Chapter 10
The first week of December has a small bite to it and my room is chilly. I can't sleep so I bundle up and head to school while it's still dark to sneak some time alone in the drama department.
I have been drawing a small mural on the wall the past couple of months.
Started out just as a little doodle in the corner when I was bored, but now my brain is on fire turning it into this massive expressionistic piece comprising theater imagery from ancient Greek to modern Broadway. It's like the mural has taken on a life of its own.
I'm trying to keep it secret. I'm torn. I have been overhearing students talk about it wondering who did it and they're saying a lot of really nice things, but I just don't know if I want people to know I'm the artist. I also don't want to find out what happens to students who deface nearly an entire wall of a classroom.
I'm adding a sort of Art Deco flair to one corner this morning when I freeze with my Sharpie in mid air as the drama room door opens from the parking lot.
"Kat?"
Holy shit. Josh?
"What are you doing here?"
I cap my marker slowly turning to see him. He's been running, his sweatpants and sweatshirt are soaked and he's breathing heavy. Unfortunately, so am I. I never dreamed I'd get busted drawing on the school walls at 6.08am.
"Hey Josh, what are you doing here?" I ask him trying to be casual and failing.
"Holy crap," he said coming over to stand next to me and look closely at the mural, "did you do all this? Are you the secret artist everyone's been talking about?"
I give my bottom lip a good chewing before I answer, "I come in early sometimes to work on it before school if I can't sleep. I sketch fast and it's dry before anyone shows up. Please don't tell anyone it's me ok?" I beg.
"Why not? This is gorgeous. Did you do all this by yourself?" he asks. The pride and awe I hear in his voice make my stomach all fluttery and warm.
"Yeah, it was just a little doodle with a pencil one day but it's sort of…grown," I explain.
"Grown? Kat it's a gorgeous 3 foot by 4-foot mural that everyone is talking about. It's amazing. How long have you been able to draw like this, and why don't you want anyone to know?" he asks confused.
"It's just…drawing is really private for me, and…I'm not sure I want anyone else to know. Will you keep it a secret just between us?" I plead putting my hand on his arm and giving it a little squeeze.
His face softens instantly, and he gives me a smile, "of course Kat. Your secret is safe with me."
Famous last words.
Every year right about this time, about a week before the winter break, everyone who wants a chance to audition in January for the spring play slathers on their favorite color lipstick and kisses the back wall of the drama department for good luck.
After we all take our turns leaving our lip prints, we wipe off our mouths, and come back out into the hallway where all the sophomores and juniors have put their names in a bag and last year’s Pucker Up winner draws a name. That person has to be the judge and pick out the best pucker. The Pucker Up contest winner gets the honor of having not only the best pucker, he/she also gets to audition first for the spring play when we come back after winter break.
This is my first year participating in the contest. I gently apply my favorite maroon shade of lip-gloss, wait my turn then go in, close my eyes, and add my kiss to the wall with about 40 other students.
When we’re all back out in the hall and cleaned up, Player picks a name from the hat (he’s won two years in a row, it’s only enhanced his Player reputation). He reaches into the bag drawing out a name he reads from the slip of paper and his face breaks out into a huge grin, “Katie O’Connell come on down!”
OMG! I’m the judge!
There’s a little applause and I’m suddenly so freaking nervous. I never dreamed my name would be drawn. I try to study all the lip prints that spread out on the wall in so many colors from palest peach to ruby red. I know I can’t pick my own of course but I really have no idea what I’m looking for.
Some are smeared, some are huge and sloppy, and a few are small and delicate. I keep looking at each one back and forth all over the wall, but then I see a print off to the left that reminds me of the ones you see on stickers or the old Rolling Stones concert posters. It has full lips with just a couple lines and a little dip in the middle. It’s perfect and I choose it.
There’s a huge WOO HOO! behind me when Player runs up grabbing me around the middle twirling me around then sets me back down on my feet and throws his hands up in the air and yells, “HA! Three years in a row. Suck it wenches!” pointing at all the rest of us.
