Being a teenager was . . . different. For one thing, her homework was much harder - where Harrie breezed through her work, Helena could stare at her papers for an hour without making much progress. But she was treated differently too. Her parents got her an easel for her birthday, and had her room repainted. All her kid stuff was gone (except her pictures, which still hung on her wall) and now she had a larger bed, a proper dresser, and a dozen posters plastered on her wall. Some were movie posters, others for games or bands. Some were just cool designs. In a way, Helena's room became her Fortress of Solitude, and her parents respected her need for her own space. On the weekends, Helena would spend hours in her room, a window open so she didn't inhale too many paint fumes, and cover canvas after canvas with her art. It used to be that when she drew something, it was something she saw or liked or made up. She still enjoyed art, but it had a new meaning now. Anything that ha...
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