by RH Tucker
“Hey, maybe the whole traditional art gallery setting needs to be upgraded,” I say, mostly joking, as Jen laughs.
"No,” he groans. "We don't create art to be hocked like a piece of jewelry or a car. It's called art for a reason. It has meaning. And purpose. If people want to buy it fine, but I'm not about to have you," he points a finger at Lana, "showing off my work, trying to be some saleswoman."
For the most part, I agree with Micah, though he is much more of an artist's artist than I am. He loves to create and find the beauty and meaning in the work of others. While I love looking at other people's work, I've never gone in depth in trying to understand their reasons or meaning behind their work. I just know my own. If people want to interpret my work, that's fine. But I don't like to try and decipher others.
“I think you’re just jealous,” Lana says, regaining her playful attitude.
“Of what?”
“You don’t want your beautiful girlfriend to take all the attention away from your paintings.”
"Yep, that's it." He smiles, rolling his eyes, but she plants a kiss on his cheek anyway.
As she pulls away, she nods to something behind us. “Look,” she says in a loud whisper.
We all turn and see Carter walking down the hallway. I notice his sunglasses, something he doesn't usually wear. Jen nudges my side with an elbow, and when I turn to her, she wiggles her eyebrows. Trying to keep my cheeks from becoming red, I flash her a dirty look to stop.
“Did you guys hear?”
“You’re the one who always gets the juicy bits before lunch,” Jen says.
“Oh, my God.” She seems a little flustered, so I know this must be a good rumor. “It’s not just one. It’s, like, multiple things. First off, I guess he and Jeremy got in a fight during practice.” I look over at Jen. I remember Carter falling down, but there wasn’t any pushing or shoving. “I guess their bromance is kaput. But then, everyone’s saying half the team hates Carter now.”
“What? Why?” Even though we only talked a little bit, I find myself feeling defensive of him.
“He lied to them all. I guess he was making up stories about hooking up with girls.”
“Ew. What a sleaze,” Jen says.
“That’s not exactly true.” Micah jumps in. “Brittany came up to Taylor in English and asked if it was true. She heard her name was being thrown around.”
“And?” Lana looks at him.
“I guess Carter never hooked up with Sarah. Supposedly, he hasn’t hooked up with half the girls people say he did.”
“So, he just told everyone he did?” Jen asks.
“Well, no. Not exactly. He just let everyone think he did, without correcting them.”
“That’s one way to go about it.” Jen laughs.
I should feel a little irritated. Or even annoyed with the news. But I've gotten to know Carter, and he seems decent enough. He's usually always with his friends, so watching him walk down the hall alone, a pang of sympathy hits me. I feel the urge to check on him. I mean, he was kind enough to come and apologize to me, even when I told him off. If all his friends do hate him now, he's probably feeling pretty bad.
I start to gather my stuff when Jen looks over at me. "Where are you going?"
In all honesty, I don’t know, because I have no idea where Carter is headed. But I want to try and catch up with him.
"Nowhere." I look over, and she shoots me a look that says she knows. "Stop."
“What’s going on?” Lana asks.
“Ask Micah,” Jen says, giving him a smirk.
“Me?” He looks at her, then me, then at Lana. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You didn’t notice anything kind of funny last week when we were in the gym?” Jen looks at Micah, who looks heedless. “Ugh, never mind. Text me before lunch ends,” Jen says to me as I leave, knowing she’s going to tell them my embarrassing story of checking Carter out during his practice.
I head the direction I saw him walking, but as I go further along, I can take two pathways. One leads to the courtyard and the other leads to the student parking lot. He could've gone to the parking lot, maybe to try and ditch the rest of the day. If that's the case, I won't make it there before he leaves. So, I head to the courtyard.
As usual, it’s mostly empty when I get there. A few people are off to the side, sitting on one of the benches, eating their lunch. I see the large oak tree and a leg sticking out behind it. When I get closer, I can see Carter sitting at the base of it. One knee propped up with his arm over it, he’s got the sunglasses on and seems to be looking up at the sky. With not much of a breeze, his hair stands up in its poof.
Getting closer, I notice he has earbuds plugged in. His foot taps along to the rhythm of whatever he's listening to. I don't know what I should do because I'm standing only a couple of feet away and he should see me, but he hasn't moved or said anything. I lean over and tap his shoulder.
“Oh,” he says a little louder than necessary, before pulling out the earbuds. “Hey, Emma.”
"Hey," I say, and he flashes a grin, revealing his dimple. "Sorry, I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
“No, not at all.” He motions for me to take a seat.
Sitting down, it feels different than last time. We planned to meet then. This time I just sought him out. He stares at me a moment, expecting me to say something, probably wondering what I’m doing here. I’m starting to wonder the same thing. That’s when I point to his phone.
"What are you listening to?"
He glances down at his phone and seems to get nervous. I'm not sure because the glasses are covering his eyes. "Oh, um, Empire of the Sun."
“Really?” My eyes jump to where his should be, but I only see my reflection in the lenses.
“Yeah.”