We’re all laughing and carrying on when an angry nasally voice from the back of the group yells, “She cheated!”
I feel flushed and everyone turns to stare at me.
Stuck up senior Tiffani Sobhiani starts moving people out of the way to come up to us at the wall. She’s the one who has accused me of cheating.
I should have known.
Jaxon sticks up for me and, surprisingly, so does the redheaded guy who has been giving me dirty looks lately.
“There’s no way she could have cheated. She was outside the room with everyone else and we all wiped off our lipstick before she even came in,” Jaxon said
"How could she possibly cheat?” Redheaded guy asks her.
“I don’t know. But there’s no way you could win,” she said staring accusingly at Player, “Not three years in a row!” she said turning on her perfect little heal and starts to walk away.
“Aww, don’t go away jealous. Just go away,” he said still holding me around the waist. Not the best choice of words to say to someone who is used to always having the last nasty word.
“Oh why don’t you just put on lipstick, start dressing like a girl, be a raging homo, and come out of the closet already?” Holy shit! She did NOT just say that! And to Player of all people!
Everyone is dead silent. Jaxon’s face is fire engine red and looks as shocked as I feel.
“I’ll show you who’s in the closet you stuck up little bitch; you and me in the prop room right now let’s go! Two minutes alone with me and I’ll have you singing a different tune while you’re begging me to give you what we both know you need.” I have never seen him so enraged or vicious. I never would have believed our easygoing, laid back Player was capable of it. He’s practically spitting and looks like he’s contemplating dragging her backstage by her hair any second.
She looks him up and down, sniffs and said, “Oh Please. Seriously, who do you think you’re fooling.” And trails off down the hall with her heels going clickety clack, clickety clack.
He lets go of me to start off after her and I jump in front of him grabbing his face pulling him down to look me in the eye.
“Eli! Eli, let it go. She’s not worth it honey. She’s trash, nothing more and everyone knows it. She doesn’t have any friends who love her like you do and that will never change,” I tell him begging him to listen to me. His face relaxes right before he grabs me up in a huge bear hug.
Jaxon told everyone, “No buzz kill like a sore loser. Now, who wants to give the Pucker Up winner a congratulatory kiss to test those contest-winning lips?” and I’m quickly pushed to the side laughing as Player’s lost in a swarm of giggling squealing girls that descend on him fast.
“I’ve got a secret, I’ve got a secret,” Laurel starts to sing.
“Thought we made a deal back in 7th grade? No secrets between BFFs. Isn’t that rule 3?”
“Rule 5. Rule 3 is no sharing boyfriends. Remember Danny Wilson?”
“Oh yeah, Danny,” we both take a minute to mentally reminisce on Danny’s finer qualities before Lauren said, “I think that boy likes you,” she said nodding to Josh in the lunch line.
“Who? Josh? Of course he likes me. We’re old friends you goof.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Pish. Don’t even go there. He’s just a
friend,” I tell her rolling my eyes.
“A very cute friend who is often seen practically attached to you at the hip.”
“He’s new. He’s only been here a few months and doesn’t really know anyone else yet. What would you do if you were me? Tell him to get lost?” I ask her.
“Oh I know exactly what I’d do if I were you….”
“You’re unbelievable,” I shake my head thinking she is, truly.
“I wonder what he’s always hiding under those baggy sweatshirts and hoodies?”
I know she doesn’t mean anything by it. Just Laurel being Laurel, but this conversation is starting to make me uncomfortable and I don’t want to think too much about why. “Finish up you overly hormonal perv, I need to stop by my locker for a couple Advil and get to class a few minutes early to ask about an assignment.”
We spend the rest of lunch talking about our plans for winter break.
I wonder if Josh is traveling or staying home for break.
It's a Friday after school Drama club meeting and Mrs. G is going over what the play is this year, the audition schedule when we come back after break, and getting volunteers to sign up for stage crew, technical crew, and set building. She's asking for a set design volunteer to work on five Victorian style still life portraits over winter break for the play and no one speaks up, “Are you telling me none of you can draw decently and possess a vivid imagination?” she asks.
