Part One!

Hey Guys! It's Jo. And Marie. So, last week we couldn't post, we apologize. So, here's last week's post. It's a prompt I, Jo, came up with! We'll be showing it in parts as we work on it. This is what we have so far! Hope you like it!
~JO

I didn't think my world could get worse. But I was wrong. First, I get kicked out of the orchestra, band, choir, and the art club. Then my girlfriend breaks up with me. And now, Mozart is dead. I could have dealt with the break up, yeah, but I've been part of the orchestra, band, choir, and art club since I was four! And Mozart. Mozart was my best friend. My poor goldfish. It was bad enough that I'd lose most of my humanity and get drafted into the army. Now all this happens? I can't believe it. Happy birthday to me.

"Ow! Watch where you’re going!" I stumbled a little bit as I heard a girl yell at me. When I regained my balance, I looked up to apologize. I saw bright blue eyes glaring at me. They seemed to shimmer with shades of aqua, like a painting of the ocean.

"I-I'm so sorry," I said. I started running my fingers through my copper hair. Force of habit whenever I get nervous or anxious or something of the like.

"Well, you should be. What's your problem?"

"It's my birthday," I mumbled.

"So?"

"I'm turning sixteen." She was silent. She had very dark brown hair, it was almost black. It was wavy and was varying different lengths down her shoulders. She was quite petite, and had freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks. I circled around her without really thinking about it. Her appearance fascinated me. She'd be a great subject for a painting or a sketch even.

"Look, I'm really sorry that it's your birthday," she started. What a great way to start a sentence. "But why are you doing that?" I stopped in front of her.

"Oh, I'm just thinking of how you might be a great subject to paint." She looked at me and blushed. And once I realized what I said, I started blushing as well. She twirled a piece of her hair.

"I'm Rosella Stafford, but everyone calls me Ro." She held out her hand to me. I shook it.

"I'm Cole. Cole Brooks."

"So, you like painting?"

"Yeah, I like the arts, but I prefer music."

"Music huh?"

"Yeah. I play the guitar, flute,  American drums, violin, and the piano. And, I sing a little bit."

"Cool, I also take an interest in art."  I found myself talking to Ro as we walked down the busy streets of New York City.

“Oh really?”

She nodded. “Drawing, writing, the works.”

“Awesome,” I said as I swerved around someone. Her eyes flitted up to meet mine before dropping back down.

“So,” she said, drawing out the word, “where’re ya headed?”

TO BE CONTINUED . . .