by RH Tucker
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I nod and return to my sandwich.
“By the way, Emma,” Micah says. “I saw that one piece you’re working on, in Ms. Hales. The one with the clouds? That looks awesome.”
“Thanks,” I answer but can’t bring myself to look at him. I’ve never liked it when people see my work before it’s finished.
As lunch ends, I head to history and find myself thinking more about my interaction with Carter yesterday. He seemed genuine in his apology, even a little nice. And then he said he had to get to practice. That must’ve been some outburst he had when he found out about the rumor. He always comes off as this smooth player, but I can’t imagine he wasn’t hurt, at least a little. I know if that happened to me, I’d be mortified.
When I get to class, I figure the least I can do is be a little more cordial to him than I have been. Maybe even say hi. But as I get to my seat, I find his empty, along with the one behind it. He and Matt are both on the basketball team, and they miss afternoon classes occasionally.
Oh well, I shrug my shoulders, deciding it’s probably for the best. I wouldn’t want to yell at him again. Getting to art class, Ms. Hales pulls me aside into her office as the bell rings.
"Emma, how are you?" she asks, looking at some papers on her desk.
“I’m fine.”
"Good." Her eyes met mine. "So, I was reviewing some scholarship information, and I thought of you."
“Oh.”
“Yes. I know you’ve mentioned LCAD, and I’ve seen the pieces you’ve put in your portfolio.” I nod, looking down at the ground. I think they’re good, but this is my teacher. Maybe she has a different opinion. “And you know, Laguna is just as expensive as some of the other art schools out there.”
“I know. That’s why I’m applying for as many art scholarships as I can.”
"Your pieces are excellent, and I happen to know someone on the board of the Woodbridge Arts Scholarship committee." My head pops up, my eyes a little wider. The scholarship is the largest one offered. Even if I don't get into LCAD, the scholarship can help a ton with any other college I go to. "I'm not saying it would get you it, but it might up your chances."
“Really?”
“Yes. But,” she stands up and looks out the tiny window of her office, into the classroom, “I really think you shouldn’t submit the portfolio until you have your piece done.”
“Which one?” I look out of the window, towards my easel.
“The large one. The one that looks …” She stops and glances at me. “The one that’s full of emotion.”
My cheeks burn. “You think I should put that in my portfolio?”
“I do.” She smiles.
I'm not sure how to respond. I've drawn and painted personal pieces before. Things that speak to me, but this painting is so intimate. I'm literally calling it ‘Heartbreak'. It's my heart—my soul—on the canvas. Can I put something like that, something so close to me, in my portfolio?
"Well, think about it," she says as if reading my mind.
She walks back to the door, and I nod, walking out of the office and over to my easel. I pick up the waterfall painting I've been working on, I take a second look at Heartbreak, before putting the smaller piece on the easel. Grabbing my paints and brushes, I dip a brush into a marine color, and I'm just about to touch the canvas when I stop. Turning back around, I stare at Heartbreak.
I set the waterfall painting off to the side and grab the large canvas. I have to finish Heartbreak before I can do anything else.
Chapter 23
Carter
Jeremy leans over the aisle on our way back from the game. We were playing Mission Viejo High and doing well, until the fourth quarter. That's when it all fell apart, and they went on a 12-point run, that effectively ended the game. We couldn't catch up after that.
“Dude,” he whispers, bumping my arm. “You know that shit’s not true, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
I’m bummed about the game, but I’ve been thinking all day about how I’m going to fix things with Emma. After missing history today, I think I have a plan, now I just have to work out the logistics.
“You know,” he says lower. “What Sarah’s been saying.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know. She’s just on a rampage ever since the bonfire.”
“Cool.” He nods and begins to turn around. Then he stops and looks at me. “Hey, if I was interested …”
I stare at him like he’s a freak. A legitimate, mutated, abhorrent freak. “Are you serious?”
“What?” He shrugs. “You said at my party to have at it. I mean, I know you’re annoyed with her, but, dude, she’s hot.”
“Yeah, and a psycho.” He lifts his shoulder again, giving me a look that said he’s dated plenty of psychos before. No doubt he has. “Yeah, whatever, man. I don’t care.” Then, just because it annoys me, I add, "If you like sloppy seconds."
He gives me the douchiest, cheese eating grin that only Jeremy can give. “When a girl’s as hot as that, I’ll take sloppy seconds all day. And all night.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
A thought hits me - what if he does hook up with her? What if she tells him that we didn't do anything in that bathroom, except feel each other up and get our hands sticky. I push the thought from my mind, letting out an annoyed sigh. I'm done acting like some stupid player. That's what got me into this mess. Liking someone who hates me, because she thought I was some guy who hooked up with every girl in school.
“Hey, you got the assignment from Mr. Hilton, right?” Matt asks, sitting next to me.
“Yep.”
“And from Mrs. Yanick? The history one that’s due on Friday?”
I nod again, but this time I’m thinking about Emma. Before we left for the game, I picked up the assignment. I can probably finish it tonight or tomorrow and have it ready. But this is my in.
