“Yes, I paint.”
“Show us your painting here,” she said.
I straightened the museum blazer I wore. “I don’t have a painting here. These are famous artists on display. And once a year, we have an art show with amateur art that people can buy.”
“So that’s when we can see your paintings?”
“Maybe.” I clapped my hands together. “But right now, I’m going to show you some really famous works of art.” I was deflecting a four-year-old’s question. How pathetic was I?
I led the kids down the hall and into the room where I had hung all their drawings, lower on the wall than the other paintings, so they could see easier. I’d even rearranged some spotlights to highlight them.
This focused the previously restless group.
I spoke in an official tour guide voice as I said, “Art from the Schoolhouse Preschool is on display today. This is a rare exhibit that we’ve never had before, so it’s extra special.” The kids pointed out their own drawings with loud voices. Even the parents and teacher seemed more animated than they had been until then. I noticed Mr. Wallace in the back. He gave me a thumbs-up. As the group filed out, Mr. Wallace walked with them, talking to the teacher as he went.
I began taking the drawings down one by one. The skill level of the four-year-olds was more or less the same. They could draw circles with eyes on them and sticks for legs and arms. They could draw a sun or a rough tree. But there was one drawing that was quite good, that was well above the skill level of the others. This was how I’d been with my art at a young age, ahead of the curve. This was what prompted my parents to put me in classes.
Feet scuffing along tile caught my attention, and I looked up.
Cooper’s smile greeted me.
“You’re here,” I said both surprised and happy.
“Do you know how tempted I was to sneak up and scare you? What had your undivided attention?”
I held up the drawing I’d been looking at. It was a girl standing under a rainbow. It was obvious it was a girl; she had more than just a circle head. She had arms and legs and a body. She wore a purple dress.
“Cute,” he said. “Did you draw that?”
“Funny. No. A four-year-old drew this.”
“Is Mr. Wallace putting it in the show?” His voice was sarcastic.
“Shhh,” I hissed. “Don’t say stuff like that here. He’s everywhere.” I looked around, but the room was empty.
“Maybe I should say stuff like that here. Maybe it will make him think.”
I sighed and pulled down the remaining drawings.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “What was I supposed to notice about that four-year-old’s drawing?”
“Probably nothing.” This child’s picture may have been ahead of the curve now, but everyone would catch up with her soon enough. I stacked the papers together and looked up at him. “I thought you were out with your family.”
“We just grabbed dessert this time, so we’re done. And I have something for you.”
“Okay.”
“We were leaving the Cheesecake Factory and they had one more piece of white chocolate raspberry left. One! And I thought, it’s fate. Or whatever you like to call it.” He brought the white bag with colorful stripes out from behind his back.
“You’re the best.”
“I know. Now come on. Let’s go sit on the overlook so you can share that with me.”
That night I went home and set up a small canvas. I painted a fish. At first I painted it realistic, as if viewing it underwater. But I realized it didn’t feel right. How I’d been feeling at the spa, how I’d felt at Cooper’s race that day, didn’t match up with what I’d created. I changed the painting. I made the fish warped, bent at a weird angle, its parts not aligned quite right. I made the water around it choppy, almost murky, unclear. I stepped back and studied the final product. That was how I felt.
NINETEEN
How had I never gone to a typical party before? What was I supposed to wear? Sundress? Shorts and a tank top? Something fancier? Was I supposed to put on more makeup than normal? I thought about calling Lacey to ask, but I felt stupid. I should’ve known this stuff. Plus, she was probably busy setting up for her party. I called Cooper instead.
Cooper picked up after three rings. “You’re not bailing on this thing, are you?”
“No. Elliot is picking me up in an hour.”
“Wait, what? I thought you’d drive yourself so you wouldn’t be trapped there.”
“I know. It was a moment of weakness. The real question is, what are you wearing?”
“You need to say that in a sexier voice for that line to work. Like this: What are you wearing, baby?” That last line he said low and raspy.
“Gross. I wasn’t trying to be a pervert. I meant it for real. What are you wearing to this thing?”
“Oh.”
I could almost see him look down at his outfit. Like he was just now, with the question, discovering what he was actually wearing. “Shorts and a T-shirt.”
“Not helpful.”
“Wear a sundress and flip-flops. Mascara. Some lip gloss.”
My mouth opened and then shut again.
“I pay attention to what girls wear, Abby.”
“Thank you! Now I need to go get ready.”
“I’ll see you in a bit. Look for us when you guys get there.”
“I will.” I had already planned on it. He was the conversation starter and kept the conversation going and knew when to end the conversation. He made being social so much easier.
Elliot arrived at my door right on time. He looked nice, in a collared polo and cargo shorts. His normally untamed dark curls were styled off his forehead. My grandpa answered. “Elliot, good to see you. Come in.”
“He doesn’t have to come in. I’m leaving. See.” I stepped around my grandpa and out onto the porch.
But Grandpa didn’t let go of the hand he’d been gripping in greeting. He pulled him inside. “Of course he does. He needs to meet your mother.”
I groaned. “Elliot. I’m sorry this is being made into a bigger deal than it is.”
