The Hesitation
Jayden sat at his usual desk in the art room, his sketchbook closed in front of him.
He tapped his pencil against the cover, nerves buzzing in his chest.
Tasha sat across from him, leaning back in her chair, watching him with that half-smile that always made him uneasy. Not because he didn't like it, but because it felt like she could see right through him.
"You've been hiding pages from me," she said suddenly, tilting her head.
Jayden stiffened. "What makes you say that?"
She smirked. "Because you always flip past the same ones real fast, like I'm not supposed to notice. And because you don't want anyone to see the real stuff."
She wasn't wrong.
---
The Choice
For a long moment, Jayden said nothing. The weight of the sketchbook under his hands felt like the weight of his whole life.
The drawings inside weren't just doodles — they were pieces of him. The dreams of Layla. The nights in juvie. The fire he kept locked behind his ribs.
Letting Tasha see them felt like opening the door to a room he'd kept locked for years.
He exhaled slowly. "If I show you… you can't laugh. You can't tell nobody."
Her expression softened. "Jay, I'd never laugh at you."
Something in her voice made him believe it. For the first time, he unclasped the cover and flipped to the pages he usually skipped.
---
The Truth on Paper
There was the sketch of the boy behind bars, lines so dark they almost tore the page.
There was Layla's hand clutching his sleeve, tiny and desperate.
There was the crooked heart, jagged and scarred.
Tasha's eyes moved slowly, carefully, as if each page was something fragile she might break if she looked too hard.
When she reached the drawing of her — the one he'd sketched on the swings, her profile shaded with quiet focus — she froze.
"You… drew me like I matter," she whispered.
Jayden's throat tightened. "'Cause you do."
---
The Silence That Said Everything
The room was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the overhead lights.
Tasha touched the edge of the page gently, like it was something sacred.
"You're carrying so much," she said softly. "More than anyone should. But Jay… this? This is how you survive it."
Jayden stared at her, the words sinking deep. No teacher, no staff member, no caseworker had ever said anything like that.
For a moment, he felt seen — not as a problem, not as a file, but as a person.
---
The Shift
Tasha looked up at him, her eyes steady. "You don't always have to fight with your fists. Sometimes your art fights for you."
Jayden didn't know how to respond. He just closed the sketchbook carefully, the echo of her words burning in his chest.
That night, back in his room, he pulled the book out again.
Underneath the sketches, he wrote:
Maybe this is my voice. Maybe this is how I fight back.