Maybe I can meet up with Emma before class and get her to help me with it. It's a long shot because first I'd have to tell her tomorrow after class. And meeting up at lunch right before class, what can we really get done, work-wise? She might see through it, but it's my only opening, so I have to take it.
The next day starts off great. I'm determined to make my plan work, but as the day goes on, I feel less and less confident about it. It's a stupid plan. Why would she meet me an hour before class to help me with homework? By the time lunch rolls around, an idea hits that might help. I can tell her I want her to double check my work. She's smart, so I want to make sure she thinks it's okay. Yeah, not a whole lot better, but it's something.
Getting to history, I watch her walk in. She's wearing this tight black skirt and high heels, that nearly sends me overboard the moment I see her. She always dresses so differently. No girl in school would wear something like that, at least not for school. It looks like something she would wear on a date. Or for a special occasion. But there she is, the skirt coming down to just above her knees, and her breasts peeking out just enough that it'd make any guy look. Then I remember she has art class next and my mind starts swimming in the gutter, imagining her getting paint all over herself.
Coughing, I straighten myself out and make sure she doesn’t catch me looking. Matt must see what I’m looking at, as he kicks my chair behind me. I can hear him laughing.
When class ends I tell Matt to go ahead, then catch up to Emma, matching her stride.
“Hey, Emma.”
She turns around, meeting my eyes, not as shocked to see me as the last time. “Hey, Carter.”
“Hey.” I clear my throat, determined to look straight ahead and not over at her, where her dress is pushing her boobs up. “Uh,” I stammer. Get it together, Carter. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”
“What?”
“Well, I missed class yesterday,” I start to explain, finding my voice. “And Mrs. Yanick said there was that assignment due tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, see
, I was hoping maybe you could help me with it.”
She stops in her tracks, her head spinning around as her eyes met mine. “Excuse me?”
“No, I mean …” I’m losing it. I have to make it sound better. “Not, help me with it. I can do it.”
“Yeah, because I was gonna say, what was all that 3.95 GPA business?”
“Right.” I let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah, see? I can do it. But, I just want to double check my stuff. Remember, I’m trying to get straight A’s?”
“Matt can’t help you?” She starts walking again.
“Well, he could, but he’s got a lot going on with Student Council.” I crack a smile, hoping to alleviate the mood. “You know, President stuff and all that.”
To my surprise, she smiles too. Thank you, Matt, Mr. Class President.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Really? Awesome.” I take a deep breath, trying to keep from getting too excited.
“What’s your number? I can go over some stuff tonight if you want.”
“Oh,” I shoot her an apprehensive look. “Actually, can we meet up tomorrow? Like, at lunch?”
“At lunch? You want to go over your work an hour before class starts?”
“Yeah?”
This is it. I hold my breath as she stares at me for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, and whether or not she even believes me. I feel like my life's being held in the balance.
"Fine." She waves her hand in the air. "Where do you want to meet up?"
Before I know what I’m saying, I blurt out, “How about by that oak tree? That place I saw you sketching in the courtyard.”
I close my eyes, realizing how dumb of an idea that is. She must hate that place. Even if she doesn't, why the hell would I bring it up? It's too close. She's going to figure it out, and then I'll be screwed.
"By the oak tree …" she says, before gazing down at the ground. She seems hurt all over again.
"Or, in the quad, if you want? Or in the library. Wherever, really."
“No,” she responds with renewed determination. “The oak tree is fine.” She stops and puts a finger in my face, her eyes squinting. “Don’t be late.”
Chapter 24
Emma
Another day, another morning of no new texts. The last messages we exchanged were about my friends hating him, and now I'm wondering if those are going to be the last text messages we send to one another. But I went the entire day yesterday without a text from him, and more importantly, I didn't want to text him. Working on my Heartbreak painting has become a release.
The class before lunch I go over my history assignment. It's a packet covering different events of the Civil War. I went over the homework last night, and I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be for Carter. If he covers different topics than I did, I guess I can just see how good it looks. It still seems weird that he wants to meet up at lunch, right before class, but I'm trying not to think about it. It's not like he's trying to hit on me or anything, right? I mean, who would do that by asking someone to look over their homework?
When the bell rings for lunch I make my way over to the courtyard, and as I get to the oak tree, my phone chimes.
BigBaller27: Sorry I've been MIA lately. Been super busy
A revelation hits me.
Emerald22: It's fine
And it really is.
BigBaller27: How u been?
Emerald22: Ok
BigBaller27: So, just throwing this out there. Remember that time I offered to get u a soda?
Emerald22: Yes?
BigBaller27: Maybe today?
Is this guy for real? He bails on me, and now he wants to act like it's no big deal?
Emerald22: I actually can't talk right now. I'm meeting someone
BigBaller27: Meeting someone???
Emerald22: Just a friend… well, not really a friend. Just a guy from history class
BigBaller27: Should I be jealous?
I can’t help the small grin I get, but still shake my head, because I feel like we’re a long way from him being able to get jealous over me meeting someone.
