I Am Unbreakable: (Josh and Izzy, #2)

by Angela Mack

  “Yeah. Just exhausted. I can’t believe our first year is over!” She settled into my side, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “You should have seen her! She was like a machine in our biology exam. And I heard she had to ask for extra paper during her history exam. Twice!” Sophie threw a napkin at her and Izzy laughed.

  “What the fuck are you drinking, Izzy? We’re supposed to be celebrating the end of the year!” Jess scoffed at her.

  “The last time I came here with you lot, I ended up in hospital. I’ve had enough alcohol to last a lifetime.” Izzy began spooning the whipped cream into her mouth.

  “Oooh, shall we do another toast like last time?” Ollie grinned. Izzy choked, spitting cream everywhere. Jess swatted at his shoulder, but she was trying not to laugh, ruining the effect. Izzy’s face burned bright red.

  “What did you toast to last time?” I asked, curious.

  “Oh, mate, well―ow!” Ollie bent down to rub his shin under the table, frowning at Izzy.

  “We do not need to repeat it,” she glared at him. He shrugged, smirking into his beer as he took a sip. I tilted my head, watching her as she looked everywhere at me, her cheeks still flaming.

  “I’m pretty sure I still have the video if you want to watch, Josh?” Ed called, and I thought Izzy might launch her mug at him, hot chocolate and all. “Relax! I’m only joking, Izzy. I didn’t really video it.” She sighed, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. Ed caught my eye, winking. I nodded, knowing he’d show me the video later.

  I looked around the booth, noticing each happy expression in turn. Ollie murmured something into Jess’ ear, and she threw her head back, laughing. Ed and Jack discussed their plans for football training over the summer, whilst Sophie began telling Izzy about a movie on Netflix she’d watched recently. I watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, listening. She smiled at something Sophie was saying and the light streaming in from the window behind us hit her exactly right. Dust particles danced around her face as her eyes sparkled. I relaxed back into the booth, closing my eyes. If only Ryan were still here, life would be about perfect right now.

  Chapter 33

  Isabel

  I cannot believe he thought he would get away with keeping this a secret. I mean, seriously? Seriously! I smoothed down my navy-blue dress, praying for the tenth time that the seat belt wouldn’t wrinkle it up.

  “And you’re sure that Josh has no idea we’re coming?” Mum flicked her gaze over her shoulder at me from the front passenger seat.

  “I’m sure, Mum. He told me he was hanging out at Ollie’s.” She laughed as I rolled my eyes.

  “Why do you think he didn’t want to tell us?” Dad asked, eyes connecting with mine in the rear-view mirror. He began indicating, pulling into the car park.

  “I don’t know, but there was no way in hell I was missing this!”

  “That’s for bloody sure!” Mum agreed. Georgie pressed his face up against the glass of the car window.

  “Wow. This looks fancy!” he said, noticing the short red carpet leading up to the entrance doors of the hall. There were two students hovering outside, collecting invitations as people entered.

  We jumped out of the car and Mum reached out for Georgie’s hand, leading us over. I fished the invitation out of my bag, handing it to the guy at the door. He looked the same age as me and was quite scrawny, so I couldn’t imagine he was there to actually enforce any kind of guestlist. He must have noticed me eyeing him up, doubtful.

  “Mrs DeLaney can go a little over the top sometimes,” he chuckled. The guy next to him handed each of us a card and a pen; it was a ballot. You could tick a box next to the name of the student that created your favourite piece, as well as a few lines for you to write down your thoughts about it too. I frowned; Josh’s name was missing. Jess had explained the concept behind tonight’s exhibition to me when she’d first told me about it. Maybe it was because he wasn’t part of the class that was being graded?

  As soon as we entered the hall, I gasped, admiring the space. You would never have known that we were in a local cricket club. In fact, I’d been here for one of Dad’s friend’s fiftieth birthday a couple years ago, and it hadn’t looked anything like this. The usually scuffed and grubby walls had a fresh lick of paint, gleaming white. Temporary walls had been erected as well, creating a stark white maze. Each wall had a piece of artwork mounted to it, illuminated by a glaring, bright light above it. There were narrow tables in front of each display, sketch pads lying open on top. The dark wooden floor had been meticulously polished, reflecting the light. As I craned my neck to look around more, I spotted waiters and waitresses gliding by, balancing trays of glasses of champagne or canapes.

