THE PICASSO PROJECT

by Carol Anne Shaw

  "Just please look at the chip, Mr. Redman. And then you can still bust me if you have to. I don't care." Eddie grabs a hook out of the box and holds it in front of Principal Redman's face. "Look. See? Look closely. You can see the camera. And in the back, right there. That's a USB port and a slot for the card. This guy isn't messing around. You can't just buy these at your local hardware store."

  That gets Principal Redman's attention. He takes the hook from Eddie and studies it closely. Then he picks up the memory card. "That will be all, Edward. Thank you."

  "Are you going to check it out?"

  But Principal Redman goes quickly to the door and motions for Eddie to leave. "Thank you, Eddie."

  Eddie walks out into the hallway but places his hand against the door before it closes. "Mr. Redman?"

  "Yes, Edward?"

  "That guy. Mr. Kirk? Randall? He's a snake."

  "Okay, son."

  The door clicks shut, and Eddie finally allows himself to exhale.

  ***

  When he gets to his next class, there is a note on the door that says, "No class today. Reading break. Please use the library or quiet space for a free reading period."

  There is a collective sigh of relief, followed by loud whoops as most of Eddie's classmates head for the exit door to the parking lot. Reading break. Yeah, right.

  But Eddie isn't going anywhere. He's staying put. He's not budging until that douche bag Randall is dealt with. Redman must have read the memory card by now.

  He looks over his shoulders, half expecting to see Maya or Jasmine, but thankfully, neither appears. The last thing he wants is to have to explain the whole "custodian issue" to them. After this, Eddie wants to forget Randall Kirk ever existed. He wants to erase that entire day from his memory for good.

  He doesn't have to wait long. An hour later, an RCMP cruiser arrives in the parking lot, and two police officers get out. They walk into the school, and past Eddie, who is hanging around near the water fountain. He watches them as they head straight for the front office.

  A moment later, Eddie hears Principal Redman's office door open and click shut again.

  Eddie waits, conscious of the fact that Randall won't stay on the ball field forever. It's only a question of time before he returns to his office and discovers the missing memory card.

  The door opens, and the officers and Mr. Redman walk quickly down the corridor to the stairs.

  Eddie slinks along behind them and ducks into the supply cupboard. He leaves the door open a little and makes himself small near a collection of mops and buckets.

  Seconds later, he hears the main door open and the jingle of keys.

  Go to your office, asshole, Eddie thinks, and thankfully, Randall does.

  There are raised voices, followed by shouting, and then the custodian's office door is thrown open. Eddie hears a loud scuffle of footsteps traveling the length of the hall. The main door opens and closes, and Eddie holds his breath as he watches Principal Redman walk past him on his way back to the stairs at a fast clip, jingling change in both his pockets.

  Sucks to be him right now, Eddie thinks.

  When the coast is clear, Eddie slips out of the cupboard to see the police officers put Randall Kirk in the back of the cruiser. They have his laptop as well; one of the cops has it gripped tightly under his arm.

  The relief Eddie feels is palpable, but he needs to sit down. He needs to find a way to erase the image of Randall's fat face from his mind. Now. Forever.

  It's over, dude. You gotta let all that shit go.

  He sits on a chair at the end of the hallway and counts to fifty. Then he counts to a hundred. His hands are trembling, so he sits on them to make them stop.

  It's over.

  It's okay.

  It's gonna be okay.

  ***

  He stops by the art room, but Mr. Mackie isn't there. He walks in anyway, deciding to have one last look for his missing sketchbook. He's torn his locker apart, checked all the corners of Jasmine's boathouse, looked in the lost and found, but it hasn't turned up. Probably someone found it and trashed it. Had a good laugh at old Eddie DuMont's most inner thoughts, and then tossed the book into the nearest dumpster.

  "Jesus," Eddie says out loud. "Quit trash-talking yourself, man." And then he smiles because he hadn't intended to make a pun.

  He pulls a brand-new sketchbook from the shelf where Mr. Mackie keeps all the art supplies. It's not that big a deal. He'll just start another one. He can cut and paste in the drawings and journal entries he's scribbled in his notebook since his old book went AWOL.