We're all just sitting there looking around at each other when there's a murmur. Someone has raised their hand. I look to my left to see where everyone else's eyes are looking and see Josh with his arm straight up in the air.
My stomach drops along with my smile. He wouldn't. He promised.
Mrs. G is nice but she’s one of those annoying kinds of teachers that always call students formally only by their last name. Freshman year was hilarious when there were supposedly four different kids in her class all with the last name Smith. I hear her ask him, "Yes Mr. Dawson? Are you volunteering?"
"No, I can't draw a straight line to save my life, but Katie can," he said not meeting my eyes, "she drew the mural and she's brilliant.”
I'm beyond humiliated and mortified. How could he do this to me? He promised me! Then all the low chattering comes to a silent standstill as Mrs. G. walks over to me, leans down and said, "Miss O'Connell, is this true? Are you the one who's been defacing my classroom walls the past two months?"
I can't swallow. I can't speak. Then I feel Jaxon sitting behind me poke me in the back, hard, "YES. I mean, yes ma'am. I…I'm the one that's been drawing the mural," I manage to get out.
"Hmmmm," she said standing back up straight, "well I must say I'm quite astonished. Quite astonished indeed. Who would have ever thought that I would have such a talented, creative, expressive spirit in my class this year. Well done Miss O'Connell. Well done. Keep up the good work. Pick up a description of the portraits from the folder on the top of my desk before you leave. We need five of them," and she turns back to the rest of the class. "Now then, I need three students on the sound board and two who aren't afraid of heights to work the lights up on the catwalk."
I'm in total shock as everyone starts to pat me on the back and shoulders telling me how amazing the mural is and asking me all kinds of questions about how I thought of it and am I going to fill it in with color.
Josh comes over and gives me a little nudge and I shoot him a seething look.
I can't believe he did that to me!
That is how I 'volunteered' to make the family portraits part of the scenery for the senior spring play. I end up deciding to paint them all as frogs dressed in Victorian clothing. I’m so mad at him for betraying my secret. Even though he rather ended up doing me a favor, still, it was not his secret to tell.
Practically the minute the meeting ends I wheel on him, “I should buy you a dictionary for Christmas so you can look up the word because you obviously do not understand what the word SECRET means. It doesn't mean blabbing to a room full of people!”
“I was just trying to help,” he said.
“WHY? Who asked you to help me? I don’t need help.”
“BECAUSE!” he snaps back at me, “because you’re wonderful and brilliant and the most talented person I have ever met and I want everyone to know it too!” Then he turns and storms down the hallway. I can only stand there with my mouth hanging open in shock staring at his back until he pushes through the doors and disappears outside.
Talk about your bombshell announcement.
Talk about your dramatic exit.
The next week flies by with mid-term exams and talk about vacation plans, who’s going skiing (Laurel jetting tomorrow with her family to Aspen then New York), who’s heading to the beach for warmer temps (Jaxon already left today and Player leaves tomorrow), and who’s hanging at home. Josh and I are in the last group.
He and I really haven’t talked about Thanksgiving or him spilling the beans about my drawing, but I can't seem to stay mad at him. I just decide to forget about being mad and we seem to have been closer this week too. We’ve been meeting at my locker, walking together to classes, waiting together for the bus. I'm not really sure what's going on and I decide I need to consult an expert.
“Before the guys get here, can we talk?” I ask Laurel.
Something’s been on my mind a lot the last couple of weeks and I need my BFF’s unique qualifications to help me sort it out before she leaves. There’s no cell service in the mountains where she’s going and neither of us is happy about it. Unfortunately, there is no time, because Josh and Player show up at the same time each grabbing a seat next to us.
“Boys, I love you, truly, but I need a little boy-free talk time with my best girlfriend here before winter break. How about chowing down at another table today ok?” Laurel asks them.
“It’s our table too. Why don’t you move it if you want some privacy?” Player counters.
“Because we were here first, and we’re the girls, so you’re the ones who have to move or else,” she told him directly.