Emerald22: U don't get to be jealous. Maybe if u would've met me like u said >:)
BigBaller27: Ouch
Okay, that might’ve been a little harsher than I meant it to be.
Emerald22: Sorry
BigBaller27: Don't be. I deserved that. Hey, I gotta go. I'll try to text u later
Emerald22: Ok
As much as I've wanted to exchange texts with him, I don't feel anything. No nerves from exchanging messages and no sadness as he cuts the messaging short. Maybe being stood up by him has affected me more than I think.
I take a seat at the oak tree, again not feeling anything. No remorse or heartache over remembering the last time I was here.
“Hey,” Carter says, behind me.
“Hey.”
"You like Pepsi?" He asks, and before I look up, I feel something cold against my arm. I look at the bottle, then up at him.
His brown hair sways in the light breeze. He’s wearing his letterman’s jacket, his name on the side of it, and his blue shirt underneath is just small enough that I can see his chest stretching the fabric. Handing the soda to me, his smile seems genuine, which make me stare at the dimple in his left cheek a little too long.
I shift my eyes back to the soda. “I do, actually. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.
I've seen him do that a few times now, mostly when he seems to get nervous, which confuses me. Why would he be worried about a soda?
“I mean, it was that or Coke. So, I had a fifty-fifty shot.”
“Thanks.” I pull out my history packet. “So, what’d you cover?”
He drops next to me, and I realize how close he's sitting. I never get flustered with Carter, but as I notice how close his knee is to mine, my breath catches. Clearing it, I take a sip, trying to re-focus on the homework we are going over and not that fact that my bare knee is gazing his jeans. I mean, that’s silly, right?
"I covered the First Battle of the Bull Run."
“Really?” I ask, unimpressed.
“What?”
“Carter, that’s the first major battle. You couldn’t have picked something a little more intriguing.”
“Sorry.” He smiles, nudging me with his shoulder. I swallow a gulp of soda again to calm my anxiety.
Is it just because he’s never actually flirted with me that I think he’s doing it now? No, he can’t be flirting.
“I had less time to work on it, so I wanted something I could cover well.”
I read over his paper, and he asks to read over mine. I only have his word to go on about how smart he is, but as I read his report, it's excellent. Yes, the first battle of the Civil War is an easy topic to cover, since there's so much information on it, but his words are articulate. And even his handwriting is good, which I don't know why I notice, but I do. By the time we finish covering everything, the bell rings.
“Looks like we spent the whole lunch out here,” Carter says. He gets up and extends his hand to me.
I look at it cautiously, almost like I’m a little girl and think I’m going to get cooties. Then I think about that stupid rumor and how mad he apparently got. I don’t want him to think I believe the rumors, so I calm myself down and grab his hand as he helps me up.
“Sorry, I probably kept you from your friends.”
“It’s okay.” I pull my bag over my shoulder. “I see them every day.”
"Cool." He looks down the hall, before smiling at me. "Well, we're going to the same class. Mind if I walk with you?"
“Sure.”
As we walk to history, I'm acutely aware that I'm walking next to Carter Dixon. Not because I'm super nervous or have a few butterflies in my stomach. Where'd those things come from anyway? Not because he's captain of the basketball team or is one of the most widely known players in school. No, what makes me extremely awa
re of my situation are all the eyes quickly flashing our direction.
Carter must notice my apprehension because he nudges my shoulder. Again, a shot of adrenaline shoots through me. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I nervously look around to see more eyes staring at us. “God, the rumors are gonna fly.” I look over at him and see him look a little anxious. Then I remember the last rumor that was spread about him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”
“You heard about that one, huh?”
I don’t have to see myself to know my cheeks are flush. “Yeah, but I also heard that it wasn’t true.”
“It’s not.” He nervously rubs the back of his neck again. “You know, a lot of stuff out there isn’t true.”
I scoff. "Yeah, but I'm sure a lot is." Carter gives me a hurt look. "Sorry. I guess I shouldn't be one to talk. You might be in the deep end of the rumor pool, but I've never even jumped in. I wouldn't know what it's like."
His hurt look is replaced with a smile. “That’s a good thing. And I can’t say I did anything to stop the rumors.”
I nod, the silence drifting between us as we approach the door to our class. Opening the door, he waits for me to go in first. I walk to my seat and find myself looking over my shoulder, feeling like a total hypocrite, as I check out his butt before he takes his seat.
When the bell rings to end class, a light sigh of relief slips out, as I make my way to art. A welcomed distraction from Mystery Texter, but also from these new feelings for Carter? Feelings? No, they aren’t feelings. They couldn’t be. We just met up for lunch to review homework. That dimple in his left cheek is adorable though. No, Emma.
As class starts, I set up my canvas and stare at Heartbreak. Grabbing some greens, blues, and a magenta, I mix them around and start to add a lonely flower growing out of a brick below the dark cloud I painted. Getting lost in the painting, class is over before I know it, and Ms. Hales walks over to me just as the bell rings.
