I fought the urge to wipe the smile from her face. I felt like a fool for having tried so hard to be nice to her. But I wouldn’t let her know that, and I wouldn’t be caught looking like an idiot. “Oh, yeah. Zach did tell me about that. I guess I forgot.”
A knot twisted in my stomach and a sour taste formed in the back of my throat. I gave Rachael a soft smack on the back, laughing a bit too hard. “Partners in crime, that’s what he said.” I moved down the fence and found a new spot to paint.
I waited a while and then moved beside Zach. “You won’t threaten to throw a punch if I get too close, will you?”
“Nah. I’m over it.” Zach smiled. It was not as bright as usual.
“So, Rachael was just saying you two are neighbours. What’s it like living next to a real live Barbie doll?” I pretended to flip my hair and wink a bunch of times.
“Her dad and my dad are good friends. That’s it. We’ve hung out some, but she’s not my type.” Again, Zach attempted a smile. He began to gather up the paint and brushes. The painting part of our session was over for the day.
“How come you never mentioned it before? You said you didn’t know how she got here.”
“Look, there’s lots we don’t know about each other. Don’t worry about it, Vic.” His voice was angry and loud. Then his eyes filled with regret and he turned to me and took my hand in his. “Sorry, I guess I’m just worried about Dad and what might happen.”
“It’ll be okay,” I said as we moved along the fence, picking up brushes and supplies. Despite the reassuring words, I was filled with doubt.
“Okay, we’ve got some more graffiti to remove,” said Cathy.
Again, we piled in the cars and headed downtown. Russell and Peter went in the cruiser and Zach, Rachael, and I were with Cathy. I didn’t really feel like talking to Zach in front of Rachael so I just took his hand and squeezed it. Zach squeezed back, like he agreed.
Rachael looked at us and turned away shaking her head. She was the first to jump out when we reached our destination.
“Hey, we’re doing this guy a favour,” said Russell, as he painted over a tag that was messy and hard to read.
“Yeah,” agreed Peter. “You wouldn’t catch us doing anything this lame.” He laughed.
“Not anymore,” added Rachael.
The next stop was different. It was a beautiful dragon done in neon greens and royal blues. The red eyes watched me as I filled my roller with bland grey paint. I felt my own eyes water as my strokes covered the image. Such a waste. I wondered who the artist was.
“This one’s almost as good as yours.” Zach stood beside me. “Sucks that we have to cover it up.”
I nodded and turned away.
When we got back to the construction site, Zach’s dad was already there, waiting, in his SUV.
“See you next week.” Zach gave me a quick peck on the cheek and jumped in the passenger side.
I stood on the sidewalk and watched. I waved at his dad. His black hair was neatly slicked back, his eyes were the same turquoise colour as Zach’s, but they were hard and stern. He had the same square jaw, too, but his looked to be so chiselled from constantly clenching his teeth.
Zach’s father rolled down the window and spoke. “Listen here, Miss. I think it would be best if you didn’t see my son anymore. He seems to have an affection for trouble and I’d say that includes you.” His eyes raked me up and down, taking in my hair, makeup, and piercings. “He needs to clean up his act, and choosing a more suitable girlfriend is a good place to start.”
My jaw dropped. I didn’t even defend myself. It wasn’t the first time someone had judged me based on the way I looked, but this was definitely the first time it felt like such a kick in the gut. I searched Zach’s eyes, hoping he’d stand up for me, but he turned away. Where was the guy who stood up for me at Tim’s the other night?
The window of the SUV rolled back up and the car took off smoothly, leaving me standing there, speechless.
“How’s it going with the art project?” Mom looked up from her magazine devoted to news about the royal family. She was reading about Prince William, Kate, George, and baby Charlotte. Fascinating. I couldn’t believe she had gone back to focusing on the royals when there was so much stuff happening here in the real world with me, Dad, and Elsie.
“Fine. We’re close to finishing the fence. It’s all about houses from the past.”
Mom turned the page. “Will and Kate are planning another tour. Wouldn’t it be exciting if they came to Nova Scotia?”
Thanks for listening, Mom. “Thrilling.”
I opened the fridge, grabbed the milk, and took a big swig right from the jug. Mom didn’t even notice. I thought I’d ignore her rudeness and pretend like she cared. “We all have different painting styles and it’s awesome how they’re all working together.”
“Well, enjoy it while you can.” Mom flipped the page. “It’ll be the last of your painting.”
I stood there and stared at the top of her head; she hadn’t even bothered to look up. I remembered a time when she was interested in what I did. She used to watch James and I paint. She even tried it a few times herself—she had a keen sense of colour. Her paintings were more abstract; she used to say her art was about creating a feeling, not a picture. When she wasn’t participating, she’d still ask us loads of questions. Why did we choose that colour? What inspired the idea? How did we know when the painting was done?
She always wanted to discuss what I was doing. How was school? Did I eat all my lunch? What book are you reading now? But all that was gone.
I waited. She didn’t move. I couldn’t get at her by walking away like I usually did—she’d just ignore me—so I grabbed the magazine, forcing her to look at me.
