Page 4 of Do You Ship It
On Wednesday afternoon, I’m sat in art class. It technically started fifteen minutes ago, although our teacher has yet to show up. Some people have carried on working on their projects – we’re spending this term compiling a portfolio of one study in five different mediums – but most people are scrolling on their phones or chatting to friends.
I feel like I made a huge mistake in opening my sketchbook to carry on with my work; Evie is perched on a table on the other side of the room, her legs swinging as she chats to a couple of people. I should have gone over and joined in. Is it too late now? Probably. I don’t want to intrude, and it’s not as if Evie invited me, is it? (Should she have? Was I supposed to assume a sort of standing invitation? Will she be more annoyed at me for barging in?)
It feels like when I go into the breakroom at the H Dad had to give up being an artist when I was little, and he’s become super resentful about it these days. I’m glad I’m learning from his mistakes before it ruins my life, too.
I flip the page away from my crappy rose, landing instead on a half-done sketch from last night. My pencil moves lightly over the drawing, falling into the habit of refining lines and expanding on the outline of the image, adding detail and suggestions of shadow to tend to later. It’s just something to keep my hands busy, since I’ve committed to not joining Evie in her conversation.
The edge of my left palm is smudged grey as my pencil moves across the page, solidifying the lines of a stag’s skull and adorning the antlers in vines that will melt back into the forest behind it. It’s only as that part of the vision takes hold in my mind that I realize what I’m drawing.
It’s a scene from Of Wrath and Rune . I finally watched the first two episodes last night, and while they were very slow and very strange, there was this part where one of the forest-creatures emerged from the woods. I think it was this antlered character I saw that guy dressed up as at the convention, and while the episode droned on I ended up down a Wiki rabbit hole, learning that because of the low budget most of the special effects like that were done with make-up and clever artistry rather than CGI.
I ended up rewinding that episode to watch it again properly, feeling a little flutter of excitement when the weird stag-man appeared as if from nowhere in the treeline, thinking of all the agonizing artistic detail that must have gone into making that so seamless.
He’s coming to life now, on my page, little by little.
As I realize this, I almost drop my pencil, recoiling in my chair a bit, breath catching and eyes darting side to side like someone’s going to suddenly notice. Objectively, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with fanart, but this is … weird . Isn’t it? Jake told me that OWAR notoriously has a very dedicated fanbase; I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to think of me as one of those obsessive nerds just yet.
But I would like Jake to think it, so I slip my phone out of my bag and grab a photo, trying to be as discreet as I can.
I’m going to be really mad if the stag guy dies by episode 3 after I’ve dedicated my art project to him , I type out, exaggerating the truth only … mildly. (I mean, it’s an art project … of a sort.) Of course I’d updated Jake as soon as I’d started watching, and he wanted all my reactions live-texted to him, but I think he’ll appreciate this a lot.
See? OWAR is totally on my mind, I’m already a huge fan! Now ask me on a date already!
Maybe if I make some fanart, I won’t have to read the books?
Jake doesn’t reply instantly, which is fair because he’s probably in class himself at the moment, but I see I have a couple of Discord messages from him that I missed. The app is buried away in a folder so nobody might see it if they looked at my phone, but I feel a little thrill at seeing a few messages from @runicrascal a little while ago.
@runicrascal
So here’s the thing with s1 – it’s slow. Like, real slow. This is all worldbuilding, laying groundwork for character arcs and trying to introduce you to the dynamics of the kingdom and how the magick systems work and who’s who and why you’re rooting for them
@runicrascal
s1 is literally the entire first two books. Which are awesome, but … also very slow. But if you can make it through this, you’ll probably be attached enough to the characters to enjoy the extra content in the first two books! Which is kind of a bonus?
@runicrascal
Don’t give up on it just yet, though. You won’t even meet some of the fan faves until about episode 3 or 4!
I reread the messages three times over, and realize I’m beaming at the screen. Jake played it so cool over text last night when I was watching the first two episodes, but it’s clearly been on his mind today, too – I’ve clearly been on his mind, if he messaged me two hours ago about all this.
Maybe he wants to keep our text thread for everyday chatter, and put all the OWAR gushing in Discord? We used to exclusively send memes via Instagram DM, so I’m used to holding different conversations with him in different apps.
