good at telling, apparently. "Did you want to come here? I mean... Do you think they'll help you?" Pausing her sketch for a minute -God, it was awful- she fiddled with the pencil, flipping it around in her fingers. "I mean, I was sorta glad to come here. I was ...under house arrest and shit, so it was nice to...get out." Ruefully, she laughed. "Even if it was just to a place like this, at least it has a big outdoors." Ducking her head, she wondered if he was going to freak at the house arrest thing.

[Manuel Delaney]

He finished sorting out the shading on the the face, but noticed that some of the feathers were off. Rolling his eyes, Manuel crouched down, filling in the outline with light, soft strokes, sitting back on his haunches and looked critically at it when he was done. Goddamnit, he needed to lose this obsessiveness. It wasn't even like he was disappointed in what he'd done, he could just... always see how it could be better, and always wanted to make it better. This would be satisfactory, he decided, if he could only get a hold of some paints. But that would mean asking, and then they'd know he'd done this, and probably paint over it, which would be a shame. It didn't look like many people came back here, so it would be safe, if he just didn't draw attention to it.

When she spoke, he turned around, frowning slightly, but smiling at the same time. "Fraggle delusions? Right... interesting," with a faint chuckle, he turned back to his work, flicking his pencil across the veins in the feathers. He caught the tone of her voice when she talked about this Rio guy, and rolled his eyes. His back was to her, so she couldn't see him. Typical. Yet another thing to remind him of MaryAnna. He stopped shading for a second, pursing his lips, trying to control his emotions. Fuck, but he wanted her back. So, so badly.

He took several deep breaths before resuming his work, keeping his face carefully turned away from Leah. "No. I mean, I was fine back in LA. I messed up a few times, that was all, and they sent me away. It's not like I tried to kill anyone or anything..." he trailed off, his hand stopping again. That was true; he'd never actually tried to kill people, but he couldn't deny that he could be a danger when he was really, really angry... he turned back to Leah at last, giving her a sad smile. "House arrest? That's... I can see why you'd want to get out. How come you were locked up?"

[Leah Wright]

"Perfectionist," she teased, grinning at his turned back and sketching it at the same time. "Really, you'll ruin it if you put too much detail in. It's great as it is." She'd got his outline in the picture already; he could move around all he wanted now. Critically, she looked at her own work, frowning at the blob that was supposed to be Manuel. There was no way she was showing him that; it was just demeaning to his physique. Well, she hadn't signed up for art classes. If she got attacked by an insulted IED artist, it was on her teachers head.

"So...what was their reasoning for sending you away? Usually, you have to...well, either do something kinda serious, or just be completely insane." Wait, that hadn't come out right. That was basically implying that he was either lying about what he'd done, or saying that he was completely insane, neither of which were good things. "I mean, you probably...didn't. It's just...usual. Not normal." Leah started drawing an outline of the girl, wincing at the clumsy strokes. Would it be fraud, technically, if she got Manuel to sketch it for her? Yes, completely. Still, it was tempting, especially as she watched him draw with such ease. Like it was easy for him to be such an awesome artist...

His question about house arrest made her smile ruefully. Ah. "Well... There was just a sorta...incident." Was she in the insane category, or the having done something big one? Both, according to her shrink. "I got, um... I attacked my ex, in a public place. And apparently, that wasn't allowed... Oh, and I broke a restraining order at the same time." Gazing down at her sketchpad, she winced at the memory, trying to hide her expression from Manuel. "So... I wasn't really allowed to be with people. Because I had a problem with my boyfriend, before the breaking ribs thing happened." Shit. "I...didn't mention breaking ribs before, did I?" With a quiet laugh, Leah shook her head. "Yeah, I was a bit crazy then. I'm not...anymore, at least." Hopefully, he wouldn't think that she was a complete freak. He might run away from her, or something... He might tell Rio. No, she couldn't have that. Biting her lip, she wondered if it was too late to take everything back; pretend that she was just kidding. Probably. With a sigh, she shaded in the feathers with quick, agitated strokes. He couldn't tell Rio...

[Manuel Delaney]

He didn't turn around, but smiled at the wall as he continued to shade in the little fiddly bits. Her next words hit home, though, and he stood back, realising she was right. "Yeah, I guess. It's just..." rolling his eyes, he shook his head and turned away from the image, flopping down on the grass beside Leah, looking fixedly at her. If he looked at the picture, he'd probably just jump right back up and carry on trying to perfect it. Shrugging to her, he pulled a face. "I was just getting in too many fights and shit, I guess. And I'd already got messed up with the police, about graffiting - vandalism, as they liked to call it. But still, I think my shrink was a little... diagnosis-happy, if that makes sense. It's not like I wasn't able to cope in the... my other school," he said, refraining from saying 'the normal school'.

He noted her discomfort, and mentally shrugged. She'd tell him if she wanted to, he wasn't bothered. Frankly, he wasn't too interested; he'd known people on house arrest before, and the topic wasn't one that particularly appealed to him, but he was looking for a topic of conversation. This girl seemed nice enough. A little dull, perhaps, but then again... attacking your ex in a public place and having your ribs broken by your boyfriend didn't exactly fit into the 'dull' category. He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. 'Bummer' didn't seem very appropriate... oh, well. "Bummer," he muttered, eyes fixed on the painting once again. Damnit. Twirling his pencil around his fingers, he stared intently at the picture, a frown on his face as he gazed at it. The shading was so completely wrong. Fucking hell, he needed some paints.