Portrait of Us Page 4

  We cleared our trays and walked around the mall for a while, window-shopping for the most part, though we did buy a couple of small things. I found a red wrap bracelet that went perfectly with one of my dresses, and Ava got dangly silver earrings that brushed her shoulders. We had a great time, and my mood lightened with every goofy hat or wild scarf we tried on.

  I was so thankful for her.

  Ava and I had been best friends since sixth grade when, as the new girl, she sat beside me on our first day of middle school. She hadn’t been shy at all about introducing herself and asking my name. And when she told me she loved my margin doodles, then showed me her own, I knew we were going to be close.

  I glanced over at her as she flipped through a rack of clothes, looking for her size in a dark purple off-the-shoulder top. It was going to be lonely here when she went to Scotland. I was happy for her, but kinda jealous that I wasn’t going on a fun vacation like that. My parents hardly ever took time off work. At least she would have good stories to tell when she returned and maybe have fun flirting with a boy or two while there.

  I pushed all thoughts of Matthew and Scotland out of my mind and focused on enjoying this moment with my best friend.

  Chapter Five

  I could hear my pulse racing in my ears as I stepped through the art studio doors on Wednesday morning. The cool air smacked me in the face. It was already a scorcher out, and the sun was still rising, so I was glad for the indoor reprieve. Still, air-conditioning wasn’t enough to distract me from my pending fate.

  Facing Matthew. Working with him.

  I’d spent a little longer than normal this morning picking out today’s outfit, braiding my hair and twisting it into patterns around my head. It wasn’t for him—not at all. I simply wanted to present a professional front. Mom always told me the clothes made the man . . . or woman. And she was usually right about these things.

  Matthew was already at his station, working on his newest art piece. I made my way to my station and grabbed my mosaic materials to work more on my piece.

  His back to me, I took a moment to look at him closely, study him with an unbiased eye the way Ava had advised me to. The soft hair that dusted the top of his neck. The length of his hands, their strong fingers—no doubt enhanced because of his focus on sports. His striking long legs, firm calves. His shoulder blades flexing beneath the plain black T-shirt.

  There was a tiny freckle above his elbow on his right arm. For some stupid reason, my fingers itched to touch it. I opened the plastic bag and took out the colored scraps of paper, then spread them across the table in front of me. Right now I was going to lose myself in the moment of creating. I blanked my mind, tilting my head to study my work in progress.

  The image started to come to life. The base colors I’d layered in were working surprisingly well. I found the next shade I wanted to work with, for the flower petals, and began gluing them on. It was a rich, vibrant blue, and the petals popped.

  “Lovely,” Teni said as she approached my piece. “I like how you’re building the image from dark to light, making sure you have those rich shadows to give depth to your work. What made you decide to do the flowers in blue?”

  I shrugged. Truth was, I’d been drawn to that shade. The flower vase in front of me had yellow flowers, but my fingers had just grabbed the deep blue paper pieces. “It seemed right for the piece.”

  She patted my back. “Keep working. When class is over, you and Matthew stay after. We’ll go over the rules and work out a schedule. You’ll probably need extra studio time, and I want to supervise your sessions at least once a week so I can assist if I’m needed.” Teni walked over to Henry’s station, and I heard them whispering softly about his work in progress, a charcoal drawing.

  It took me a full ten minutes of working on the flower to realize where that shade had come from. It matched Matthew’s eyes perfectly.

  Boy, did my face flush. I hoped he wouldn’t notice. I couldn’t believe I’d done that. Well, I couldn’t deny that he was attractive, that he had striking eyes. I was appreciating him with an artist’s perspective. There was no crime in that, right?

  Class moved along at a nice clip. I kept my attention firmly on my piece, not looking around at any particular person as I ripped and glued and ripped and glued. It wasn’t perfect, but I had to admit, there was something interesting about the roughness of my piece. I felt daring, like I was pushing my boundaries.

  This was the rush of creating art, that strange, stomach-dropping, nervous anticipation of trying to take the image in your head and re-create it on paper, or canvas, or whatever.

  “I’m so happy about today’s progress,” Teni said as she slipped up the center aisle. “You’re all pushing yourselves in new directions. I know it’s not comfortable, but this is how we grow. Our class is almost over, so take a few more minutes and then clean up your stations.”

  “Hey, Corinne.” A light whisper came from behind me.

  I turned to see an older teen smiling at me. Her red hair curled wildly around her head, and her face and bare arms were covered in spatters of freckles. Her teeth gapped slightly. She wasn’t conventionally pretty, but her face was so friendly I couldn’t help but smile back. However, I couldn’t remember her name, and she didn’t go to my school. How did she know who I was?

  Duh, Corinne, I chastised myself. Teni had said my name out loud when announcing the results on Monday. Unlike me, this girl probably paid better attention to those details.

  “Hi,” I whispered back.

  “I just wanted to tell you I really like your piece.” She nodded toward my mosaic. “I’ve never tried to do that before, but you’re inspiring me to pick that medium for my next project.”

  My heart gave a strange twist. “Thank you.” I stepped back to her station so I could see what she was doing.