“It’s fine,” he said with a smile.
My mom joined us in the entryway. “Hi, so great to meet you,” she said, giving Elliot a hug. “Thanks for taking my daughter out.”
“Yes, it is such a chore,” I said.
My mom playfully hit my arm. “You know what I meant.”
“Can we go now?” I didn’t need to be more embarrassed.
“Come see the living room first. People love to see the living room. It has a lot of Abby’s art. Her paintings are like windows to the world.” She talked while leading the way, and Elliot followed.
“Mom. I will get revenge for this. You might want to sleep with one eye open tonight.”
Elliot gave all the appropriate responses—turning a full circle to take it all in, oohing and aahing at the right times. My mom beamed.
“We could just stay here tonight,” I said, sitting on the couch. “I’m cool with that.”
My mom put up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m just proud. Get out of here, you two. And great to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too.”
He smiled at me as we walked outside.
“I’m sorry about that. She likes to brag.”
“I can see why.”
Not sure what to say to that, I just shrugged.
Elliot drove a Jeep with no doors. After climbing in and driving up the street, I began to question my clothing choice. The wind whipping through the cab made it so I had to hold my sundress down.
“Sorry,” Elliot said, noticing my challenge. “I should’ve put the doors on. I was trying to be cool.”
I laughed.
He reached into the back seat and produced a blanket. “Want to put this over your legs?”
“Yes, please.” It helped a lot.
“You look really nice, by the way.”
“Thank you.” I occupied myself w
ith the blanket on my lap, tugging down the sides so it wrapped fully around both legs.
“You really are an amazing painter,” he said after a few minutes of silence.
“I’m . . . thank you,” I decided to go with. I didn’t want to have to explain how professionals saw me—underdeveloped.
“Is that what you want to do after high school? Some sort of art school?”
“Yes . . . I think.” That’s what I’d wanted to do since I was eight. That’s what I’d wanted to do until Mr. Wallace put it in my head that I might not be good enough. Now I was worried that I wouldn’t make it at art school. That everyone would be better than me. That I wouldn’t even get into the winter program, let alone art school after I graduated. “What about you?”
“Yes, me too.”
“You too what?”
“I want to go to art school.”
“What? You paint?” He had my full attention now.
“No. Well, I mean, I paint a little, but I sculpt more.”
He was an artist. Hadn’t I told Cooper less than a month ago that my relationship goals included dating an artist? “How come we haven’t had any art classes together?”
“I do private lessons,” he said in a mumble, as if he didn’t want to admit that.
“Oh, Mr. Private Lessons, excuse me,” I teased.
“I know. It sounds so pretentious.”
“I was just kidding. That’s great. It’s not like we have sculpting teachers at our high school. I’d love to see your stuff sometime.”
“Sure. That would be great. I’d like another artist’s opinion.”
“Not sure my opinion amounts to much, but I do love art.”
“You’re the most talented artist at our school. Your opinion would mean a lot.”
“You’ve seen my art at school?” I asked, surprised. I hadn’t seen any of his art.
“I visit the art room a lot. You’re good.”
“Now you’re just throwing flattery around haphazardly. You have to be careful with that. It can get away from you.” I suddenly remembered something Rachel had said what felt like ages ago now at the movie on the beach. “Wait, did you ask my friend Rachel about my art once at Starbucks.”
“She told you.”
I nodded. He was mystery boy. She had said I should ask him out and here I was on a date with him. Not only did he appreciate my art but he was an artist. It was like all my relationship goals in one. Was it fate?
“You okay?” he asked.
“What? Yes.” I looked to my right, away from Elliot, trying to clear my head when I saw something. “He’s still there.”
“What?” Elliot asked, understandably confused.
I pointed. “That man chained himself to a tree. He’s been there for like four days.”
“Why?” Elliot asked.
“I guess some housing development wants to tear it down. He’s trying to save it.” There was a big bulldozer parked to the right of the tree that hadn’t been there last time. Nobody was inside of it. It sat there like a reminder or a warning of what was about to happen. “Do you think he’s eaten anything? Or is he starving himself as a statement too?”
“I have no idea. I hope he’s eaten something.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever been that passionate about . . . well, anything,” I said.
“You can’t think of anything you’d chain yourself to in order to save?”
“My family, of course. My friends . . . maybe.” I added that last word with a smile. “But nothing that couldn’t talk.”
“I guess I can’t think of anything either,” Elliot said. “Although . . .”
“What? You thought of something?” I asked when he didn’t finish.
“If I say it, I’m going to sound pretentious twice in one night.”
“Now you have to say it.”
“There’s this sculpture I did. It took me months, and I poured my soul into it. If someone told me they were going to destroy it, I might pull out a chain. Not sure if I’d follow through to the bitter end, but I’d call their bluff for sure.”
He’d sculpted something he was that passionate about? I let my mind travel through all the paintings I had ever done. Sure, I’d be sad if someone wanted to destroy them, but . . . like Mr. Wallace had been happy to point out, apparently I’d never poured my heart into a piece.
“See. Pretentious,” he said, and I realized I hadn’t responded.
