It was the first day of first grade at First Steps Elementary. In a small classroom located on the first floor of the main building is where our story begins. Nine children were seated at small round desks, all looking equally anxious. Some were bawling their eyes out, crying for their mothers, while others were seated there, silently, contemplating everything.
A blonde-haired woman and her young daughter were standing in front of the classroom, talking with each other. “Bye, Angie. Be safe.” the woman said, with a proud smile.
“But mommy, I don’t wanna go…” the little girl whined. Her mother chuckled, and whispered something in her ear, before escorting her in.
“Hi, you must be Angelina.” the teacher said, looking up from her class register. She walked toward them, and held Angie’s hand gently. “Come on, you can sit wherever you’d like, dear.”
“I’m scared…” she muttered.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right. We’re all friendly here. We’ll take great care of you.”
Her mother waved her off, as she and the teacher walked into the classroom, and went away, feeling immense pride for her little girl.
The teacher let go of Angelina’s hand and told her, “Go on, you can sit next to whoever you want.”
Angelina looked around for a place to sit, most likely away from everyone else. When she was about to go and sit at the back of the class, a little boy in a blue hoodie walked up to her. His eyes were about as blue as his hoodie, and his hair, a light hazel brown. He looked just about as nervous as her, but was definitely a bit more confident. “H-hi,” he stuttered. “do you want to sit next to me?”
“My mommy said I shouldn’t talk with strangers…” she replied, even more nervously.
The teacher looked at this and smiled. She went toward them, and said. “None of us are strangers, dear. All these kids are your friends.”
“Okay, then. I’ll sit next to you.” she said to the little boy, and headed toward the cubbies where their bags were to be kept. She dropped her backpack in its place, which was reserved with her name on it. The teacher watched as she ran over to the little boy and sat down next to him.
“What’s your name?” the brunette boy asked.
“Angelina,” she replied, with a small smile.
“It’s a very pretty name. My name’s Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you, Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you too, Angelina. Can I call you Angie?”
“Sure!” she chirped. “Can I call you Ash?”
“Okay!”
The teacher smiled at them, as she watched a friendship blossom. Unfortunately, that art class, she also had to watch it be nipped in the bud as a rivalry began to blossom instead.
She placed a few small boxes full of stationery supplies on each table, and called everyone’s attention. “Okay, class. I want all of you to draw anything you want. You can use crayons, markers, color pencils – anything from the Art Boxes on your tables.”
The children all cheered. Including Ash and Angie. Angie reached into the box and picked up her favorite colors, pink, purple and red. It was a somewhat standardized color palette for a little girl, you could say. She first began by drawing a big circle using a black felt tip pen, and adding a pair of blue eyes, a nose and a mouth to it. She drew some blonde heart-shaped bangs falling onto the character’s face, not unlike her own. She gave her new character long hair, and a frilly blue dress, colored in using glitter pens to add an extra shine. It was beautiful, in her eyes. She opened the felt-tip pen yet again and wrote the name ‘Aurora’ at the very top, so as to say her princess was called Aurora.
Ash looked at the drawing, and felt a pang of envy. He wished he could draw as well as her, but in comparison to her princess, his drawing looked like a mess of scribbles. He had tried to draw a superhero, but it seemed very disproportionate. He felt ashamed of it, and wanted to hide it away.
But when he noticed Angie smiling at it, he realized he should try again. He crumpled up his sheet of paper, and got a new one from the teacher. He had a sip of water from his How To Train Your Dragon water bottle. Looking at a picture of Toothless on his bottle gave him a new idea. He opened his black sharpie and got to drawing. He began by drawing the dragon’s head, then its body, then added some blue flames coming out of its mouth.
Ashton felt proud of his work. Angie looked at it in silent awe and jealousy. “Wow… it’s so beautiful!”
“Thanks. So is yours!”
Angie held up her princess drawing and smiled shyly.
“I wish I could draw like that.”
“My sister taught me,” Ash explained. “There’s an after-school art club happening here, which my big sister is part of. You can join if you want. I’m joining too.”
Angelina nodded. “Okay!
"Also, if you're done with the pen, can I have it? I forgot to sign my name." Ash asked, pointing to a pack of sketch pens lying on the table.
"Which one?"
"The... uh... dark white one."
"Dark white? What's that color?" Angie asked, holding her laughter.
"That color that... isn't black, but isn't white either."
"That's gray, silly!" she exclaimed, and burst into laughter. The two kept laughing, until the teacher came and took a look at the drawings.
Ash’s dragon was so cool that everyone just seemed to be attracted to it, as if it was a magnet. Even the teacher appreciated it greatly. She praised him for his skill and creativity, and asked him to show it to the class. Ash felt proud of his work. He went up to the front and showed it off. He explained that he had always loved dragons, and said that he wanted to become a dragon trainer once he grew up. Everyone cheered and clapped, some even asking him to draw something for them.
Angie felt a surge of envy and anger. She had worked hard on her princess drawing, but no one seemed to notice or care. She felt that her drawing was an insignificant mess of scribbles compared to his. She felt invisible, and unimportant. Part of her wanted to rip his drawing apart and make him cry. She wanted to show that she was better, that she was the best.
She decided to take his advice and join the after-school art club, not because she wanted to learn from Ash’s sister, but because she wanted to beat him. She wanted to prove that she was the best artist in class, maybe even at school. But more importantly, she wanted to make him regret ever showing off his dragon.
And so, a rivalry was born. A rivalry that would last for years, and shape their lives in ways they never expected. A rivalry that would test their friendship, their love, and their dreams.
|•|•|•|
For years, the two remained in the same class, ever-competitive, wanting to prove themselves to the other. Ash had always been insecure about his artistic abilities. He felt like he was not good enough, and that he needs to constantly improve and impress others. He saw Angie as his biggest rival, because she was talented and confident. He wanted to prove himself to her, because he wanted to earn her respect and admiration. He also wanted to challenge himself and push his limits. He thought that by competing with Angie, he could become a better artist and a better person.