  New life.

  New book.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  The graduation ceremony takes place in the gymnasium. It takes up most of the afternoon, and after half an hour, the temperature climbs back up to an almost unbearable high. It must be the hottest June on record on this part of the island.

  Eddie and the rest of the graduating classes sits perched on the bleachers, caps on their heads, sweltering in their gowns.

  But the heat doesn't bother Eddie one bit. In fact, he could easily stay like this forever, because he did it. He got to this place on the bench. He's wearing the stupid cap and gown, and in just a few minutes, he'll have his diploma in his hand.

  He checks out the throng of guests who fill up the gym. They are all sitting on those awful fold out chairs, side my side, sticking together with sweat—a sea of parents and siblings and aunts and uncles.

  Maya sits in the front row. A Cheshire-cat grin lights up her whole face, but she is the only relative here for Eddie.

  He smiles at his sister; grateful she is here. He is proud of them both—proud that they managed to pull it off.

  As though sensing his thoughts, Jasmine reaches for Eddie's hand. Her parents have returned and are sitting in the middle of the crowd: her mother, an older version of Jasmine with the same dark eyes and energetic way of speaking. And her father: tall, lean, and quietly confident. Eddie liked them right away. They seemed solid. They seemed anything but crazy. No wonder Jasmine turned out so awesome, Eddie thinks. Raised without crazy.

  The return of Jasmine's parents means Eddie and Maya can't stay at the boathouse anymore. It's gonna be tough, Eddie thinks. The digs are nice, but it's the warmth of Jasmine at night that he doesn't want to let go of.

  He looks over at her parents, who are smiling. They look proud, he thinks. They look as though being stuck in the hot gymnasium, sweaty beyond belief, watching their daughter graduate from high school, is the only place they want to be.

  For a brief moment, he lets himself think about his own mother. She's at peace now, he thinks. All that is over.

  "Hey," Jasmine whispers, squeezing his hand a little. "You okay? You're zoning out."

  Eddie blinks, and squeezes her hand back. "Nah, I'm good. I'm great."

  Jasmine smiles; her brown eyes are soft and full of kindness.

  "One more day, Eddie," Jasmine whispers. "It's your birthday tomorrow."

  Eddie nods, and closes his eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. It all starts now, he thinks. This is the moment.

  "Edward Harrison DuMont!"

  Hearing his name makes him jump. Jasmine pokes him in the ribs. "Go on!" she hisses.

  On rubber legs, Eddie walks across the gymnasium floor to where Principal Redman stands at the polished maple lectern.

  He grabs hold of the principal's outstretched hand, and shakes it, then accepts his diploma, rolled and tied with a black ribbon.

  He can hear Jasmine whooping from her seat, and his kid sister is standing up and clapping like he's some kind of rock star.

  Principal Redman places a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Congratulations, Edward. I wish you nothing but the best."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "I mean it. You get out there and make your mark, Mr. DuMont."

  Eddie takes his diploma and walks back across the floor to sit in the space beside Jasmine. He casts another look at the crowd on the floor and
gives Maya a big thumbs up.

  He smiles, and through his own tears, can see that his sister is crying, too.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  They're walking along the trail behind the school, the one that runs past the church and adjoining graveyard.

  The air is warm and still. It buzzes with insects and the faint whir of hummingbirds as they dip and dive over the hot pink foxglove blooms that have sprung up everywhere, seemingly overnight.

  "Why'd you want to go for a walk?" Maya asks. She is half-skipping beside her brother, like a little kid, her eyes dancing.

  "I dunno," Eddie says. "One last trip around the ol' campus, I guess. Plus, it was hot as fuck in there, sis."

  "Holy shit. Did you just swear, Eddiot?"

  "Yeah. Guess I did."

  Maya laughs and runs her hand along the top of a patch of purple phlox growing near the church fence. "Does it feel weird, Eddie? You know, being done school and everything?"

  "A little. But...it mostly just feels good."