“I can’t avoid everything that reminds you of James.” My voice was loud and rough. I wanted to be hurtful. I wanted her to get it. “Besides, maybe a reminder of James isn’t such a horrible thing. He wasn’t all bad, Mom. And I know Dad is a painter too. So you might just as well accept the fact that I’m an artist. It’s in my genes.”
“Don’t get mouthy with me, Victoria. I said you weren’t painting anymore, and that’s it.” Mom took the magazine back. She glared at me.
“I wish you’d give up on this perfect family and pay attention to your real one. James left, but I’m still here. And Dad’s right here in the city, too. I wouldn’t even care if Will and Kate were coming for supper.”
“I can’t even talk to you.” Mom got up from the table, clutching the magazine tightly.
I searched her eyes for answers, watching her anger fade and turn to pain. My frustration was gone, but my determination wasn’t. “I’m going to keep painting.”
Mom gave me one last look. For a second, she softened and her shoulders relaxed. I thought she might even apologize, but then she straightened up and left the room.
I sat at the kitchen table with my head in my hands, crying. The sun went down as I sat there, the room growing darker and darker.
I filled my sketchbook with drawings during the week and started another one. This one was the beginning of my portfolio. I chose drawings that displayed my skills. Some highlighted my ability to use contrast, some showed tiny intricate details with fine lines, and some were more imaginative, “out of the box” cartoons. I even drew on the covers of my scribblers and the back of envelopes that came in the mail. It seemed being upset made me more creative. And the more I drew the more ideas I had. Art was the one thing I could count on. It gave me a place to go, a place to dream, and be anything, or anyone, I wanted. It also helped pass the time and gave me something to focus on other than my fight with Mom and the mean words from Zach’s dad.
I texted Zach: “What’s up?”
What I really wanted to know was why he didn’t stand up for me in front of his dad the other day. There was no reply to my simple questio
n, so there was no sense asking the tough one. It didn’t seem right that he didn’t even try to contact me. Surely he could find another phone to use for a single call.
I checked my phone every three seconds. I finally threw it across the room, only to run after it, just in case he replied.
____
I banged my tray on the cafeteria table.
Justine jumped. “Whoa. What’s up?”
“Sometimes life sucks. It’s like riding a roller coaster.”
“Fill me in,” she said, turning off her music.
I eyed Justine and noticed her hair was now lime green. I thought of all the things that had taken place and wasn’t really sure where to begin.
“Let’s see. I went back to see my dad again and guess what?” Justine raised her eyebrows. “He’s a painter! Zach got arrested for stealing his father’s car, he might have to go to juvie, and now he’s acting all strange and pissed off. Oh, and I saw Rachael at Walmart with her mom, and the ditzy act is all a show she puts on to please her mother who thinks she has to look like a dumb model in order to find a ‘good husband,’” I finished, putting air quotes around the last two words.
“Wow. All I did was write a science paper and go to work.”
“Yeah. And I forgot to mention that Zach lied about Rachael. They’re neighbours and they were together when they got caught. Want to switch lives? I would happily write your essays. Plus, I’m sure Mr. Habib would appreciate me being more focused at work again.”
“Naw. Don’t think I could handle it.”
“No one asks if you can handle it,” I said sagely. I ate my sandwich and continued to hash out the month from hell with Justine. It really helped. “Hey. Thanks for listening,” I said as we finished up.
“Sure. I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t really have a lot of friends fighting for my time. You’re going through a tough time, but it’s kind of nice to have someone to talk to.”
“It is.”
“And….” Justine reached into her backpack. “I got a C thanks to your help!” She beamed as she held up her math test.
“Awesome! Good for you.”
“Yeah. Maybe someday we can hang out together outside of school.” Justine looked at me shyly.
“Yeah, maybe.” We just sat there quiet for a few minutes, and that was okay too.
When the bell rang we got up and went to class.
“Here they come again, folks,” said Jeremy with his hand to his mouth, clenching a pretend microphone. “And what a disappointment: this season’s latest fashion experts are still wearing black, black, and more black. But wait, the flashy pink mohawk is now a glorious green!” His eyes got big and he pretended to be impressed. “Way to change it up, girls.”
I shot him a look and entered the classroom without replying.
I slumped in my seat, checked my phone for the millionth time, and shoved it back in my pocket. Looked like I’d have to find a way to make it until Saturday without hearing from Zach.
“What’s up, Vic?” asked Kate. “You seem a little blue.” I couldn’t believe she cared, but when I looked over her eyes were filled with sarcasm.
“Blue? Are you colour-blind?” asked Mark. “There is no blue there. It’s all black.”
“Maybe black is the new blue,” Jeremy added, and he laughed again.
I had enough. I didn’t want to be their entertainment today. I spoke slowly and softly, turning to look each one of them directly in the face. “You know, sometimes your jokes are just mean. If you could take a moment to think of someone other than yourselves, you might be surprised.”
No one said a word.
I got up and moved to an empty desk at the front of the room. As I sat down I heard the three whisper.
“Jeeze, Mark, maybe you should lighten up,” said Jeremy.
“Who knew the black beast had feelings?” asked Mark.
