Cheer Drawings Novels & Stories

Leo turned his drawing board to reveal a drawing of a calm lake. Daniela and the remaining three applauded him. Rocco showed his drawing next, which was a messy combination of red and black. They still applauded him. Alessio turned his drawing board. His drew a picture of four small boys running in a field. He was applauded. Killian turned to Matteo, the ring leader. “Your turn.” Matteo smiled and turned his drawing board. Killian rolled his eyes. As expected. Matteo drew a picture of a woman in a wedding dress, holding hands with four small boys in suits, and beside them was a stick figure of a man who looked like no effort was put into drawing him.

“I don't know currently, I'll tell you later. And you can't laugh not tell anyone, not even Carmen, Promise??” This must be something great, since Carmen must not see it. “You've my words, simply get your ass up and allow me to see.” Katie sat in her seat and Robert got on one knee close to her with his elbow on the desk. She lifted the cover a portion of an inch, then shut it. “Try not to chuckle.” Robert didn't giggle or say anything. The drawing was of a female champion with her feet broadly planted and her arms over her head, using a giant club. She was wearing boots that went dependent upon her knees, and that's it.

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.

Today is cheer spirit day. It's an event where the entire school community comes together to show school spirit through activities like themed dress-up days. Its primary goal is to boost school spirit and create a positive environment for students and staff. This year, we're to dress as our inner selves-- the person we believe we truly are inside. It could be a fictional character you believe shares a similarity with, a family member, or some celebrity. I attend school wearing my usual outfit. A long-sleeved blouse, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Not in the mood to participate.

It looks like I’m laughing, blissfully happy. My heart slams against my ribs as I flip to the next page, this one a drawing of me from the waist up, a mischievous grin on my face and my long hair covering my bare breasts. I flip to the next one. And the next one. Pages upon pages of my face, my body. There must be a hundred of them. Every single sketch is me.

Mercedes' POV “Can I see?” I asked Carter who shrieked and hud his paper behind his back. “Carter what's wrong? You've been drawing for hours, can I see?” I asked again but the little boy shook his head. “Why not?” I inquired. “I'm not yet done,” he replied. “Carter never shows me his drawings and he laughs at mine.” Penelope pouted as she rose her paper and showed me her drawing. There were four stickmen, two bigger ones on either side while two smaller ones stood in the middle smiling as they held their hands together.

I glanced up at Cleo briefly and she asked, "Are you seriously drawing right now?" I nodded my head yes and focused on making a wolf's ears. She bunched up a napkin and threw it at me childishly. I looked up at her and glared. "Princess. Could you not throw things at me? We're supposed to be adults." Cleo got pissed off and said, "I would act like an adult if you did too. I mean, c'mon. You're drawing, Zander." I showed her the drawing so far. She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. I continued to draw until the waitress came back.

he said shyly. It was a drawing of a woman holding a trophy as big as her. At the top were the words: I Love You. It was the sweetest thing, a picture drawn from the heart for me. I remembered when Leo used to draw me pictures. I hung every one of them on the fridge, proudly displaying his art. It had been months since Leo had given me a smile, much less a hand-drawn picture. “Is that me?” I asked, kneeling down to face Carl. He nodded, biting his lip.

he shouted, running into me. I caught him in my arms, his small body warm, his smile so bright it nearly blinded me. “How was school?” I asked, kissing his forehead. “Good! I drew you something!” He dug into his backpack with all the seriousness in the world and pulled out a crumpled paper. A crooked house, a sun, a stick-figure mom holding hands with a stick-figure boy. I laughed, tears stinging my eyes as I hugged him tighter. “It’s beautiful, baby. Thank you.”

“Hey, angel. You got taller.” She shook her head vigorously. “No, you got shorter.” He grinned. “That’s impossible.” She wriggled free and dug into her backpack. “I made drawings on the plane! Look!” She spread them out on the table — crooked little hearts and stick figures labeled MOMMY, DADDY, and ME. One drawing had a fourth stick figure, taller, in a blue suit. I tried not to look at it too long. Anthony crouched down beside her, admiring each page as though it were a masterpiece. Cameron stood beside me, polite, silent. The faintest strain crossed his face before he smoothed it away.