  "I bet Mom would have been proud," Maya says. "She was always going on about how smart you were."

  Eddie stops walking, and tugs anxiously at the collar of his shirt. He's been putting this off long enough, but it's time. His sister needs to know. This just isn't his secret to keep.

  He clears his throat, but Maya reaches over and touches his arm. "She's dead, isn't she."

  "What?"

  "Mom. She's dead."

  Eddie's eyes fill up and his throat constricts. "Jesus, Maya. How did you know?"

  "I don't know. I just did. I mean, I know you, Eddie. I know you went to Victoria that day. I watched you walk out of school and get on the bus. I knew what you were doing. But then, after you came back, you never said anything. If she had been alive, or someone had seen her, I know you would have told me. But you didn't. So I knew."

  Eddie pulls his sister to him. "Man, I'm so sorry, Maya. I should have told you way sooner. It's just, we had so much shit to deal with. There never seemed to be a right—

  "Was it drugs?"

  "What? Yeah. It was. Coke. A heart attack, I think."

  Maya bites her bottom lip, but she doesn't say anything. At least, not for a while.

  They walk past the graveyard in silence. Someone has been by to cut the grass, and the stones look suddenly revitalized. There is a fresh grave near the fence—a marble slab, it's epitaph reading: "Tamara Michaelson, January 16, 1963 - June 1, 2018. Forever shining."

  "Eddie?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Am I a monster?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Is it awful that I'm not that sad?"

  "You mean about Mom?

  "Yeah."

  "No. You're not a monster, Maya."

  "I mean, it's not like she was a great mother, right? But still...I feel weird, because I just don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel."

  "I don't think there's a right or wrong way to feel, Maya. I think you just feel what you feel. And you try and get through it."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. Really."

  "How do you feel?"

  "You really want to know?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. Well, I feel sad. But not because she's gone. I feel sad because we didn't get the kind of childhood we should have had. We didn't get to feel safe. We didn't get to feel protected. We didn't get to be kids."

  "Dad was so scary sometimes. Mom, too. I never felt safe when I was little. Except when I was with you."

  "We got through it, sis"

  "Do you think we should try and find him?"

  "Who? Dad?"

  "Yeah."

  "Is that what you want?"

  "No. Not really."

  "Me, either. And here's the thing. You know that whole, "blood is thicker than water" thing? Well, I call bullshit. Because I think family is about the people who stick by you. The people who have your back. Sharing the same DNA means sweet frick all."

  Maya smiles and takes her brother's hand. "You're like freaking Dumbledore, Eddie. And I'm not even kidding."

  Eddie smiles, swatting gently at a bee buzzing near his ear.

  They walk the rest of the way back to school in comfortable silence.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  "You don't have to do this, Jazz," Eddie says as he watches Jasmine pound a stake inside one of the tent loops.

  "I'm perfectly aware of that." She reaches into the canvas bag for another stake. "Now, quit being so useless and help out."

  "We didn't need your tent. It's so hot out," Eddie says. "We could easily have just holed up behind a tree or something."

  Jasmine drops her hammer and walks over to Eddie. She places her hands squarely on his shoulders and looks at him in the eye. "Eddie?"

  "Yes?"

  "It's grad camp-out. Everybody is camping out over at Tinder Ridge. If I wasn't sleeping in a tent with you tonight, I'd most likely be doing it with someone else over there." She points toward Tinder Ridge, the farthest end of the wooded area where she, Eddie and Maya have pitched their tent.

  "What?" Eddie feigns horror. "You're telling me you'd be in some other guy's tent?"

  "Noooo," Jasmine says slowly. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I'd be holed up in a tent with a bunch of chatty girls taking selfie shots for The Gram and not sleeping at all."

  "Okay, okay. I surrender."

  "Good. Now grab the fly and get cracking. Just because it's your birthday, doesn't mean you can totally slack off, you know. Honestly, your work ethic is less than impressive."

  "Man, such a tyrant," Eddie teases under his breath, reaching for the tent fly.