Maybe it’s because he seems nervous, but I start to feel more at ease. Enough so that I hold out my hand, asking for one of the earbuds. He smiles and gives it to me, and that’s when I hear the song; Walking on a Dream.
“That’s a good one.”
“Yeah.” He lifts his shoulders. “But I think my favorite is probably I’ll Be Around.”
“Really?”
I remember texting with Baller, and it was one of the nights we covered likes and dislikes. He said Empire of the Sun was his favorite band and we talked about which songs from them we liked. That was one of his.
“How come?”
“The lyrics.” He looks away, and even though I can’t see his eyes, it’s like he’s thinking of something specific. “They talk about running and chasing flames on a dare.” He glances at me, giving me a half smile. “It feels like all I’ve been doing is chasing flames.”
The way he says it sounds remorseful. Like he's made a mistake about things. Then I'm reminded of what Lana and Micah said about the rumors. Maybe he did make mistakes. Deciding to change the topic, I hand him back the earbud.
“What’s yours?” he asks.
“DNA," I answer without pause and start reciting the lyrics.
As soon as I'm done saying them, I realize he's still holding my hand, and I nervously look away, taking my hand back. Trying to regain my focus, and the whole reason I sought him out, I look back at him. "You okay?"
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
He peaks an eyebrow over the sunglasses. “Why, did you hear something?” I can’t stop my cheeks from flushing. He reaches up and takes off his sunglasses. “I’m sure there’s no hiding when it’s plastered on my face.”
"Holy crap." I see the black eye, and my hand instinctively reaches up, but I stop myself from touching his face. "So, it's true?"
"That all depends," he says, pulling out his other earbud, wrapping the cord around his phone. "If you've heard the story that I was hooking up with McCormick's girlfriend behind his back and my teammates jumped me after practice, then no. It's not true. But, if you heard we got into a fight after practice, then yeah. That one's true."
“That’s the one. Only it was during p
ractice.”
He laughs. “No, it was after.”
“Why?”
He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Stupid rumors. Rumors that got out of hand. That I let get out of hand.” He looks away, dejected.
"So, all the stuff about you and Sarah?" He shakes his head. "Wait, so Jeremy got mad at you because you didn’t hook up with her.”
He finally meets my eyes again. “Not so much that, but that I didn’t tell him the truth. That I let him, and the other guys think it happened.”
“Why’d you do it?” I throw my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” He smirks, staring at me. “Who are you, Emma?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, who are you? What makes you up? What makes Emma, Emma?” he asks with a smile.
I stare down at the ground, unsure. "I've never really been asked that before." I look back at him, and he seems to enjoy that he's asked me something so peculiar. "I don't know. I guess I'm honest. Thoughtful. At least, I try to be. I like to look at the bright side. Jen says I'm a little too much of a Goody Two-Shoes, but it's okay because she evens out our friendship with her sluttiness. Her words, not mine."
Carter lets out a laugh and a full smile, one that draws me in.
“You are. I don’t know about a Goody Two-Shoes, but honest. And thoughtful.”
“Carter, you barely know me.”
"Nah, I know you," he says with a smile. The look he gives me, it's as if he does. "But me? All that I know I am is basketball. I've played all four years. I'm good at it. Freshman and Sophomore year, I wasn't anything else. I didn't have anything else. Then in Junior year, before the season, I hooked up with a girl …" He pauses, looking away and I see his Adam's apple bobble nervously. "Anyways, after that people thought I was cooler. It's so stupid. Even if I barely held hands with a girl after that, if the rumors started, I didn't do anything to stop them. Because with every new rumor, a new echelon of this cool persona I was building for myself grew. When the rumors started spreading about Sarah and me after homecoming, well … I'm going to sound like a douche, but after homecoming, I was on another level."
“You’re right.” I look at him and smile. “That does sound douchey.”
“Thanks.” He laughs. “So, that’s why I didn’t say anything. That’s why I let almost everyone believe the rumor. Rumors.”
I don’t know what to say or how to respond. I can’t imagine people thinking of me a certain way and letting them believe it, just so I could get popular. But the way he explained it, it’s just what it is. He let it happen. So people would think he’s something he wasn’t. Would I ever do that? I’d like to say no, but what if it was something I really wanted? What if letting people believe one thing about me helped me in my art? Or get into a great art school? I don’t know.
“Can I ask you something?” Carter breaks the silence. “That day I met you here when you were waiting for someone. Did you ever meet them?”
Chapter 29
Carter
I don’t know when I started holding my breath, but I finally realize I’m not receiving any oxygen as I wait for Emma to answer. When I walked past her and her friends in the quad, I had no idea how I was even going to approach her. I came to the oak tree, the one place I could find a little solace in the wake of everything being blown up in my face. I wanted to connect with her. I want her to know who I really am and not what all the rumors say I am. Then, to my surprise, she came and found me.
I have no idea why she’s here, talking to me, but she is. And when she asked me about the rumors, I’d been more honest with her than I had been with anyone. Even Matt knew the truth, but I never told him why I let the rumors keep going and never put a stop to them.
