Simon Reyes
Tuesday, 3:52pm, September 11, 2025
People talk too much.
They fill the air with noise, trying to drown out the quiet where truth lives. I don't like lies, even the polite kind. I prefer things I can see, things I can sketch—because drawings don't lie. They just are.
That's why I sketch people instead of talking to them.
I keep a spiral notebook in my bag at all times, worn and battered, filled with ink and charcoal and secrets.
And lately, I've been drawing Elijah.
There's something in the way he moves—calculated, calm, like he's carrying weight no one else can see. People look at him and see a golden boy. I look at him and see someone trying too hard not to fall apart.
Maybe that's why I respect him.
Maybe that's why I notice things others don't.
Like how Rosa stares at him when she thinks no one's looking. Or how Maddie flinches—just slightly—whenever he stands too close.
Or how Cat watches everyone like she's collecting stories to use as weapons.
They all think they're hiding something.
They are.
When he said we were hanging out Wednesday after school, I saw the ripple go through the group. A flicker of tension under the surface. I said yes because I was curious—because artists are always studying people, and this group? This group is full of contradictions.
I don't talk much, but I listen.
I hear Nathaniel cracking jokes like he doesn't care, but I see the tightness in his jaw.
I see Rosa's smiles—soft, genuine—and how they shift whenever Elijah's name comes up.
I've drawn her a few times. I don't think she knows. In my sketchbook, she's always looking toward the left—toward a figure I haven't finished yet. One that looks a lot like Elijah.
I spent Tuesday night sketching from memory.
I drew our group in the courtyard—the six of us, frozen in ink. Everyone smiling. But when I looked at the page, something felt wrong.
So I shaded the background darker. Added shadows creeping toward the edges.
When I was done, Elijah's face was the only one I didn't finish.
I couldn't.
People think I'm strange because I don't say much. But words can betray you. Pictures don't.
And right now, the picture I see?
It's starting to crack.