  ***

  Eddie, Jasmine and Maya of are eating a frozen Sara-Lee vanilla layer cake—the closest thing to a Birthday cake Eddie has seen in years -- while they sit on fold-out camping chairs outside their tent.

  "How many people do you think will show up tomorrow?" Eddie says later on.

  "Hardly anyone," Maya insists, chewing. "It's the last day. They'll be absolutely nothing to do. Let's ditch."

  "No way!" Jasmine says. "We have to go. It's, you know, kind of a big deal." She fixes Maya with a beady stare. "You know...yearbook signing. Tearful farewells. Life advice from teachers. Stuff like that."

  "I don't need to go for that," Eddie says through a mouthful of cake. "I'd rather spend the day at the lake and go swimming."

  "Well, too bad," Jasmine says. "Because we're all going. You can swim after."

  Eddie gives Jasmine a strange look, but he gets it. Girls like that whole yearbook scene. If it means that much to her, he can suck it up for a couple of hours.

  Much later, the three of them lie side by side in their sleeping bags inside the spacious tent, talking about nothing in particular. There is no discussion about life after this moment. No talk of summer plans. No, "I wonder what we'll be doing this time next year?" conversations, because they all know that would be an awkward conversation to have.

  Jasmine rests her head on Eddie's shoulder and lays a palm on his chest. It's all he can do not to reach for her, but Maya is there, and besides, it isn't that kind of a night.

  "Happy Birthday, Eddie," Jasmine whispers. "You'll have to wait for your present, though."

  "Oh, really!"

  "Ew," Maya says. "Shut up, you guys. I'm not asleep, you know."

  "No, no," Jasmine chuckles. "That's not what I mean. I have an actual birthday surprise, I think. I mean, it's not ready yet. But, it will be. I hope. Soon. Even tomorrow."

  "Very cryptic," Eddie whispers back. "I'm thoroughly intrigued."

  "Goodnight, most awesome graduating brother," Maya says sleepily from the other side of the tent.

  Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots.

  Eddie smiles into the dark. "Goodnight, Princess Little Star."

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  By the time the three of them show up at school the next day, it's almost ten o'clock in the morning. The hallways are buzzing with students, most of whom are busy with th
e signing of yearbooks and cleaning out of lockers.

  The energy is high and though he doesn't want to admit it, Eddie does feel a little weird. Hard times or not, it will be strange to leave this place. He's going to miss visiting Cora, and then there's the art room, and Mackie. Mackie is a decent guy; one of the best.

  "Let's go pay a visit to the art room," Jasmine says, as though reading Eddie's mind.

  "Can I come, too?" Maya asks, her wide blue eyes even larger than usual.

  "Good idea," Eddie says. "Maybe my sketchbook will finally show up now that everyone's taken away all their junk."

  Maya and Jasmine exchange looks, both of them trying hard not to smile.

  "What?" Eddie says. What's up with them, anyway? They've been acting twitchy all morning.

  "Nothing." Jasmine links her arm through his. "Let's just go."

  Mr. Mackie is at the back of the art room, going through old canvases, deciding which ones to gesso over for September and which ones are too far-gone to keep.

  "Eddie!" he says, brightening. "There are a couple of your pieces here. One of yours as well, Jasmine." He separates three canvases from the pile and leans them against the cupboards under the sinks.

  Eddie studies his paintings. Not his best work, he thinks. He painted them at the beginning of the year when he had no clear direction; they're both muddy and neither one is well composed.

  "Gesso over them, Mr. Mac," Eddie says. "We both know they're crap." But then he looks at the third painting. It's one of Jasmine's: small, only 12" x 12", a delicate little painting of the two loons on the lake. A half-moon sits in the upper left corner of the canvas, spilling diamond-like light over the surface of the water.

  Eddie picks up the canvas and holds walks over to the window where it's brighter. He likes it. A lot. It reminds him of their first swim, and Jasmine, and the things that they did in the middle of the night in the boathouse while the loons had their own romantic interludes out on the water.

  "I want this one, Jazz?"

  "Really?"