Graffiti Girl // Michael Clifford

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Are we human or are we dancer?

«Human» The Killers**

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"And I'm on my knees, looking for the answer. Are we human? Or are we dancer?"

The room stands silent for a long moment. I see Michael adjusting his guitar in a nervous movement on his lap.

"Say something before I cry!" R snaps.

"I'm honestly not sure what to say," Mr. Berkins laughs.

"Andi, I knew you were a great artist, but this is just something else--something more. It's amazing, Andi," Mrs. Trixie says.

"I still want to touch up a few things here and there, but yeah..." I say nervously.

"You can also sing, which I guess I should've seen coming but didn't," Mr. Berkins jokes.

"I can manage," I deflect, "but you should hear these guys." I nod back to the boys.

"I'd love to hear it someday," he says politely. "However, you are so singing at the scholarship banquet and don't even try weaseling out of it."

"I don't want to sing for a bunch of strangers," I groan, tired of losing this argument.

"But you will and you'll rock it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"How's the visual piece going?" Mrs. Trixie asks, leaning over her little attached desk.

"The sketch is on the canvas and I'm planning to start painting sometime either this week or next. I want to make sure I have my essay application thing done before I get too into it and forget."

"Good girl," Mr. Berkins chuckles.

"That's just about done, too. Oh, and I emailed you the next draft this morning to check if you haven't seen it."

"I haven't had a chance to read it but that'll be the first thing I do after school," he says. "Just remember what we talked about, adding an extra closer at the very end."

"Yep, already there," I promise proudly.

"Perfect."

"And you still have months before anything needs to be absolutely completed."

"Thank god," I laugh.

-----

Months seemed a lot longer when my realistic daily goals consisted of getting out of bed and maintaining moderate hygiene. Days used to drag on and every hour felt like a lifetime.

When you actually have shit to do and incentive to do it, an extra hour a day starts to sound like a blessing. Between rewriting the chorus ten times, three finished canvases that were thrown out, work, and regular school, August appears way too quickly.

Submission deadlines are still a month away, results aren't announced for another month after that, and the school banquet thing is the week after that, but it still feels fucking fast. R already has a case of celebratory apple cider ready at the warehouse. (The dry spell continues, at least in the alcoholic sense, but there are no complaints.)

The boys have been posting more covers onto their growing YouTube channel, still just having fun with it, and it's nice seeing them spending time on their own passions again. They didn't do much with their music in the time they basically became my caretakers. According to Ashton, though, they have been writing up a storm now that they're back at it with some--ahem--life experience to inspire them. I feel a bit weird about there being songs based on the shit we've all gone through in the past months, but at least they got something good out of the experience. They deserve at least that, so I don't mind in the end.