  My breath caught in my lungs. The image was already stunning, and she was still in the drawing phase. She’d sketched Teni standing near a window, light playing along the planes of her face. There was a faint hint of a wistful smile as she stared outside.

  “That’s beautiful,” I said.

  “Oh, thanks. I couldn’t resist when I saw her standing there. I grabbed my phone and took a picture so I could capture the moment.” She pointed down to her phone sitting on the table. The exact same image was right there.

  I had to admit, I was jealous. Why hadn’t she gotten picked for the competition? She clearly outshined me with talent.

  “I’m Janice, by the way,” she said, offering a smile.

  “Where do you go to school?”

  “I just graduated from Parma High School. Heading to Baldwin Wallace in the fall. I plan to major in art history.”

  “That sounds great.” I had no idea what I was going to do in college, though my parents were already subtly nudging me on the subject. I cleared my throat, an awkward sensation lodged in my gut. After seeing her art, I felt like she’d gotten cheated.

  “Are you excited about the competition?” she asked, no hint of negativity in her tone at all.

  “Oh, I . . . I’m nervous,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, I don’t do well in those kinds of situations. I don’t thrive under pressure. That’s why I didn’t even enter.”

  Ah. Okay.

  Before I could process it, she continued. “Plus, after seeing the works of people in here—like you, for example—I knew I wasn’t ready.”

  I blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She laughed, a light, tinkling sound, and began packing away her pencils in a box. “It’s been my experience so far that the artists with the most talent often don’t see it. Teni knew what she was doing when she picked you. I can’t wait to see the piece you two create.”

  My gaze slid over to Matthew unbidden, and a warm flush worked its way up my throat. Why was I letting him get to me? Why couldn’t I just shut off this strange feeling I got whenever I thought of him?

  “Well, I wish you guys luck,” she continued. “It
’s going to be quite a challenge, blending your two art styles into one cohesive piece. But I have a feeling when it’s done, you will knock everyone’s socks off.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, gave me a parting nod, then walked out the door.

  I stared at her piece for another long moment. Her style was a lot closer to mine than to Matthew’s—she’d taken great pains to capture true perspective, the nuances and angles of Teni’s figure, the light and dark. But there was a rawness in her sketch lines that showed me she wasn’t as concerned with clean edges as I was. I could see where she’d corrected her lines without erasing the old ones. She didn’t have that compulsion for perfection.

  And yet, her piece came to life and would only continue to grow in beauty as she finished it. Interesting.

  I filed that nugget away and headed to the front of the room, where Teni perched against a table along the wall. Matthew came up right behind me, and I swear I could feel the warmth pouring from his body into mine. I took a small step forward to get out of that mode of hyperawareness. I needed to focus, not think about him like that.

  Like a guy I found attractive.

  “Thank you both for agreeing to work together,” Teni started. She pointed to a stack of magazines and newspapers. “What I want from you two today is twofold: First, get to know each other. You’re both very different people, and yet I think you have more in common than you realize.”

  Why did people keep saying that? And it was so untrue. He and I were nothing alike. I stopped the sarcastic huff that wanted to come out. I heard a small chuckle behind me and peeked at him over my shoulder. His eyes were looking down at mine, and he seemed like he was laughing.

  At me? My spine stiffened.

  Teni didn’t seem to notice the thickening tension between us. “And second, I want you to start brainstorming. Find a subject matter that appeals to both of you. Your project is due to me in a month, so time is of the essence.”

  That got my attention; panic welled up in me again. Could we really do this?

  “I will leave you two alone. Please take the next half hour or so to talk, flip through the papers and magazines on the table, discuss potential subjects. I’ll be over there if you need anything.” Teni left us alone, her soft feet shuffling along the tile floor, skirt flowing around her long, lean legs.

  We stood there awkwardly for a solid minute. Finally, Matthew cleared his throat and held out his hand. “So, I’m Matthew,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “I know who you are.”

  That crooked grin lit up on his face, and my stomach gave a funny pinch. “Just trying to start us off on the right foot. My mom would ground me if she found out I wasn’t remembering my manners.”

  I reluctantly shook his hand. It was warm, strong, engulfing mine. Tanned skin mingled with my dark flesh. I tucked my hands in the pockets of my shorts and fought the tingle in my fingers. “Um, so do you have any ideas?”

  Matthew sat down at a stool, his long legs splayed out in that casual effortlessness that sports guys always had. “Not a thing.” Even his voice had a smile in it. “You?”

  I perched on the stool beside him. “Nothing.”

  We each grabbed a magazine and began flipping through the pages. My eyes were on the pages, but every other sense was aware of Matthew. The soft rhythm of his breathing. The light, crisp scent of his cologne. The memory of his fingers touching mine.

  “Nature?” he asked, showing a spread of a forest.

  I shrugged. I didn’t have anything against the outdoors, but it didn’t call to me.

  “What do you do when you’re not here or working at the bakery?” he asked.

  “Um, I hang out with friends.” Study. Other nerdy things.

  “Any hobbies?”

  I arched a brow. “Other than art?”

  He held up a hand in mock surrender. “Just trying to get to know you. To see if we can figure out something—”

  “In common,” I supplied. If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard that over the last couple of days, I’d be rich by now. “Well, I’m not into sports at all.”