“Or else what? You’re barely an inch taller than the half pint over there, what exactly do you think you can do to make me move?” his nearly six-foot-tall-self challenges.
I give Josh a little nudge whispering, “oh man, you’re about to see Laurel whip out another one of her superpowers.”
“She has more than two?”
“Oh yeah. Way more. Just watch.”
Laurel makes a show of deliberately putting her fork down slowly and turns to face him, “if you don’t find another table pronto, I’m going to say one word. Just one word Eli Rosen, that zeros in on all of your most significant insecurities that will have you fleeing from the table so fast anyone watching will think you’re being chased by the devil himself,” she told him menacingly.
Player leans back trying for unaffected and totally cool, “try me.”
“Really?” she takes a small pause, “tampon.”
“See ya,” Player said bolting from the table without a backward glance.
“Wow. That was impressive,” Josh told her admiringly.
Laurel just stares at him, “what exactly are you waiting for?” she asks him.
Uh oh.
“I don’t have any significant insecurities,” he said with a halfhearted attempt at bravado. So the wrong thing to say.
“Oh, you think so newbie?” she gives another pause for dramatic effect, she is Laurel after all, “condom.”
“Later Kat,” and Josh is up and gone before I can blink.
“You know you’re going to have to teach me that sometime.”
“Some things can’t be taught,” she said with a slightly arrogant grin.
After a few bites of lunch, a few curious, and slightly nasty, looks our way from the guys now on the other side of the room, (including one tongue stuck out at us thank you Player), Laurel looks at me and said, “so, what’s on your mind sweetie?”
“I don’t mean to sound conceited
or anything but, why do you think so many guys are suddenly into me this year?” I ask her with all sincerity. I really want to know.
My boy-crazy, gorgeous BFF who always has guys around her told me, "simple. You got their attention, you’ve picked up a boatload of self-confidence, from where I’d like to know since I can’t take all the credit with just my altering your wardrobe, and now they're noticing you. Guys are inherently foolish and naturally competitive. They either want what they can’t have or they want what they think other guys have. Welcome to the big leagues baby. I have been waiting for you to get here," she said with a dazzling smile.
“I just don’t understand it and it’s just making my head spin. Seniors, football players, Josh, things were even weird there for a while with Jaxon and Player,” I tell her.
“Player? What do you mean weird? When?” she asks me. Laurel suddenly looks serious, and she is only serious about fashion week clearance sales.
“Nothing really, it was just at the beginning of the year, there was this thing in the hallway outside of English class one afternoon when I thought he might be the guy from the Halloween party that’s all.”
“What thing? Did something happen between you two? Was it him?” If I didn’t know her better, I’d say Laurel was anxiously holding her breath. Especially how her voice squeaked on her last word.
“Why are you so somber all of a sudden? Would you care if it was Player who kissed me at Halloween?”
“What, no. No. It would just be weird wouldn’t it? Two of our group hooking up or something you know. Because we’ve all been friends for so long and stuff,” she seems flustered. Very unlike, Miss Cool-As-A-Cucumber-About-Guys Laurel. When she starts chewing on her thumbnail I know something’s up. Laurel never messes up a perfect manicure without good reason.
“You’re hiding something from me,” I look at her accusingly, suddenly forgetting that I’m the one with the problem at our table.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes. Yes, you are, and now you’re lying. You only chew on your thumbnail when you’re trying to come up with a believable lie. I have seen you do it dozens of times over the years with your parents, teachers, and guys, and now you’re doing it with me. What’s going on?”
Her shoulders sag and she lets out a huge sigh, “he made me promise I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Who?”
Her gaze wanders over to where the guys are sitting.
“Josh?” I say in shock.
“NO! Anyone with two working eyes can see he’s totally off the market…hey, wait a minute you included Josh when you were rattling off the list of guys who you thought were into you. Do you and Josh have something going on?”
"No. No, I don't think so, but it's just…he's different when we're not at school. Sometimes I think he might be interested in me as more than a friend."
"He's not the only one," she mumbles.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I'm just saying, he acts like he's really into you that's all. I’m agreeing with you."
Now why isn't that comforting.