Ugly, page 4
“I know you want to go to art school, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” I was halfway to the door.
“It’s good to have both breadth and depth in your portfolio. So if you make this year the one you produce work in a variety of media, you can work on the depth in your junior and senior years.”
Now I was in the doorway but I stopped. “Okay. That makes sense. I, uh, have to go catch my bus.”
“Oh, go ahead, honey! I didn’t mean to keep you. Off you go.” She smiled and teasingly waved me off.
I rushed down the stairs and through the outer door into the gravel lot. I raced back toward the oval and turned the corner on the bottom of the U. I couldn’t move very fast because I never ran—the way I looked was just too humiliating—plus I needed to keep the blue hand safe.
Then the first bus pulled away. Mine was the fourth in line. It would be hard to make it if I didn’t hurry, so I started speed walking.
Then the second bus went, and I started jogging. A bead of sweat rolled into my eye, and then I was behind the fifth bus when the third one pulled away.
Shit, shit, shit. I broke into a run to try to catch mine, but it left just as I passed its brake lights, leaving me in the wake of a few taunting faces from the back windows of the bus and some tasty bus exhaust. Jeremy from up the street who’d spit on me once threw his head back in laughter, and one girl whose name I didn’t know twirled her finger around her ear in the universal sign for “you’re crazy.”
I stopped running, blushing with embarrassment at what an idiot I looked like chasing a bus. Of course I’d missed it.
I flopped onto a green metal bench in front of the building, which was long and made of tan brick with a tacky greenish overhang protruding from the top. Though at the moment it blocked the sun, so that was nice.
As my breathing slowed, I realized it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d just call Mom.
“Hi, honey, is everything okay?”
“I missed the bus.”
“Oh, Nic. I don’t have time to come get you. I’ve got to be at work in twenty minutes.”
Shit. She had an early shift. She worked at the City Flame Grill, one of those sit-down chains. Her having a job was a new thing, and I wasn’t used to her schedule yet. I didn’t say anything.
“You’ll have to call Dad, but you know he won’t be able to come until after work.” That meant at least six. Which left me with over three hours to kill. I probably could walk home, but I really didn’t know how long it would take me.
“Crap.”
“I’m really sorry, honey. Why’d you miss the bus?”
“I went to pick up my giant blue hand.”
“Oh, great. I’m excited to see it in person.” My mom liked my art so I always showed her pictures of the in-progress projects. “What are you going to do until Dad can come?”
“I don’t know.” I pictured the bus ride into town. “There’s a coffee shop downtown.”
“You have some cash?” Her voice sounded strained, like it did whenever she mentioned money.
“Yeah, a few bucks.”
Something was going on with my parents, with our pantry full of a lot more off-brand labels than we were used to. I guess that was why she’d started the restaurant job.
“I’ve got to go, Nic. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll probably be home by seven thirty or so, assuming we’re as dead as normal for Tuesdays.”
“Right. See you tonight.”
“I love you, honey.”
“’Kay.” I hung up and called Dad.
He could come at 6:30, so I headed downtown. It wasn’t far, just a few blocks along streets that lacked curbs, which was different from my neighborhood. We may not have had sidewalks, but we had curbs, at least. I lived in the north side of town, which was generally the upper middle-class part.
I wiped away sweat and turned onto Main Street. It was only a few shops down.
When I pushed the door open, the cold air immediately cooled my damp skin. It felt sort of glorious, such a relief.
There were tables lining the wall on the left all the way to the back of the narrow shop. Thank God the last table was empty. The other tables were swarming with kids from school, all of whom I didn’t know.
Then I heard a laugh I’d have known anywhere and turned to the one table that was in the front window, to my right.
Zach. I stared for a moment at his face as his eyes crinkled with laughter. He drove Sam and me—and his friend Evan—to Key Club, this service club, every month. And he was the one I’d actually had a proper crush on since last year. He was blond and also tall, even if he was a little on the chubby side. Not that that took away from his cuteness. And I swear, he always looked at me in the rearview mirror when we were in the car. I’d been hoping he liked me back. Seeing him got my hope machine going again.
He was with some other junior guys so there was no way I’d approach his table. Before I could get to the counter, he saw me and smiled again and waved. My heart beat a little faster. It was his smile and the way his blue eyes sparkled that I really loved.
I wouldn’t say he looked ecstatic to see me or anything, but he wasn’t embarrassed to acknowledge me, which was a big step in my social world. He could like me. At least he could be a friend, maybe something more.
I returned the wave and was unable to prevent a stupid grin from stretching my mouth way too much, so I stared at the menu instead of him. I wanted an iced vanilla latte, but it was too expensive.
“What can I get you, man?” the barista asked.
Great. He thought I was a guy. I looked away and felt my cheeks heat slightly.
I swallowed and then ordered an iced passion tea and had it sweetened to make it palatable. Whenever I saw health nuts drinking tea without sugar, I was just like, No.
I set the ceramic hand down on the table and settled in. I pulled out my math homework, which made me think of Carlos and Kyle. Why did Kyle have to be such a jerk about it? Why was it so horrible that I sort of indirectly expressed interest in Carlos? Maybe I’d really only wanted my eraser back.
