Snippet #2338041

A bell sounded. Sanders snapped his book shut. Art class. Sanders didn't need an art class. He only needed his pencils. But still, it was better than any of the other classes the school offered. The classic academics were all boring. He didn't put much effort into those subjects; he expended only the energy needed to pass the class.

Reluctantly, he shelved his book. His pencils had finished with the drawing quite some time ago and lay still beside the notebook. Sanders took some time to admire the work of art. The horses seemed to move on the page. They were shaded as if the evening sun was setting behind them, the rays slinking away beneath the horizon. It was beautiful and Sanders couldn't help but feel a burst of pride in his pencils. They were always doing the most miraculous things.

He carefully closed the notebook and placed it in his messenger bag, along with the pencils. After checking that he had not forgotten anything, he left the library. The art classroom was not too far away, so the walk was not a long one. As he stepped inside, he noticed a few people were already there. Sanders did not care for other people's names, but he recognized some of the faces. One of them, a small boy around his age, was actually in the same dorm as Sanders.

Sanders decided to take a seat next to the other boy. He avoided eye contact with the people in the room and waited impatiently for class to start, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. He couldn't wait for this to be over with so that he could go back to the library and read. That book had been fairly good and Sanders had wanted to finish it in one setting. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen. He would just have to bear with it and push through the useless class like always.