- Aria's POV -

When I wake up the next morning, I prepare myself to face my aunt and uncle, seeing as I came home late last night and they were already asleep. They'd call multiple times and leave me texts, but I was too exhausted to reply to any of them.

What day is it, anyway? It feels like Thursday.

I check my phone's calendar, sighing when I realize it's only Wednesday. Dammit, today's so far away from Friday. . .

Alright, I just have to get through the day without forgetting to submit my painting. And try not to strangle Maya to death. Even though that mole rat has already suffered a few of my . . . violent acts, she doesn't seem to get the message. But, hey! Could you really blame me for slapping her when she made fun of Zoe? Or when she was bullying a little girl and I happened to be there to punch her in the face? That girl was five, how pathetic can Maya get?

Rolling out of bed, I take a quick shower and brush my teeth. As soon as I walk down the stairs, I know I'm in for it. The looks on Lydia and Paul's faces are full of disappointment.

"Morning, guys. I'll just grab a yogurt and go." I say, ducking my head into the fridge in search of a strawberry flavoured yogurt.

Yogurt in hand, I head for the front door but I'm stopped when someone pulls me back and forces me onto a chair.

"Not so fast, young lady." Aunt Lydia scolds.

"Why did you leave the school at lunch yesterday?" Paul demands, glancing at the clock.

"Because I wanted to." I say lamely.

"Aria, what happened?" Lydia asks, her voice soft and soothing.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, spoon hanging from mouth. I didn't want them to know about Maya and all the shit she's been saying to me, I'll just sound pathetic.

"Drama happened," I throw the empty yogurt container out. "Look, I've just been really stressed out since that note and all. Not to mention it's all over the news, again. The whole freaking school is talking about it! I can't get a moment's peace anywhere."

"We'll get through this, Aria. But please, just don't skip school anymore, okay? You've already missed so much, do you think your parents would want that?" Paul pursues his lips.

No. They wouldn't.

Without responding, I whirl around and walk out the door, starting my walk to school. My phone buzzes, so I open up the notification.

Lizzy: Don't forget about your panting.

I look at the screen, puzzzled for a second. Panting? What am I, a dog?

Lizzy: Painting*

Ah, makes more sense now.

Me: Thanks for the reminder, Liz.

Still, my gut told me I was extremely stupid to leave my work just like that and totally forgetting about it until ast minute. What if someone stole it and wrote their name over mine? But Leo had seen me paint it myself, so he would back me up on that one.

Hopefully.

●●●

I'm seriously about to fall asleep. Could Mr. Hawkins get anymore boring? He's been lecturing us about drugs and alcohol for over an hour, something everyone in this room learned way back in sixth grade!

Health class will never end. Well, at least Ryan's in this class, dying of boredom with me. He sits a few desks behind me, so when I sneak a glance over my shoulder and see him sleeping with his head on the desk, I chuck a dinosaur eraser at him.

I stole it from Jimmy, the guy who sits next to me and is always daydreaming about Princess Jasmine.

Sorry, bud. She's already taken. Better take a step back before Aladdin calls his genie friend!

Ryan, however, doesn't even stir. I slump back in my seat, waiting for the lunch bell to ring so I can hurry over to the Art room.

"Okay, class. Pack your things and get your butts out the door so I can eat my damn lunch." Mr. Hawkins barks just as the bell finally rings.

I stumble out of the room, tripping over my own feet when I push past the ocean of students, cursing myself for being such a clutz. Finally, I stroll into the Art room and drop my books on a desk, giving Leo a little smile and wave when I see him washing his hands in the sink.

"Are you ready for the competition?"

I shrug, searching for the rack with my painting on it. "Yeah. I'm excited, actually."

Where the hell is my painting? I swear I put it on rack three.

"What are you looking for?" Leo asks, drying his hands with paper towels. He walks over to me and raises a brow, biting the inside of his cheek.

"My painting. Hey—have you seen it? Last time I dropped by here was last week. Or at least I think it was last week, I lost track of the days." I chuckle.

"Uh, no. I don't think so. I'll help you look, though. It was the one with the red dress, yeah?" Leo asks, shuffling his feet.

I nod my head, looking into rack four. Still, Leo and I are failing miserably at finding my art. Crap, this is not good. I have to find it!

"Did you find anything?" I question, all hope lost.

Leo shakes his head. "No, I haven't."

I groan and swear under my breath, until a certain painting catches my eye. I reach for it, motioning Leo over. The canvas is covered in black, but there's a spot that's left without it, giving a small view of the red dress that I painted. Written over the black, 'SORRY, NOT SORRY' is painted, and I know that this was my painting.

Someone had sabotaged my work, and whoever did it is about to get their eyes clawed out.

"Woah, what is that? Wait, hold on a second, is that—" Leo gapes at the painting, his eyes meeting mine.

"Mine," I finish his sentence, feeling my face grow red—not with embarrassment, but with anger. "Do you know who did it?"

He shuts his mouth and gulps, then says, "No, but I have a pretty good guess. Remember that Miles dude? He came in here yesterday, just when I was leaving. Told me he had to talk with Mr. Kwong about some project. So I left it there,"

Of course Miles did it. I'm not even surprised. That jerk is going to wish he were dead once I get through with him.

I stand from my crouching position and swoop the painting off the floor, leaving the room with a simple "thanks" to Leo. I shove the already ruined painting into my locker and rub my eyes when I feel them getting droopy. I'm already so tired, with everything back at home and Maya's drama . . . but now this?

I think I should find my parents' killer and ask them to slaughter Miles for me.

Then again, I wouldn't mind doing it myself. This isn't a prank, it's freaking sabotage! I've only got today and tomorrow to complete another painting that's worthy of being showcased in the city's popular art gallery. Even I wouldn't go as low as this with Miles.

No, I won't let him be satisfied with this. I'm going to make another, better painting, and I'm going to win.