No, I mean, I got it. Being liked by me was an insult to a boy. That had been clear since a particular incident in middle school.
Anyways.
I worked on my homework. I actually liked math. It was very logical, and there were usually multiple ways of getting to the right solution, which reminded me of art, even though the final product in art was always unique. It was the impact that the art had that was either right or wrong—it moved someone or it didn’t.
I worked for a while. Where I was sitting, I couldn’t see Zach. Though to be fair, I could hear him, on and off. Which was distracting. I strained to hear what he was saying, and I couldn’t quite make anything intelligible out. I had to keep forcing myself to get back to my homework.
While I evaluated a polynomial expression, I heard a door squeak open behind me, and a guy snorted and said, “Hey, can you lend me a hand?”
I looked up and saw Logan, the son of two of my parents’ friends. I seriously couldn’t stand the guy. I couldn’t stand his dad, either.
So of course I’d run into Logan in a coffee shop because he was a total coffee snob. He was also a short guy and had on a pale yellow polo shirt and khaki shorts. His smirk made my stomach go queasy. It took me a second of staring at him before I realized what he was talking about. The blue hand.
And while what he’d said might sound innocent or even friendly, I knew him well enough to know it wasn’t. So of course—and I fucking hated this—I blushed, and he laughed and sauntered away.
God, I despised Logan. Still, that was a fairly tame interaction. Usually he said something shittier.
I put my head in my shaking hands. Eventually, my heart slowed a little.
Then I looked up to see Zach approaching with purpose. My pulse sped right back up.
He slid into the booth across from me with a smile and said, “Hey, Nic. What’s up?”
“Not much.” I didn’t know what to say. “I missed the bus.”
“Ah. Yeah, I’ve never seen you here.”
“No.” It was amazing I even got that out, I was so flustered by him.
“You missed the bus?”
“Yeah.” Idiot. Say something. If only I could think over the racket the butterflies in my stomach had raised.
“Do you need a ride home?” He flashed me that smile. “I know where you live.”
I laughed, hoping he didn’t notice the nerves laced though it. “Sure.”
“Ready?”
“Oh, sure.” I started cramming everything into my backpack. I’d just need to send Dad a text.
“Did you make this?” he asked, stretching his hand across the palm of the giant blue hand. I liked the idea of his fingers on the sculpture of my own hand.
“Yeah.” His fingers were a lot longer than mine and they filled more of the piece than my own did. His hands were probably strong.
“It’s awesome.”
I blushed again. I loved that he noticed it and didn’t make fun of it.
He had to like me. At least a little. Right?
Please let it be true.
I zipped up my bag and we left.
Zach drove a new Honda Accord, but it was black, so it was baking when we got in.
“So hot,” he muttered as he rolled down the windows and cranked up the AC.
I couldn’t believe I was here with him. Alone.
We backed out and he did a U-turn. As soon as all the hottest air was sucked out of the car, he rolled the windows back up, and the air from the AC blowing on my face felt great.
I sat with the ceramic hand in my lap. He glanced over and smiled again.
“So cool. Was that inspired by the praying hands in Tulsa?”
“Jesus, no!”
He snorted, and his infectious laugh filled the car. The praying hands he’d referred to made up the giant bronze statue that adorned the entrance of Oral Roberts University in south Tulsa. We’d lived nearby when I was a lot younger. You’d never be able to imagine what they were like until you’d seen them. They were sixty feet high and, well, insane.
“Not half a pair? You could display them side by side like they’re requesting alms.” He chuckled.
He was teasing me, but not in a mean way. Wasn’t that flirting?
Not that I was qualified to judge. Clearly.
“No chance,” I said.
He was still laughing while we left downtown.
Halfway to my house I realized I wasn’t that nervous anymore. It had to be a good sign that he put me at ease, didn’t it?
“Key Club’s tomorrow,” he said.
“Yeah.” Was he looking forward to it? Another chance to see me?
“Are you doing the car wash next weekend?”
“No.” Girls did that mostly so they could wear skimpy clothes and get all wet and look good. Obviously that wouldn’t work with me, so no.
“Me neither. Who wants to spend hours outside?”
See, we felt the same about the weather. We had even more in common than I thought. I was talking to Zach without losing my words. This made my heart pinch. “Not me. The sun’s fine as long as it’s on the other side of a window, as far as I’m concerned.”
He chuckled.
We chatted some more until he pulled into my driveway. He put the car in park and said, “So I’ll see you tomorrow at six thirty?”
The Key Club meeting. I nodded and got out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem. See you.”
I headed to the front door, wondering if I should have stood there and waved at him or something. To let him know I was interested.
Well, there was always Wednesday. Maybe I’d get a chance then.
Chapter 10
After eating a Lean Cuisine cheese ravioli, I tossed the plastic tray into the trash and dropped the fork in the dishwasher.
Back to my drawing, which I’d been prepping since I got home. I was set up in the dining room because I was working on a poster-sized piece of thick white paper. It was almost as big as the desk in my room, so there’d be no way to do it in there. I was lucky my mom encouraged my drawing.
