The Invisible Artist

The lunch bell rang, and the halls filled with noisy students. Elliot Harper clutched their sketchbook close against their chest and moved quickly through the crowd. While everyone else headed to the canteen, Elliot slipped into the library—their safe place.

"Back again, Elliot?" Ms. Winters, the librarian, smiled warmly. Her glasses hung from a chain around her neck, and her gray hair was pinned in a neat bun.

"Is the back corner free?" Elliot asked softly.

Ms. Winters nodded. "Always save it for my favorite artist."

Elliot's shoulders loosened as they walked to the farthest table, hidden behind tall bookshelves. Here, they could breathe. Here, no one stared or whispered or pointed.

The library smelled like old books and lemon polish. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, making dust particles dance in the air. Elliot opened their lunch bag and pulled out a peanut butter sandwich, then flipped open their notebook.

The pages were filled with colorful drawings—fantasy landscapes with impossible mountains, space scenes with swirling galaxies, and creatures that existed only in Elliot's mind. Drawing was like living for Elliot. Necessary. Calming. Natural.

Their pencil moved across a fresh page, forming a field of stars. In the middle of the stars, a lone person stood looking up. The figure was small against the great sky, but somehow not afraid—just wondering.

Elliot was so focused they didn't hear the library door open. They didn't notice the footsteps coming until a shadow fell across their page.

"What's that supposed to be?" Ryan Mitchell's voice was loud in the quiet library.

Elliot's stomach dropped. They quickly tried to close their sketchbook, but Ryan was faster. He snatched it away, his mouth twisting into a mean smile.

"Look what the weirdo's drawing now," Ryan called to his friends. Three boys stood behind him, all wearing the same blue and white football shirts. They crowded around Elliot's table, blocking any exit.

"Stars? Really?" Ryan laughed, flipping through the pages. "What are you, five years old?"

"Give it back." Elliot's voice came out as a whisper.

Ryan held the book higher. "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

"I said give it back!" Elliot tried to sound strong, but their voice cracked.

The boys laughed harder. Ryan's finger pressed against one of the drawings, smudging the careful lines Elliot had spent hours polishing.

"Oops," Ryan said with fake worry. "Did I ruin your little picture?"

Tears burned behind Elliot's eyes, but they refused to let them fall. Crying would only make things worse.

"Hey!" A sharp voice cut through the laughing. Megan Chen marched toward them, her purple-streaked hair bouncing with each determined step. Though she was a head shorter than Ryan, she showed no fear as she placed herself between him and Elliot. "Back off, Mitchell."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Here comes the bodyguard."

"Give Elliot their book back," Megan ordered, hands on her hips. "Or I'll tell Coach Peters who really broke the trophy case last month."

Ryan's smile faded. He glanced at his friends, who suddenly seemed very interested in their shoes.

"Whatever," Ryan grumbled, dropping the sketchbook on the table. Some of the pages bent as it fell. "Your drawings are stupid anyway."

"So is your face," Megan shot back. "Now go away."

Ms. Winters emerged from between the bookshelves, her kind face hardened with anger. "Is there a problem here? This is a library, not a sports field."

Ryan's group backed away. "We were just leaving," Ryan said, suddenly polite. But as he turned, he whispered to Elliot, "See you later, weirdo."

The danger hung in the air even after they left. Elliot's hands shook as they smoothed out the bent pages.

Megan dropped into the chair beside them. "Those guys are such jerks." She pulled a chocolate chip cookie from her lunch bag and broke it in half, offering part to Elliot. "You okay?"

Elliot nodded, taking the cookie. "Thanks for showing up."

"Always will." Megan bumped Elliot's shoulder with her own. "Those stars look amazing, by the way. I wish I could draw like you."

"I wish I could stand up to people like you," Elliot said quietly.

Megan shrugged. "My mom says I was born without a fear button." She grinned. "Someday you'll find your voice too. Then watch out, world!"

Elliot smiled, but it faded quickly. "I just want to make it through high school without being noticed."

"That's impossible," Megan said, pointing to Elliot's notebook. "You're too talented to stay invisible forever."

The warning bell rang, marking five minutes until class. Elliot packed up their things, carefully sliding the sketchbook into their bag.

"I have math," Megan said, standing. "You coming?"

Elliot shook their head. "Art class. Meet you after school?"

"Same place as always," Megan agreed. She hugged Elliot quickly, then dashed away, calling over her shoulder, "Don't let the jerks win!"

Elliot walked slowly to the art room, taking the long way to escape the main hallways. Their thoughts replayed Ryan's words and his promise: See you later. What did that mean? What was he planning?

The art room was nearly empty when Elliot arrived. Ms. Chen looked up from arranging paint bottles and smiled.

"Elliot! Perfect time. I have something for you." She gave Elliot a glossy flyer. "The Spring Art Exhibition is coming up. I think you should enter your work this year."

Elliot stared at the flyer. SHOWCASE YOUR TALENT, it declared in bold letters. LOCAL ARTISTS AND JUDGES ATTENDING.

"I... I don't think I'm good enough," Elliot mumbled.

Ms. Chen's eyebrows rose. "Not good enough? Elliot, you're one of the most talented kids I've had in twenty years of teaching."

"Really?" Elliot couldn't hide their surprise.

"Really." Ms. Chen squeezed Elliot's shoulder. "Promise me you'll think about it?"

Elliot nodded, tucking the flyer into their sketchbook. The idea of people seeing their art—really seeing it—made their heart race with both fear and joy.

The classroom filled with students, and Ms. Chen started explaining their assignment: create a self-portrait that revealed something hidden about themselves.

"Art isn't just about showing what the eye can see," she stated. "It's about revealing truth."

Elliot stared at the blank paper on their desk. How could they show their truth when they spent so much energy hiding?

The rest of the day dragged by. In English, they examined poetry about identity. In history, they talked revolutions. In science, they mixed chemicals that changed colors when joined. But all Elliot could think about was Ryan's threat and the art show flyer burning a hole in their sketchbook.

When the final bell rang, Elliot hurried to meet Megan at their usual place by the bike racks. But Megan wasn't there. After waiting fifteen minutes, Elliot pulled out their phone to text her.

The word Elliot received back made their blood freeze: SORRY! EMERGENCY DENTIST APPOINTMENT. BROKEN TOOTH AT LUNCH. GO HOME WITHOUT ME.

Elliot looked up from the phone, suddenly aware of how empty the school grounds had become. Most students had already left. A few athletes headed toward the gym for exercise, but otherwise, the place was deserted.

Taking a deep breath, Elliot chose to cut across the abandoned field behind the school. It would shave ten minutes off their walk home. Normally they avoided the field—it was too open, too exposed—but today they just wanted to get home quickly.

The field had once been used for softball, but the school built a new diamond on the other side of campus years ago. Now weeds grew through cracks in the dirt, and the old benches rusted in the sun. No one came here anymore.

Elliot was halfway across when they heard voices. Looking up, they saw Ryan and his friends coming from the other side of the field. Ryan held something in his hand that caught the sunshine.

With a jolt of fear, Elliot realized it was a pair of scissors.

"There you are," Ryan called, his voice carrying across the empty field. "Told you we'd see you later."

Elliot looked around frantically. There was nowhere to hide, no one to call for help. The school buildings were too far away now. Their only chance was to run—but Ryan and his friends were already spreading out to block any escape.

"We just want to see more of your artwork," Ryan said, snipping the scissors in the air. "Maybe help you with some cutting and pasting."

Elliot clutched their backpack tightly, feeling the outline of their sketchbook inside. The field suddenly seemed vast, and Elliot had never felt smaller or more alone.