  “That kid wasn’t joking,” Dad said, impressed. We walked past the bar and there was a woman standing behind it wearing a shirt, waistcoat and bow tie, polishing glasses. She smiled and nodded as she caught my eye. Someone began tapping a fork against a glass and everyone hushed. We scampered forward, joining the back of a crowd that had started to form nearby.

  “Thank you so much for coming everybody!” A woman clapped with excitement. After a moment of shock, I realised that it was Mrs DeLaney. Her usually unkempt hair was slicked back into a neat twist and she was wearing a long, ankle-length, elegant black dress. She had gold stud earrings and long strings of pearls layered around her neck. She had seriously dressed up for the occasion.

  “This year’s theme for our students was ‘inspiration.’ Now, I’m not very strict when it comes to our themes, I like to let the students interpret it for themselves. They could create something that was meant to inspire other people or, they could create something that represents what inspires them personally.” I noticed people around the room nodding. Most of the women were in cocktail dresses and the men were in suits, or at least trousers, and a shirt and tie like Dad. I immediately felt under-dressed in my simple, plain skater dress. You would never in a million years have thought that this was an end of year event for a sixth form art class. It looked exactly how I imagined a swanky London gallery to look.

  “Each student will be standing in front of their own display, so do feel free to ask them questions. Once you’ve finished perusing, please don’t forget to place your feedback cards in the large box at the front.” Mrs DeLaney stood on tiptoes and pointed over our shoulders. Everyone turned to look in unison, laughing when one of the guys from the front door flourished a bright red, cardboard post box, placing it at the end of the bar. People began to disperse, and I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

  “Hey! You made it!” I threw my arms around Ollie’s neck, smiling a greeting at Bill and Tracey over his shoulder.

  “Well, the douchebag can’t use me as his alibi and then not expect me to show up, right?” Ollie smirked. Dad and Bill shook hands as Mum and Tracey hugged hello, Georgie squeezing between them to wrap his arms around Tracey’s legs.

  “Any idea where Josh’s stuff is?” Ollie asked and I shook my head. Our group shuffled forward, politely scanning the other artwork. Mum stopped to ask a random student standing in front of a watercolour painting a question. Ollie and I moved ahead, breaking away from the group. Georgie slipped his hand into mine, trailing next to me. The further we wound through the corridors of art, the more my nerves built for Josh. Would he be happy to see us? And although Josh was incredibly talented, a part of me was worried for him. The standard of the art was mesmerizing! I couldn’t believe that people my age had created such beauty.

  “Over there! That has to be it!” Georgie started tugging me towards the far-left corner. There were too many people for me to see where we were headed. Georgie let go of my hand, darting forward through a narrow gap.

  “Georgie!” I shouted, peering over the tops of people’s heads. There were quite a few people crammed into this bloody corner. There was a break in the crowd, and I lurched forward, grabbing Georgie by the shoulders.

  “I almost lost you, trouble.” He was peering up at
the display in front of him as Ollie stepped up beside me.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered. The artwork in front of me came into focus and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. All the air had literally escaped from my lungs in one large exhale. My eyes watered and I struggled to focus.

  The other pieces we’d seen so far had been a single piece of art, mounted on a blank wall. Exactly like the paintings you might see at a museum; modern, spacious, minimal. The student who created it stood next to their project, hands clasped in front as they waited to see if anyone had a question. This display was completely and utterly different.