I’d done a super-light sketch of the whole drawing to get the scale right. It would be so awesome. It would be my best piece for the contest. And I needed to do well in the contest this year and next year if I was to have any chance of getting into a good art school.
I looked at the paper, trying to decide where to start when my dad came in from the den. He was still in his nice work pants. His curly hair was getting long.
“Nic?”
“Yeah?” I was thinking I’d start with one of the snow-covered shrubs since it was roughly centered. I could work out from there so I didn’t end up squishing one of the dragons off the page if my scale was off.
He stood next to me. “When your mom gets home, we’re going to have a family meeting.”
“What?” I turned to look at him and saw a barely perceptible frown on his face, which was weird. Also, we had literally never had a family meeting before. This made my shoulders tense a little.
“She shouldn’t be too much longer.” He rubbed his beard, one of his nervousness tells.
I checked my phone and saw that it was already after seven. I was too weirded out to ask anything else. Something was going on. Were we moving? It would be hilarious if we ended up moving to Scotland, too. And awesome.
I mean, I knew that wasn’t it, but it was a nice thought. Better than the thought of Sam leaving and me staying.
“More dragons?” he asked.
I looked at the paper. “Yeah, this one’s a battle scene.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” He went into the kitchen for a beer.
My dad didn’t get art, but he tried with me. I mean, what could you expect from an accountant?
I focused on envisioning the final drawing in order to get Sam’s move out of my mind—plus the family meeting that was making me increasingly tense.
I googled shrubbery to get a good idea of what mine should look like and started putting it to paper.
Before I got anywhere, Izzy came in and sat in the chair next to me. “Nic?”
“Yeah?” I looked at her. She had on her jeans with the crystal rhinestones that lined the pockets and hems, with a pink shirt with a unicorn on it. Most of her clothes were pink.
“What do you think the meeting is about?” she whispered. “Are you scared?”
“No, I’m not scared. It should be okay, Izzy.”
“Isabella,” she said.
“Isabella.” She was on this kick where she hated her nickname, even though that’s what we’d called her her whole life.
“Do you think we’re moving?”
I shook my head. “I doubt it.”
“What could it be?”
I pulled Izzy into a side hug.
“I have no idea.” I didn’t, but I wondered, too.
Chapter 11
Caleb and I sat at opposite corners of the pale pink couch in our den with Izzy in the middle, all of us waiting to find out what was going on. Mom paced in front of the armoire and Dad sat in the old wingback chair next to it, tapping the fingers of one hand on his leg while rubbing his beard with his other.
I glanced between each of my parents. Mom was still wearing her City Flame shirt—red and yellow—and her black pants, but fortunately had taken off her apron. She had something on the side of her shirt and I was curious to know what it was. Cheese?
Dad had his official lounge wear on: gray sweats and a t-shirt with holes and stains all over it. He picked up his beer from the table. Liquid courage, perhaps.
“What?” Caleb said in that surly way boys have patented. I’m sure he had a video game to get back to.
“Caleb,” Dad said. “Lose the attitude.”
Whoa. Dad disciplining? Or close to it? Never happened. I frowned. I glanced over at Caleb just as he snorted, obviously surprised, too. He tapped the arm of the couch, which had one of those arm covers that was askew and about to fall off.
There was silence until the fridge made this moaning sound we’d gotten used to, though it suddenly seemed very loud.
I was so focused on the sound that it surprised me when Mom said, “Why don’t you start, Mark?”
He turned to her, also surprised. Mom was the one who ran everything. Dad kind of floated along, bringing some money home and changing a light bulb or two, since he was tall enough to reach without a step stool. Not that he was a bad guy, just kind of passive.
He cleared his throat. The three of us stared while Mom looked toward the kitchen. Izzy leaned against me.
“We are having some serious financial problems, and there are going to have to be some changes.” He stopped, stared at the ceiling, and tugged at his beard.
What kind of changes would there be?
Dad started, “Izzy—”
“Isabella!” Izzy said. “That’s my name.”
Dad’s eyes widened. “Okay, sorry. Isabella, we have to stop your dance lessons, and Caleb, we will have to stop your tennis lessons.”
Caleb jerked his head back. “What? No!”
“Mom!” Izzy said at the same time. Mom frowned at her, eyes worried.
My stomach roiled from nerves. I needed to know what it was for me.
Dad continued, hand still on his beard, “There’s no other way. And Nic, you won’t be getting a car for your birthday.”
No! Sam and I were counting on that. Or not Sam, now. A wave of sadness about her moving washed over me and I wanted to cry. No car and no friends.
“At least there’s that,” Caleb muttered.
Dad glared at him. “And neither will you.”
“Oh,” Caleb said.
I glared at him, too, just because he was such a jerk now.
We were all silent until my mom said in a thick voice, “The allowances, Mark.”
Oh, no.
“Izzy, you’ll get ten dollars every two weeks.”
“That’s not enough!”
“We don’t have a choice, honey,” Mom said. “I’m sorry.”
“But now I can’t have my craft of the month!” She teared up. She spent her allowance on one of those clubs that sent her a box of craft stuff every month. She always needed my help to complete the projects. It wasn’t my thing, but we had fun anyway.