“Just shut up, both of you,” said Kate.
Maybe just saying what I meant was more effective than all the sarcasm.
The closer it got to Saturday the more excited I became. I woke up at 5:30 A.M., showered, dressed, put on my makeup, and grabbed some toast. I checked the clock in the kitchen—it was still only 6. I returned to my room, shoved some laundry in the hamper, and pulled the comforter up on my bed. I checked my phone: 6:15. Come on.
I was at the mural before anyone else and took a few minutes to really admire our work.
Peter and Russell arrived next.
“Hey. What’s up, Vic?” Peter greeted me with a grin that lit up his freckled face.
“Just checkin’ out our handiwork.” I reached out and gave Peter a high-five.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Russell said, brushing curls out of his eyes to better appraise the fence. “We aren’t half bad for a bunch of troublemakers.”
“Yeah. Your style’s got flare, Vic.” Peter pointed to the panel where I had painted a futuristic skyscraper.
My cartooning made the building of rounded glass domes look like it was centuries ahead of its time. Rachael had added trees as tall as the building, bearing fruit that could be picked from each balcony. Russell’s lettering said “Halifax, 2050.” This was one of my favourite panels; the rest of the mural was true to history, but on this one we got to use our imagination and dream of what our little city might look like in years to come.
“Thanks,” I said, flattered. “Maybe someday you’ll decide to use more colours.”
“Nah. I prefer black and white,” he said with a smile. “You understand.”
Rachael appeared. “Hello, boys. Hey, Vic. What are you guys talking about?”
“We were just saying how much we like the mural.” Peter gestured toward the fence, and then gave it two thumbs up.
“Who would’ve thought we could do all this?” Russell stood up straighter and nodded.
“I almost hate to admit it, but I guess Cathy’s ‘small steps approach’ really works,” I said. Bit by bit, we had brought our vision to life. We had incorporated each of our styles, and I think we even came to appreciate each other.
“Well, don’t be telling the whole world we learned something,” said Rachael.
We all laughed and almost didn’t notice the two men in suits and hard hats approach.
One man spoke to the other and pointed in my direction. I figured they were comparing negative opinions of my look, and it pissed me off. My good mood vanished.
“Excuse me, Miss,” he said, addressing me. “Are you one of the artists here?” he asked.
“What’s it to you?” I shot back and moved down the sidewalk.
“Wait! We have a proposition for you,” said the second man.
“What makes you think I’d be interested in anything from you?” I rolled my eyes. The others had moved closer to hear what the two men had to say.
“Sorry, Miss.” The businessman stepped back slightly.
“I don’t think you understand,” said the second man, holding up both hands in surrender. “We wanted to offer you, all of you, the chance to paint another mural on our next construction project.”
“Sure, man,” Russell said immediately, full of enthusiasm. He nodded at Peter.
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” agreed Peter.
“Completely lame. Count me out.” Zach had appeared behind me.
“Yeah, no thanks,” chirped Rachael. “It’s not really my thing.” She smiled at Zach.
I was so happy to see Zach, I didn’t even answer. He looked at me and quickly lowered his eyes. He stuffed his thumbs in his pockets, suddenly transfixed with a stone on the sidewalk.
I was just about to reach for Zach’s hand, but Rachael moved in. She put her arms around his neck and reached up to give him a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks for dinner the other night.” Rachael giggled. “It was so nice
to talk with you and your dad.”
I froze. My throat got tight and I stared, trying to figure out what was going on. I looked at Zach, but he avoided eye contact. He watched Rachael as she sauntered over to the mural.
I walked over and got right in his face. “Really?” I demanded. “Suddenly, making Daddy happy is important to you?”
Zach shrugged and backed away.
I wanted to do something. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hurt him like he had just hurt me. “Zach. Look at me.” He didn’t move or speak. I backed away. “Ken and Barbie—together at last,” I called out for everyone to hear and raised my hands to clap. Why didn’t he tell me before now? Why had he waited until we were here at the project and everyone was around? Even as Goth Girl, it was hard to feel mouthy. I felt stupid and humiliated.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Dad invited her over. I was in so much trouble, Vic. I didn’t know what else to do.”
I swallowed hard, using every bit of strength I could find. I wouldn’t lose my cool. Not now in front of everybody. “So that’s it. You chose Barbie in order to keep your freedom. Good for you, Zach. I’m glad you’re not going to juvie, but you can’t just toss people aside to save yourself.”
I wanted to run, get out of there, but I didn’t. Instead, I willed my legs to carry me back to the mural. I studied one of the spots I had painted so hard I thought I might bore a hole in the fence. “So tell me, Peter, do you think I need more shading here?” I asked.
It took Peter a moment to catch on, but once he did, he went along with me. “Yeah. Maybe a bit here,” he said, pointing. He seemed as surprised by Zach as I was.
“But not too much.” Russell joined us at the fence, showing his support. “I think things are pretty much done here.” He turned and shook his head at Zach. Then he leaned in closer and whispered in my ear. “Vic, the two construction dudes are still here, waiting for your answer.” He motioned at the suits in hard hats.
Goth Girl Page 12