  ‘Spotlight: Joshua Bugg’ was emblazoned in black text at the top of the display. I glanced around, but Josh was nowhere to be seen. Photographs were pinned around the edges, hanging at different angles, and I recognised them immediately. They were of us. Of me and Georgie and Ryan, and Mum and Dad, and Josh. Off centre was a much larger, candid shot of Ryan. He was laughing with his mouth wide, head tipped back, glancing over his shoulder. It was from the photo of the three of us at the bowling alley last year, the one of Georgie, Ryan and I. Except Ryan’s section had been blown up, showcasing his brilliant laughter. And as choked up as I was looking at the photo, that wasn't what everyone was staring at. Smack bang in the middle of the display, right next to Ryan’s photo, was the most magnificent portrait I had ever seen. The large canvas had a replica of Ryan’s photo painted on it, but instead of it being an exact copy, it was painted in shades of yellow: light, creamy pastels; deep, rich golds; dark, almost burnt oranges jumping out of the shadows. Broad, loose brush strokes captured every detail. It looked as if Ryan was basking in a halo of sunlight. There weren’t enough words to describe it.

  “Oh my,” I heard Mum gasp from behind us. She stepped up, touching a photo to the upper left of the canvas. Her fingers snatched my attention and my eyes followed her movement. It was Georgie at the beach, his face scrunched up as he was wracked with giggles, stumbling. I took that the day of Ryan’s funeral, after Georgie had fallen over at the edge of the sea. His knees were caked in damp sand. Next to the photo was another piece of Josh's artwork. This time it was on a piece of paper that had been framed, and although Josh had followed the same style as Ryan's canvas, he had used hues of blues instead. I usually associated blue with sadness, but there was nothing sad about the painting of Georgie. It reminded me of the sea―vibrant and full of life. I smiled, tears falling silently.

  I was about to turn and grab a napkin from the tray of a nearby waitress, when I noticed what was to the right of Ryan’s photo. Hanging a little lower, was another framed piece of art. This time it was a sketch. No paint, no colour―just pure, raw Josh. I laughed, bringing a hand to my mouth as my tears splashed onto my dress. This one was of me. There wasn’t a photo next to it and I had no idea what memory he’d re-created me from. I was sitting in the middle of a field, staring off to the side as the moon rose above me. You could see each stroke of his pencil for every blade of grass, notice each smudge for every cloud in the sky, each pinpoint of every star.

  At the very bottom edge of Josh’s display, was a caption that someone had printed off over several pieces of landscape, A4 white paper. The text ran off one piece of paper and onto the next, as if it were one, long script: ‘My biggest inspiration is my family.’

  The crowd around us grew, as if the paintings were our sustenance. Hardly anyone spoke as they stared at the display. I tiptoed forward, my fingers curling around the edges of Josh's sketchpad. It was bulky, packed with more artwork. I began flicking through, marvelling at how long this must have taken him. I paused, holding the sketchpad open at a random page. A loose piece of paper had been stuck in. It was a painting of a black hole. But it wasn't only black; it was purple and red and brown and so much more. The colours swirled together, capturing your gaze. On the opposite page was photo of a very traditional painting: The Great Day of His Wrath, 1851-3. I noticed Josh's hand-writing next to it. I struggled to read all the words through my tears, but one paragraph stood out.

  This is my pit. The pit I feel like I might pitch over and fall into. He did this. He took him from me. Sometimes I want to give into the darkness, let it swallow me whole. Let it fill me. But I don't. I pulled it out of me instead. I want to stand in the light instead. Her light.

  I rubbed my face, not caring that I was likely smudging my makeup everywhere. Oh, Josh. He didn't even know that it wasn't my light at all. It was his. His love filled every inch of me, making me whole. I wasn't a scared, timid little girl anymore. I was brave and strong and determined. If there was any kind of light shining from within me, it was because he had put it there. It had been his all along.

  Chapter 34

  Joshua

  I splashed water on my face, shivering as the icy cold liquid dripped down my chin and trickled under my collar. I could hear Mrs DeLaney’s voice booming out to her audience as I leaned over the bathroom sink. I eyed my reflection, taking a deep breath. I’d been hiding out in here ever since I’d arrived, feeling awkward, nervous and stupid. Why had I agreed to do this?