Even though I just sent him my art project-in-progress over text, I put the photo into the Discord chat, too. This time, I write, Drawing fanart = fangirl status solidified?
Half an hour later, he replies.
@runicrascal
WHOA! Is that Téiglin?? He looks amazing!
@runicrascal
Hardcore, newbie. Already getting attached enough to characters with only three minutes of screentime that you’re making fanart …
@runicrascal
Don’t worry, him emerging from the forest in ep1 to nurse a messenger stag beetle back to life gets to everyone
@mythicwitch
‘Only’ three minutes? NO SPOILERS. If my adorable dead forest stag hybrid guy dies, I will riot.
@runicrascal
My lips are sealed. (But, you’re good. Téiglin’s pretty beloved, and you don’t get that far by dying as soon as you show up on screen. Also you do realize he’s not dead???)
@mythicwitch
His head is literally a skull?
@runicrascal
Oooh I cannot wait for you to find out about the masked cult of forest-creatures
@mythicwitch
I honestly can’t tell if that’s a joke or not
@runicrascal
No spoilers, remember?
As I’m trying to formulate a reply – and trying to decide if I really want to get invested in a show where there are characters wearing animal skeleton masks as part of a cult, even if I’m just pretending – my phone buzzes again, and this time Jake has replied to the photo I texted him.
Jake
Sick! He looks amazing! Told you that you’d love the special effects, didn’t I? It’s almost like I know you too well or something x
My heart skips a beat, my smile so wide I cover my mouth with a hand before someone sees.
Because he does; he knows me so well, just like I know him so well. I don’t know how he doesn’t see it – how perfect we are for each other, that we’re not just best friends, but meant to be. Jake’s never really had a girlfriend, though, or dated anyone, so I’ll just have to work a bit harder to make him recognize the signs that I am interested, that I do have feelings for him.
I’ve never dated, either, but that’s more to do with a general lack of interest from boys at school. So maybe I’m missing some signs, too.
His messages are all his usual friendly, teasing self, though, so it’s hard to work out if he’s flirting and this is the sort of back-and-forth banter I see all the time in a good romcom movie, or just Jake being Jake.
Maybe I can ask Daphne or Nikita , I think, but I don’t really want them to mention anything to Evie. There’s a chance that if she knows, it might make its way to Jake or our group from school via mutual friends, and I don’t think I could bear that embarrassment. Maybe in a couple of weeks? I might know the girls well enough by then to swear them to secrecy and get their advice.
In the meantime, I’ll just have to carry on with The Plan, and try to arrange another opportunity to hang out with Jake. This time, hopefully, it’ll actually be one-on-one – with no old school friends being an inadvertent buffer between us, and certainly no Max to lurk like a sullen third-wheel.
Near the end of class, I get up to wash my hands at the paint-splattered sink in the corner, scrubbing off all the pencil that shines on the edge of my palm and has left grey smudges on my fingertips. When I turn back round, there’s a girl standing over my desk, looking closely at the sketchbook I left wide open.
I recognize the girl. Anissa O’Shea. She went to my old school. She was a bit of a loner; I’d always see her tucked out of the way on the field in the summer with a book, or in the corner of the canteen on rainy lunchtimes with her headphones in, her long hair falling in a curtain over her face. She never came out anywhere and never talked much to anyone, and had a reputation as … well, kind of a weird kid. Generally someone people kept their distance from, for no apparent reason other than she kept her distance from the rest of us. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a conversation with her beyond a group project for Year 9 geography. I don’t know her well at all.
But I do know that I don’t like the way she’s studying my drawing.
The bell sounds, and there’s mass motion across the classroom as everyone begins to pack away their stuff or stand up from their seats. I run through them all to slam my sketchbook shut.
‘Hey,’ says Anissa. ‘Is that –’
‘Cerys!’ Evie shouts from the doorway. ‘Are you coming or what?’
I bundle my stuff into my arms and sling my bag over my shoulder. I mutter a quick, ‘Sorry,’ to Anissa and run after Evie, who’s already chatting to me a mile a minute, recounting some funny story she was just told by another classmate.
I’m sure I can feel Anissa’s eyes burning into the back of my neck, but I don’t dare turn round to find out.