Jackson’s Silence

Bela was beginning to learn something about Crestmore:

Loud people got noticed. Quiet people held the world together.

And Jackson Reyes was the quiet kind.

---

It was the night before the Art Showcase deadline. Bela’s project — a mixed media piece called “The Girl and the Storm” — was nearly finished. It sat on her easel, protected under a drop cloth in the studio.

She came in early the next morning to add final touches… and froze.

The canvas was ruined.

Paint slashed across it. Fingerprints. Someone had deliberately destroyed it.

She stood in front of it, numb. Not angry. Just… hollow.

And then, she heard a soft voice behind her.

“I have an idea.”

---

An hour later, Bela sat on the library floor, shaking.

Jackson was beside her, unwrapping a second canvas. “I noticed your style,” he said calmly. “Mixed media. Emotion-driven. Kinda stormy. I painted this last night, just messing around. But maybe it could help.”

He placed the piece in front of her.

It wasn’t her work — but it felt like an echo of her heart.

The colors were moody and raw. There was space in the center, as if waiting for her story to be added.

“Why did you… how did you know?” she whispered.

Jackson shrugged, not looking at her. “I’ve been watching you work every evening. Not in a creepy way—just… I like the way you paint. You leave pieces of yourself in every brushstroke.”

Bela blinked. Her throat was tight.

She touched the corner of the canvas. “You saved me.”

“No,” he said softly. “You just needed someone to remind you you’re worth saving.”

---

That night, she walked past the boys’ dorm and caught Jackson outside, headphones in, sketchbook open.

“You draw too?” she asked.

He nodded. “Sometimes it’s easier than talking.”

Bela sat beside him on the step.

For a long time, they didn’t speak.

Then, he said, “I was there when you dropped your sketchpad the first day. Before Han Jin hit you with his ego.”

She laughed. “You were?”

“Yeah. I picked it up and handed it back. You didn’t even look at me.”