Pam absolutely loved the painting. The strokes of paint seemed flowing and free as if they weren’t concerned with the course the water may take them in. They never resisted the uncertainty and instead chose to blend with the other colors, leaning on them for security. She loved the messy and imperfect lines that only enhanced the beauty rather than take away from it. The gentle blends of color were soothing, no abrupt stops or changes. The watercolor painting spoke more words than a voice could. 

Dwight had seen the way Karen snuck in her moves. He watched her erase on the paper, and he turned red with frustration. He wasn’t mad at Karen, he actually really enjoyed talking with her and being around her, but the way she took advantage of the weak made him angry.

Dwight would never consider Pam a friend, yet she was a girl and girls were in need of protection. He knew it was his assumed duty to be a male figure of protection for her. Mose had taken years to talk, but it was because of some malfunction, not fear. Regardless, Dwight found himself feeling something for Pam. Absolutely not sympathy. Shrute’s don’t “do sympathy”. Obviously, Pam wasn’t weak, it was brave of her just to go to school in her position. Dwight honestly just wanted to make it easier for her, but he would never admit that… or that he had sympathy.

Dwight strongly made his way towards Pam.

“A long time ago, art was used to assert dominance,” Dwight whispered. 

Pam looked up, clearly confused. She stood still, the only movement was her lip quivering. Dwight walked away as if he were some mysterious creature, but then clumsily tripped on his own feet. It almost made her giggle thinking about his poetic ways being spoiled by his inability to walk. She knew he had good intentions, and it took a few seconds for her thoughts to slow down, pay attention to the yield sign and listen to what he said. 

She watched him make his way to Jim who was looking at another painting, but watching Dwight coming towards him. Through the shape of his eyebrows and the way they furrowed with false concern made it clear he was messing with him as he explained his problems with his recent beet garden.

••

The children piled onto the bus. Pam stood right next to Jim, straightening her knee caps to steady her shaking legs. They got on, with Dwight chatting away to Karen about his beets, stalling her. Pam got in after Jim, her eyes keeping track of each step she made as she neared the seat. She sat on the school bus’s worn down chair. Jim’s smiled spread across his face, his eyes glistening from the sun rays permeating the window. The two sat next to one another. 

Jim was thrilled to be sitting next to her. He knew he was lacking in being a part of their friendship, but Karen seemed to fill his mind with “if she wanted to be with you, she would talk to you” and “she never makes an initiative to be with you, why are you wasting your time?”. After a while he started to get nervous, he was an eight year old after all. It was too much for his inattentive brain. 

Today, her action she showed him she wanted to be with him, that the feeling of connection between them was mutual. That was all he was in need of to prove to himself that she really did enjoy his presence and wasn’t annoyed. It was the reassurance he was unaware he was looking for. She was always so shaky, it only made him more nervous that he made her anxious. Eventually, he realized she was shaky for excitement and finally stepping out of the glass box her mind put her in, taunting his ability to reach her. They understood one another, and the bus ride home was the best of his life. 

Every so often, he glanced back at Karen to check on her. She was clearly annoyed that passive Pam had pushed herself enough to take the seat on the bus. It wasn’t that Pam pushed and forced her way on, it was the way she silently slipped in, unnoticed until Karen found herself next to Dwight. Jim’s acceptance and lack of resistance made her mouth taste bitter with disappointment. Karen wasn’t really sure what to think. 

On the other hand, Dwight beamed with joy at Pam’s courage. Jim mimicked the feeling. Karen just sighed as Dwight shared about his brother new chicken named “Fear”.

Jim could tell Karen was sour, as if he could taste Granny Smith just looking into her brown eyes. He had already accepted that Karen would give him a long talk about it. His mom always told him Karen wasn’t a good friend. Jim had written it off as his mother being over protective. She always seemed over protective with Larissa and her friends. His mom was keen on convincing him that Karen was green with envy, and that her frequent mentions of “Jim, if you are my friend you can’t talk to her or else we aren’t friends,” was actually rather unkind. 

In this moment, Jim started to see it. Karen tuned out Dwight staring intently at the back of Pam’s gentle curls, pinned back with a shiny clip. He compulsively twisted his head around to make sure Karen wasn’t going to do anything irrational. He wasn’t sure why Karen had such a problem with Pam, but he assumed it was just her way of coping with any jealousies. Karen had moved schools plenty of times, always up and around. Having inconsistent friendships and surroundings was bound to cause her to try to latch onto something, even if it was a friend. Jim was glad to be a source of consistent routine for her, but he wanted more liberty in his friendships. Pam was clearly nervous, her lips in a tight line and her leg bouncing uncontrollably. Ms. Flax came over and kneeled to her level and whisper something quietly into Pam’s ear. Pam gave a nod, the sun making a sparkle on her gold stud earring as she let the sun get level with her earring. Ms. Flax stood up and promptly walked to the back of the bus. 

••

Pam’s keeper of words was loosing it. He was racing in circles frantically, pacing a fine line. He was trying to shove her courage back into the glass box he had previously built around it. Beads of cold sweat were forming and her eyes were glazed over in panic. Ms. Flax made a gentle eye contact with her and swiftly made her way. Watching her approach made Pam’s leg bounce faster. 

“You ok, Pam? What wrong, hun?,” she voiced her concern. “If it gets too much I’m at the back of the bus, ok?” Ms. Flax gave a soft pat on Pam’s thigh, then left. 

Pam gave nod, she could feel Karen burning a whole into her back, but she refused to give in. Or maybe she would give in. The twenty minutes back to the small school seemed to be tinned out for forever. Finally the view of middle school was in view, and her lungs remembered how to breath.