But, Angie, on the other hand, had always been praised and encouraged for her artistic abilities. She felt like she was gifted and special, and that she could do anything she set her mind to. She saw Ash as her biggest rival, because he was creative and passionate. She was confident in her skills and style, and she doesn’t let anyone or anything stop her from pursuing her dreams. She thinks that by competing with Ash, she can show off her talent and charisma.
For the whole of their time at Elementary School, he had always been better at athletics, art, music — pretty much everything, and yet, deep down, felt insecure. He never felt like he deserved the win, so he did better and better with each round. But all these wins did nothing to gain Angie’s respect. Quite the contrary, in fact. It only made her hate him more and more. Each L she took, she tried to tell herself it was okay, that she could always do better next time.
They always tried to outdo each other, to impress the teachers, the judges, the audience. They never missed an opportunity to mock, tease, or challenge each other. They were constantly at each other’s throats, arguing, bickering, fighting. They were the talk of the school, the drama queens of the art department. Everyone knew them as the ultimate rivals, the sworn enemies, the bitter foes.
Even at class, in the middle of a lecture, they still had to find some way to put the other down.
Like, for instance, in third grade,
The teacher asked a question about the history of art. Ash raised his hand eagerly, knowing the answer. He loved art history and had read many books on the subject. He was confident that he could impress the teacher and the class with his knowledge.
But before he could speak, Angie raised her hand too. She also knew the answer, but she didn’t care much about art history. She only wanted to beat Ash and show him that she was smarter than him.
The teacher called on Angie first. She gave a correct but brief answer, with a smug look on her face. She glanced at Ash and smirked.
Ash felt annoyed and frustrated. He wanted to show off his answer too. He raised his hand again and said, “Excuse me, Ma’am, but I have something to add.”
The teacher nodded and let him speak. Ash gave a long and detailed answer, with many facts and examples. He spoke with enthusiasm and passion.
Angie felt irritated and bored. She thought Ash was being a show-off and a know-it-all. She rolled her eyes and yawned.
The teacher praised Ash for his answer and gave him extra credit. The class clapped and cheered for him.
Angie felt jealous and angry. She clenched her fists and glared at him.
Ash felt proud and happy. He winked at her and showed her an ‘L’ on his forehead.
Even though all this happened, Ash wasn’t heartless. He complimented her drawings, and read the stories she wrote, and enjoyed comics she published combining the two. She had built up on Aurora more and more, transforming her from an amateur drawing made by a first-grade girl, into the main female protagonist of a web comic series.
Every year, there would be a school art contest for classes 3, 4 and 5, which, as one would expect, Ashton and Angelina participated in.
Ash felt a surge of adrenaline as he finished his drawing. He had just won the school art contest, beating Angie by a narrow margin. He had worked hard on his piece, a realistic portrait of his favorite singer. He had used different art techniques to create a stunning effect, as if it popped off the page. He was proud of his work, and he hoped that Angie would appreciate it too. He looked around for her, hoping to congratulate her on her drawing. She had also done a great job, creating a colorful and imaginative scene of Aurora, fighting a dragon. He admired her creativity and style, and he wanted to tell her that.
He spotted her in the crowd, looking dejected and angry. She was holding her drawing in her hands, crumpling it slightly. She looked like she wanted to throw it away. Ash felt sorry for her, and he wanted to cheer her up. He walked over to her, with a smile on his face.
“Hey, Angie,” he said, trying to sound friendly. “That was a great drawing you made. I really liked it.”
Angie looked up at him, with a glare in her eyes. She didn’t want to talk to him, especially not after he had just beaten her in the contest. She felt humiliated and bitter. She hated him for being better than her, for stealing her spotlight, for making her feel like a loser.
She snorted and turned away from him. “Yeah, right,” she said, sarcastically. “You’re just saying that to rub it in my face. You think you’re so great, don’t you? Well, you’re not. You just got lucky this time.”
Ash felt hurt and confused by her words. He didn’t understand why she was being so mean to him. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings or make her feel bad. He just wanted to be nice to her, to be friends with her. He had tried several times, failed several times, but was not ready to give up.
He tried to reason with her, to explain himself. “No, Angie, I’m not trying to rub it in your face. I really do like your drawing. It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
She pushed him away, with a forceful shove. “Save it, Ashton,” she said coldly. “I don’t need your pity or your fake praise. So what? I lost this time. But I’ll get you next time. Just you wait. Be honest, okay? You don’t like the drawing. You don’t like me. You never have. You are, and always have been my enemy, my rival, my nemesis, my… uh…”
She began thinking of more synonyms for enemy, when her train of thought was interrupted by him opening his mouth, to say, “What makes you say that?”
She took a deep breath, and shot him a steely, cold gaze. She decided she wasn’t going to waste her time talking with him. “I hate you, Ash…” she muttered, and stormed off, crumpling the drawing in hand.
Ash stood there, stunned and speechless. He felt hurt by her words. A tear ran down his eye, which he wiped off with his elbow. He clenched his fists, and said to himself the words his best friend had had told him many a time,
‘Don’t let her get to you. You deserved the win. You don’t need her approval or anyone else’s. You’re a good artist and a great person.’
He watched her toss her crumpled drawing behind her. As soon as she left, he took the drawing and stuffed it in his pocket.
‘Maybe, one day…’ he thought, ‘she’ll see me differently. Maybe one day…’
‘She’ll see me as I see her.’
ns 15.158.61.21da2