  I’d been so shocked when Mrs DeLaney had selected my project as the only piece to display at her exhibition. Did she really think I was good enough for that? Now, I felt ridiculous. I was drastically under-dressed, in my usual faded jeans, black trainers and black polo top (although they were newer, cleaner and also ironed, but still). I’d also avoided turning up early with the rest of the students to help set up, choosing instead to turn up ten minutes late. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing my artwork up next to everyone else’s. It was embarrassing. Everyone would be able to tell that Mrs DeLaney had taken pity on me and that I didn’t deserve to have my art hanging next to everyone else’s masterpieces. I might as well have just stuck one of Georgie’s drawings up for all the good it would do me.

  “Joshua Bugg, are you in there young man?” I cringed, Mrs DeLaney’s voice making my ears itch. I held my breath, as if she could somehow hear me breathing from outside the men’s room.

  “Why on Earth are you hiding away in here?” She crashed through the door, folding her arms.

  “You...you can’t be in here!” I spluttered. The door opened behind her again and she turned, raising a brow at the guy trying to enter. He stopped, eyes wide, before backing out. Her gaze locked with mine.

  “I, er―”

  “You’re hiding,” she interrupted. I shrugged.

  “Get out there, now!” I shook my head, panic filling my body.

  “No, erm, no. I think I should go.” She sighed, unfolding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. If I hadn’t already spotted her when I’d first arrived, I may not have even recognised her. She didn't look like the normal Mrs DeLaney I’d grown used to. I missed her quirky hair and colourful, mismatched outfits. The sophisticated woman standing in front of me just didn’t match up, although I could still see the eccentric fire in her eyes. Or maybe she was just pissed at me.

  “Of all the students I have here with me tonight, why is it that the most talented one is locked away in the bathroom? You should be out there bragging!”

  “The most...you think I’m the most talented?” Fuck off did she really think that.

  “Oh, come now, Joshua. Let’s not be modest.” She fluttered her hands in front of her face. “Miss Tate has already been asking after you.” She huffed at the blank expression on my face. “Miss Tate. You know, the gallery owner I invited here tonight.” Oh. Right.

  “I’m...are you sure I belong here? You didn’t pick me because you felt sorry for me?” OK, judging by the thunderous look on Mrs DeLaney’s face, I had definitely said the wrong thing.

  “Joshua Bugg. I do not show favouritism towards my students, no matter the circumstances!” she squeaked. “Now, I am going to escort you from this bathroom, and you are going to witness with your own eyes exactly how much you most definitely belong here.” Before I could respond, her fingers circled my bicep and she dragged me from the bathroom.

 
“Hey, hey! Isn’t there some law about teachers touching students?" She sent me another withering look before we burst into the hall. I hadn’t fully appreciated how much effort Mrs DeLaney had gone to when I’d first arrived, what with being too preoccupied with finding the best hiding spot. However, as I looked out at all the people, the carefully crafted walkways of art, and listened to the classical music humming over speakers in the background, I felt a little guilty. Mrs DeLaney had helped so much with my art project and here I was, throwing her kindness back in her face. Typical, dickhead move, as usual.

  Mrs DeLaney released her grip on my arm, and I rubbed at where her fingers had been; she was surprisingly strong. She smoothed her hair and straightened her shoulders. I was about to slope off towards the bar when she grabbed me again, this time by the shoulder. She steered me towards a crowd that had gathered in a corner, elbowing her way to the front.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Joshua Bugg!” She smiled at the crowd and the people closest to me took a few steps back to make room. What the fuck? I looked left and right, embarrassed about being the centre of attention. Had all the other students had to go through this?

  I blinked a few times, trying to figure out if my eyes were playing tricks on me. I took in the beaming smiles as everyone started to clap―they were actually clapping me! Faces began to come into focus and my pulse jolted as I saw Izzy standing in front of me. She looked beautiful, her dress skimming over her hips and flaring outwards. So perfect. Sammy and Charlie stepped up beside her, little Georgie in front, beaming at me. Even Ollie, Tracey and Bill were standing right there. Izzy took a step towards me, reaching out with her hand to touch my cheek.

  “You are incredible,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around my neck and although I squeezed her back, I was confused. Why was she so emotional? I pulled back, frowning. She pointed over her shoulder and I turned. My stomach felt like it had dropped from my body. Ryan.