Alone in the art room

Stephen entered the art room, scratching his left arm nervously. He glanced around, and not seeing anyone, quickly made his way to an empty table to his left. He sat down, his eyes moving over the many colored pencils in front of him. Extending an arm, he reached out to grab one, and glanced around again. The blue pencil was gone in a flash as he quickly pulled it in front of him, and as soon as he had grabbed it he felt very foolish. No one is here, he thought to himself. Stop being paranoid.
He grabbed some paper from a small bin behind him, and set his pencil to it, thinking.

He sat up quickly as he heard a voice. Snatching up his papers he stood and said, 'Sorry, here-um. I'll just get out of your way.' He turned to the door and began walking as swiftly as he could, but just as he thought he was free he bumped into a table and dropped his papers. He winced and knelt down to pick them up again.

He cleared his throat, and after a pause said, 'Um, thanks.' He looked at the picture, without realizing it he had been sketching a picture of the forest. Probably because he was so edgy right now, and the forest calmed him. At least when i'm alone, he thought feeling an uncomftorable squirm in his stomach at the thought of going in with other students. He blinked, remembering where he was and grabbed up the rest of the papers. 'Thanks again,' he said, and stood next to her awkwardly. He took a breath and said, 'So, um, do you draw much?' He made his way back over to the table and sat down. It couldn't hurt to stay.

'Then you'd probably be good at drawing the sea. People are always best at the arts if it relates to somewhere they are comtorable, or enjoy.' he smiled, then catching himself, gave a small cough and turned back to the table. He took out a new piece of paper, and set his pencil to it, thinking.

He watched her for a few moments, then looked back to his own paper and sketched a tree. He smiled to himself, She'll think it's the only thing I can draw. He added a few leaves to it, then paused. He moved his hand and began drawing under the tree. It was a wolf, tall and regal, gazing out from the paper. As he detailed the lines of its tail he sighed; it had been a long time sense he'd gone into the forest. He'd been keeping himself human, and always uncomftorable. He thought if he let himself relax then he might accidentally change.
His brow furrowed at this thought, and he tried to put it behind him, focusing on the picture.