  His lips thinned. “I’m not just a jock, you know.”

  My heart thudded. I’d insulted him without meaning to. “Sorry, I just—”

  “I know what you think of me. Stupid, ignorant jock. How did he even get into this art program?” His words were quiet, but they echoed in my head like he’d screamed through a megaphone. “It’s dangerous to make assumptions about people, especially ones you don’t know.”

  He was right, I knew it, and it ticked me off how easily he read me. “Well, you’re making assumptions about me,” I countered.

  “It’s not an assumption. Your emotions are clear on your face—not too hard for anyone to read,” he retorted. “I can tell you don’t like me. You think I don’t care about this as much as you do because I happen to spend most of my free time on the basketball court. Well, I worked hard to get into this program, just the same as you. I want to win this competition, just the same as you. We’re gonna have to work together to make that happen. And the first step is to pick our subject.”

  With that, he turned his attention back to the magazine on his lap. I did the same, my stomach pitching. I couldn’t see anything on the page, though.

  I’d hurt his feelings. Made him feel like I thought I was smarter than him, through my disdain of pairing up with him, my distaste at his art style obviously evident. My mom would ground me if she knew how rude I’d been.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to him in a tone so low I wasn’t sure he’d heard. I was afraid to look up, but I hoped he could feel the sincerity in my words.

  A long minute passed.

  “Apology accepted.”

  The band around my chest eased up a touch. I dared a glance at him and saw his gaze fixed on me, magazine in his lap forgotten. I couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes, but he didn’t seem quite so angry anymore.

  One small step forward. A tiny one, yes, but important nonetheless.

  Chapter Six

  Charlie dunked his head under the pool surface, then darted back up, shaking his head like a wet dog. Splatters of water smacked me in the face, and I grimaced.

  “Knock it off or I’m taking you home,” I warned him. The pool was already overcrowded, since it was hot but not unbearable outside. I was floating in the deep end, enjoying the crisp coolness of the water.

  This morning Mom had asked if I’d get Charlie out of the house. He and Maxine had been holed up in the basement for days, working on upgrading their solar-powered car. She wanted him to drop the mad-scientist gig and just be a kid for a while. So I’d agreed to take them both to the pool.

  It would also give me a bit of a reprieve from my anxiety about the art project . . . and my guilt over how I’d acted toward Matthew. I’d lain in bed last night, embarrassed about how rude I’d become. Just because I didn’t like the guy didn’t mean I had to be nasty.

  Though in truth, that wasn’t quite accurate. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I actually didn’t know anything about him except that we were really different. And if I were honest, part of my problem was that I was really uncomfortable.

  Matthew’s art challenged me. Made me squirm. It wasn’t lovely or careful or familiar. It wasn’t concerned with exacting perfection. It was wild and dark and edgy, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

  “Hey, Corinne,” Charlie said, interrupting my thoughts. He dropped his voice and floated over to me, then peeked over both shoulders. “I . . . need to talk to you about something weird that happened.” His face turned beet red.

  Intriguing. I raised an eyebrow and reached my hand over to grip the edge of the pool, kicking my feet in a lazy pattern to keep me afloat. Water splashed on my back when a kid jumped in the water, but the lifeguard’s whistle and shout stopped that.

  “What’s up?” I asked him.

  He cleared his throat, looking around again. “It’s about Maxine.”

  The subject of his dis
cussion was currently talking with a couple of other neighborhood girls near the shallow end of the pool. Her dark brown hair was plaited in a thick braid and she wore a one-piece swimsuit, her golden legs thrust out on the steps.

  “What about her?”

  His back stiffened. “She . . . When we were working on our car, she . . . touched my hand.”

  I smothered a laugh. I knew it. This had been brewing for a long time now. Charlie was finally becoming aware that Maxine liked him, and he was totally in over his head. “I’ve touched your hand before.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “That’s different. You’re my sister.”

  “But she’s your friend—has been forever. You two used to hold hands all the time when you were little. What makes you so worried about it now?”

  “I dunno.” He shrugged. “It just . . . felt different. She’s been acting weird, too. Asking me if I like any girls, or if I thought her hair looked pretty in that braid today.”

  Charlie’s lips were thinned, and he kept swallowing. Aw, the guy was so nervous. He could sense change happening in their relationship. I actually felt bad for him—once you crossed that line from friend to potential boyfriend/girlfriend, it wasn’t easy to go back.

  “Maxine is growing up,” I started in a gentle voice. “She’s looking at things differently, and that includes her relationship with you. Try to keep an open mind and think about it all.”

  “Do you think . . . she likes me?”

  It took everything in me not to say, Duh! Instead, I nodded. “I think she’s starting to go in that direction. But really, would it be that bad if she did? You guys are best friends. You know each other, and you get along well.” I could see the protest on his face and continued, “Before writing her off, just think about it. Don’t do anything rash right now—you’ll just push her away.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t seem convinced.

  I pushed off the wall and floated in the water. “Just try to think about how you feel.”

  “About what?” a light voice said from behind me. Maxine tilted her head and smiled widely.