“No. Not at all. That’s cool. Now I really want to see your stuff.”
“Now I’ve set your expectations way higher than they should be.” He smiled my way and then turned onto Lacey’s street, which was already full of cars. I looked up and down the road until I found Cooper’s car, parked on the other side. I immediately relaxed. Cooper was here, and my date was proving to be very interesting. Maybe I’d actually enjoy this night more than a night on the pier watching fireworks. Maybe this would be my new thing. We parked the car and walked up the hedge-lined path.
“Abby!” Lacey said when she answered the door. “And Elliot. Did you come together?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yes,” Elliot said. “Thanks for having us.”
She moved aside and held her arm out. “There’s food and drinks in the kitchen and my dad is barbecuing out back.”
Her house was full of people. “Just a small barbecue, huh?” I asked, with a smirk. I already knew she didn’t do small parties.
She shrugged. “Yeah . . . it got a little bigger. Let me greet a few more people and I’ll meet you out back.”
Elliot and I walked through the house, which wasn’t as big as I had imagined it would be from all the talk at school, but it was nicely decorated and updated. A lot of people we passed I recognized from school, but a lot I didn’t. I saw Cooper across the pool, in a group of people, talking animatedly, his hands flying all around him. He must have been trying to convince his audience of whatever he was saying—that’s when he’d get super animated like that.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Elliot asked, nodding his head toward the barbecue off to our right. Smoke filled the air above it, accompanied by the smell of cooking meat.
“I’m okay for now. Do you want something?”
“I’m good. Look, there’s Cooper. Should we go say hi?”
“Sure.”
“Abby!” Cooper yelled in excitement when he saw me. Iris was by his side, and she waved at me. I smiled back.
“Everyone,” Cooper announced loudly, “this is Abby and Elliot.”
A few people said their own names. The others I already knew.
“Abby, remember that one time I pushed you into the pool at that hotel where they had the art you wanted to check out?” Cooper laughed. He’d pushed me in after we looked at their ballroom full of paintings. We’d been on our way home anyway. Then he jumped in after me, probably knowing how mad I was going to be. But we ended up splashing each other until hotel management came and kicked us out.
“Yes, and if you do that tonight, you are dead to me.”
“Someone needs to be pushed in.” He looked at Iris with a flirty eyebrow raise.
“No way,” she said. “I agree with Abby. Death.”
We smiled at each other.
Lacey joined our group by hooking her arm in mine and laying her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t know you were bringing a date tonight,” she said under her breath. “I was under the impression that you and Cooper . . .”
“Nope.” I said just as softly back.
“By choice?”
She must have caught more of my rambling confession at the theater than she’d let on. “Nope,” I said.
She was quiet for a moment and I couldn’t see her eyes, but I assumed she had been studying Cooper when she said, “Well, he smiles too much and doesn’t know how to dress anyway.”
I held in a laugh. Those were both things I liked about him.
“And Elliot is a cutie.”
We had mumbled this exchange quietly, b
ut definitely not subtly, and when I glanced across at Cooper, he gave me a questioning stare.
I shook my head.
Then his eyes went to Lacey’s arm still linked in mine, and I knew what his expression was asking—what is that all about?
“Do you want a burger?” Lacey asked me, louder this time. “I want a burger.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Come on, Elliot, let’s go get food.”
He followed after us. At a long table on the patio, we each filled our plates with chips and watermelon and burgers.
“Let’s take this over there,” Lacey said, pointing to a lounge chair under a tree that was miraculously empty.
I sat at the top end of the lounge chair, and Lacey gestured for Elliot to sit on the foot end, facing me. She dragged a chair from the pool area and sat alongside us.
“Thanks for coming, you guys.”
“Thanks for the invite. How did your auditions go?” I asked.
“They went well. But that’s always how I feel, so we’ll see.”
“Auditions?” Elliot asked.
She waved off his question. “It was nothing. I should check on my guests,” Lacey said. “You two have fun.” Her conspiratorial voice was back, and I knew she had planned this. Then she was gone, leaving me alone with Elliot.
TWENTY
Complete awkward silence followed Lacey’s departure. I took several big bites of burger to try and justify it. After swallowing my mouthful, I panicked. Could I really not hold a normal conversation outside my friend group? The image of that lone fish swimming toward my foot crept into my mind, and I wasn’t sure why. But then I realized I was feeling the same anxiousness now. Once I had let it happen, I was fine. Just give this a chance, I told myself.
Crickets literally chirped in a nearby bush and Elliot’s eyes were drawn to the sound. Then he smiled. “And the crickets break the silence.”
I immediately relaxed with a laugh. “Kind of ironic.”
He nodded to where Lacey had retreated. “For an actress, she’s not very subtle, is she?”
“I don’t think she was trying to be. Subtle is not necessarily her thing.”
“She got me over here alone with you, so I shouldn’t be complaining.”
My cheeks went pink, and his statement was followed by a long silence that I thought we had already conquered but was apparently back for round two. I tapped on the plastic arm of the lounge chair, then ate some watermelon. “What is your favorite thing to sculpt? What do you always go back to?”