The Courage to See

Elliot clutched their sketchbook tighter as they hurried through the empty art room. The clock on the wall showed 4:30—they'd stayed way too late working on their project for the upcoming exhibition.

"Ms. Wells is going to lock up soon," they whispered, gathering colored pencils and rushing to put everything away.

Their fingers traced the nearly finished drawing—a night sky over mountains, stars spread like dreams across the darkness. It wasn't perfect, but Ms. Wells had called it "promising" and that tiny bit of praise had made Elliot's week.

The halls echoed with emptiness as Elliot headed toward the exit. Most students had left hours ago. Even the sports teams had ended practice.

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grounds. Elliot considered the long walk home. If they cut across the abandoned field behind school, they could shave off ten minutes.

The field hadn't been used since the new stadium was built three years ago. Tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze as Elliot stepped onto the forgotten space, notebook hugged protectively against their chest.

Halfway across, they heard voices.

"Look what we found!"

Elliot froze. Ryan Mitchell stood blocking the way ahead, two of his football buddies flanking him. Another appeared behind Elliot, cutting off any exit.

"All alone, freak?" Ryan's smile was cold, nothing like Jamie Carter's warm grin from earlier at practice.

Elliot's stomach twisted. They'd managed to avoid Ryan all day. Until now.

"I'm just going home," Elliot said quietly, eyes fixed on the ground.

"What's that you're carrying?" Ryan stepped closer. "Your little diary?"

"It's nothing," Elliot backed away, but bumped into the player behind them.

Ryan snatched the sketchbook. "Let's see what weird stuff you draw."

"Please don't," Elliot reached for it, but Ryan held it high, flipping through pages.

"Look at this garbage," Ryan laughed, showing his friends. "Little stars and mountains. What are you, five years old?"

Elliot felt their cheeks burn. Those pictures were private—pieces of themselves they never showed anyone except Ms. Wells.

"Give it back," they whispered, hating how small their voice sounded.

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Or what? You'll cry?"

He ripped out a page—the night sky Elliot had spent weeks polishing. The tearing sound cut through Elliot like physical pain.

"Stop!" Elliot lunged forward, but one of Ryan's friends pushed them back. They tripped, falling hard onto the dirt.

Ryan tore out another page, then another, letting them flutter to the ground.

"This is what happens when you disrespect me in the library," Ryan growled.

Elliot remembered now—they'd accidentally bumped into Ryan while carrying books, causing him to drop his phone. It had been a simple mistake, but Ryan never forgot when someone made him look foolish.

Tears blurred Elliot's vision as they watched their art spread across the field. They thought of all the hours spent on those pictures, all the feelings poured onto those pages.

Ryan pulled scissors from his bag. "Maybe we should give you a haircut too. Those weird blue lines need to go."

Elliot scrambled backward, heart pounding against their ribs. This couldn't be happening. They closed their eyes, waiting for rough hands to grab them.

"RYAN!"

Elliot's eyes snapped open at the familiar voice.

Jamie Carter stood at the side of the field, his face darkened with anger. He was running toward them, moving with the same power Elliot had seen on the football field, but now that strength was coming to their protection.

Ryan's smirk weakened. "Carter? What are you doing here?"

Jamie didn't slow down until he stood between Ryan and Elliot. "What am I doing? What are you doing? Four against one with scissors? That's not cool."

Elliot couldn't believe what they were seeing. Jamie Carter—the school's golden boy, the star captain everyone worshipped—was protecting them.

"Since when do you care about some art freak?" Ryan's speech dripped with disbelief. "This isn't your business."

"I'm making it my business," Jamie said, his voice steady and strong.

Elliot slowly stood up, their legs shaky. They could still feel their heart beating, but something else was building inside them—something that felt like hope.

Ryan stepped closer to Jamie, dropping his voice. "Walk away now, and we can pretend this never happened."

Jamie didn't move an inch.

"You're choosing some nobody over your teammates?" Ryan hissed. "Over your friends?"

The question hung in the air. Elliot held their breath, certain Jamie would come to his senses and leave them to their fate.

Instead, Jamie looked Ryan straight in the eyes and said, "If this is who my friends are, maybe I need new ones."

Ryan's face twisted with shock, then rage. "You'll regret this, Carter. The team won't forget."

"Neither will I," Jamie replied, not backing down.

After a tense moment, Ryan nodded to his friends, and they slunk away, muttering threats.

When they were gone, Jamie turned to Elliot. Really looked at them for perhaps the first time.

"Are you okay?" His voice was softer now.

Elliot nodded, unable to speak. They knelt to gather the torn pages of their sketchbook, hands still shaking.

Jamie dropped to his knees beside them, carefully picking up the scattered drawings. "These are amazing," he said, studying a sketch of mountains. "Did you make these?"

"Yes," Elliot whispered, surprised by his attention.

"I've never seen anything like them." Jamie gave the pages back, his fingers briefly touching Elliot's. "I'm sorry about Ryan. He's always been a jerk, but this is a new low."

"Why did you help me?" The question slipped out before Elliot could stop it.

Jamie looked away, then back at Elliot. Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes.

"Because it was right," he said simply. Then, after a pause: "And because I'm tired of pretending not to see."

Elliot wasn't sure what he meant, but the honesty in his words made their heart skip.

"I'm Elliot," they said, offering their name like a gift.

"Jamie." He smiled—not the perfect smile Elliot had seen him use with teachers and dancers, but something real and a little crooked.

As they finished gathering the torn sketches, the sun dipped lower, bathing the field in golden light.

"Can I walk you home?" Jamie asked. "Just to make sure Ryan doesn't try anything else."

Elliot paused, then nodded.

As they left the field together, Elliot sneaked looks at Jamie. The sports star and the art kid—two people who had never spoken before today. Two worlds that were never meant to collide.

Elliot didn't know what would happen tomorrow. Whether Jamie would pretend not to know them in the crowded halls, whether Ryan would seek payback, or whether this strange moment of connection would vanish like morning mist.

But for now, walking beside Jamie as the day faded into evening, Elliot felt something foreign unfurling in their chest.

It felt dangerously like belonging.