I’m nervous when I admit to listening to Empire of the Sun, but I’m done trying to hide everything. I just have to figure out how much she still wants to meet Texting Me. And I’m scared to death that bringing up that topic will give her a reason to get mad at me. Again.
She shakes her head no and looks away.
“Sorry.” I keep my eyes on her. “How come?”
She looks off into the distance. "I don't know."
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he didn’t tell me.”
“He didn’t tell you why he didn’t meet you? What’d he say when you saw him later?”
“Well …” She bites her lip, still not making eye contact with me. “I didn’t see him later.”
“Oh, does he not go here?”
“No, he does. He has calculus with Mr. Hilton.”
“Oh, so you guys got calc together?”
“Well, no.” She looks at me finally. She doesn’t look upset, more like she’s wondering why I’m asking. “I just know he has that class.”
“Oh.” I stare at her cautiously, knowing what I’m going to say next is going to be the biggest risk yet. “So, do I know him? What’s his name?”
She blinks at me. Biting her lip again, I can tell she’s debating with herself whether to tell me or not.
“You don’t want to tell me?”
“No, it’s just …” she lets out an exasperated sigh, dropping her head. “I don’t know his name.”
“What?” I try to sound confused without sounding judgmental.
Picking her head up, she wrinkles her nose at me. “I don’t actually know him.”
“Come again?”
“Well, no, I know him. We’ve talked a lot, but … only through text. We’ve never met.” She drops her head into her hands.
With her eyes covered I let myself smile at her cute awkward and nervousness. I quickly press my lips together, trying to hide the smile, as she looks back up. “Wow, okay. That’s interesting.”
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. And it's not interesting. It's stupid." She frowns.
“Why?”
“Well, at first it was interesting." She makes air quotes as she says it. "And I got to know him, or at least, I thought I did. But then he stood me up. That day I saw you, we were supposed to meet for the first time. I think that’s why I was so mad and was a complete bitch to you. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, you did.” I smile.
“Okay,” she says after a pause. “I did, but now I know you a little better.”
“Eh, you probably know me better than you think you do.” Easy, Carter. She gives me a sideways look, unsure what I mean, and I remind myself to choose my words carefully. “So, he could be anyone?” I look behind her and see a guy walking down the corridor. “He could be that dude, right there?”
“No, he’s not anyone.” She gives me a determined look as I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t know who he is, but I do know him. He’s smart. And nice. And he’s considerate.”
A feeling of elation washes over me, knowing that’s what she thinks of me. “Well, yeah. Except he didn’t—”
“Don’t bring it up again.”
“Sorry.”
I wait for her to continue but realize I may have crossed a line. She looks deep in thought, and I can't stand that she might be thinking about the day she thought I stood her up all over again. Feeling alone and betrayed.
I keep my eyes on her, speaking a little lower. “Hey, for what it’s worth, it had to be an amazing catastrophe that he went through. I mean, if you two know each other as well as you say you do, if I knew you like that, I’d do just about anything to make sure I met you.”
She stares at me, and I wonder if I've said too much. Even if she hasn't figured it out, I want her to know, and every fiber in my body is urging me just to tell her. Come hell or high water; I should just tell her it's me and let the chips fall where they may. But as soon as the thought of revealing myself enters my mind, the bell rings.
She looks away while I throw my sunglasses back on. Getting to my feet and extending my hand to her, she takes it and stands up. I don't want to let go. I want to hold h
er hand all the way back to class. For the rest of the day. For the rest of my life. But I loosen my grip, giving her the opportunity to pull her hand away. She does, but she smiles back up at me, and it warms me to the core.
“Feel free to walk ahead of me.” I point to my left eye that’s covered by my glasses. “If you don’t want any more rumors started up.”
She lets out a soft giggle. “I’m sure nothing can be as bad as the ones that are already out there.”
“You don’t know McCormick.”
She grins, shaking her head. “Come on.”
Chapter 30
Emma
The only word I can think of to describe the next few days is weird. Weird, because ever since Monday, I haven't received any more texts from Baller. Weird, because my Heartbreak painting has taken this bizarre turn, where I'm adding flakes of gold to it. Weird, because after history Carter has walked me to art class, even though his class is on the other side of campus. And weird, because he's also asked me more about Baller. What kind of things he likes. Why I think he's nice if I've never met him. Sometimes he jokes about his looks, and I reassure him that looks don't matter. Then he switches it to my looks.
“So, if you ever do meet him, you’re not nervous, right?”
“I mean, a little. It would be like a blind date. You never know what they’re gonna think, seeing you—” I feel my cheeks heat up. “I mean, meeting you for the first time.”
“I can’t believe it.” He laughs. “You’re nervous about if he’ll like what he sees.”
“Carter, it’s not that unbelievable.”
“Yes, it is, Emma.” He’s still laughing, holding on to his backpack.
I let out a defeated groan. “It’s not like I’m one of the cheerleaders. Someone like Sarah, or Natalie, or any of them.”
“Come on.” He bumps his shoulder against mine.
“Sorry, I’m not trying to say I’m hideous. I know I look good.” I feel my face go red again. “Wow, not that I’m conceited or anything, it’s just, I know I’m not ugly.”
