Текст книги "Art & Soul"

Автор книги: Brittainy C. Cherry

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

While I continued to eat my mystery lunch and Aria comforted her distressed friend, I looked up to see the same girl I’d seen the day before at the hospital. Her face was paler than it had been, but she was moving as quick as ever with her tray in her hand.

“Hey, y’all? Who’s that girl?” I asked, nodding in her direction.

“You mean Awkward Abigail?” Simon said.

I arched an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Awkward Abigail. She’s the weirdest girl in this school,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “A total freak.”

I wondered if he knew how odd it was for him to be calling her a freak when half of the school called him the same thing. I held my hand up in Abigail’s direction and waved her over. “Hey, Abigail.”

“Holy crap, Levi! What are you doing?!” Simon hissed. “You can’t call her over here! That’s social suicide and my social status is already in jeopardy.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” I said, waving her over.

When she approached us with her tray in hands, she tapped her high heels rapidly against the floor. “What is it? Were you calling me? I thought you were calling me over.”

“I was,” I said. “I’m Levi. I just wanted to see if you wanted to eat lunch with me and my friends.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between Aria and Simon. “You want me to eat with you? They’ve never wanted me to eat with them before and I’ve known them since sixth grade.”

She was very forward, and I kind of liked that about her. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they changed their minds today, right, guys?” Aria and Simon remained silent. I nudged my foot against Aria’s under the table. “Right, guys?”

Aria raised an eyebrow at me, but nodded. “Right. Yeah, sit down, Awk—Abigail.”

Abigail’s eyes moved to the large clock in the cafeteria and then to her watch. “I only have three minutes to join you.”

“Three minutes sounds great,” I said. She placed her tray down beside me and the four of us sat in weird silence, just staring back and forth at one another.

“Did you Google it, Aria?” Abigail asked.

“Google what?” Aria replied.

“Marcus Aurelius. Remember? Remember I told you to Google him?”

“Oh…right…I haven’t found the time yet.”

“During the Renaissance, people were learning different languages, instruments, painting, building skills, and also fighting off deadly plagues. The fact that our generation now can hardly look up quotes is quite disheartening because we aren’t really doing much with our lives.” The three of us sat quietly, watching Abigail go on and on. She glanced at her watch. “I only have one minute left to sit with you guys.”

Well, hell. I liked her spunk.

“What’s a quote by Marcus?” I asked. Abigail’s face looked up at me, and she gave me a tiny smile.

“‘The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane,’” she quoted.

She stared into my eyes as if she were trying to say to me, “I know your secret.” I shifted around and gave her a tiny grin. “What made you quote that one?”

“Don’t know.” She pushed herself up from the table and picked up her tray. “Just did. Gotta go, time doesn’t wait for anyone, ya know.”

She started off, but before leaving, she turned toward Simon. “I like your sweater, Simon. Maroon makes your eyes pop.” Her cheeks blushed over and she was off, dashing to her next adventure.

“In the South, did you guys not believe in social suicide? Because seriously…you’re pushing us all into the land of misfit toys,” Simon argued, giving me a hard stare.

“I think she likes you,” I said to the panicked redhead.

He opened his mouth to holler my way, but he shut it fast. His thoughts seemed to be racing through his head, his facial expressions showing his confusion about what I’d said. With haste, he pushed himself up from the table. “I’m going to get lunch.”

Aria sat across from me, narrowing her eyes in my direction. “What’s your deal? What was that all about?”

I didn’t answer her, because I wasn’t exactly sure myself.

“Two words for you, dude. Social. Suicide.” Connor was lecturing me in the locker room as we changed for sixth hour gym class. “You can’t keep eating lunch with those freaks if we are ever going to get invited to the best parties.”

How did I end up having so many classes with this guy? I’d already been invited to the ‘best parties’, I just hadn’t found a reason to ever go. I’d rather sit at home and be ignored by the father who didn’t want me.

“I’m telling you, if we are going to get the kittens to meow our way, we need to avoid certain taboo things. That includes Awkward Abigail. She’s the worst thing a person could be seen with.”

“She’s not a thing, Connor. She’s a person,” I said, pulling my gym shirt over my head.

“I’m just saying, man. I get that it’s probably that Southern hospitality thing, but pull back a little.”

Simon walked into the locker room and opened his locker. He never really talked in gym class, but I could tell it was his least favorite thing, seeing as how half of the guys picked on him and he was always chosen last for teams.

Connor started talking some more bullshit in a sickening manner, but I was becoming pretty good at tuning him out. I would’ve been better off sitting in the front of Mr. Jones’ math class being spat on.

During class we played field hockey out on the soccer field. Mr. Jenson was the fattest gym teacher at Mayfair Heights, and he made sure to always belittle the students who weren’t the best at sports. Luckily I wasn’t too bad, but the way he spoke down to some of the others was disgusting. I wondered if he and Connor were related.

“Alabama,” Mr. Jenson called out to me. The nickname had stuck more than I’d wanted it to. “You’re captain. Jason, you’re captain, too.”

“Hell yeah!” Connor said, walking out toward my team as if I’d picked him.

“I pick Simon,” I said, making Connor freeze.

“What?” he and Simon said simultaneously.

“I said Simon. You’re up.”

Everyone around us started laughing as if I was kidding, but the small smile that appeared on Simon’s face when his name wasn’t called last was worth it, even if we did get our asses handed to us that day.

15 Aria

October came sweeping in with wet weather, cloudy skies, and a growing belly. I was fifteen weeks pregnant and starting to look the part, too.

For Sunday dinner, Mike invited James and Nadine in an attempt to avoid Dad storming off and rolling his eyes at me with disappointment. Mom made Grace’s favorite meal: chicken parmesan and green beans.

In the past whenever James and Nadine came over, Nadine would always end up in my room while the guys played video games. She and I would talk about my artwork and her dancing. Now it was extremely odd to have them both sitting a few inches away from me.

I did my best to not look across the table at James, but I could feel his stare on me.

This is so awkward.

Why would he think it was okay to show up to my family’s house for dinner? Why did he think it was okay to bring his girlfriend with him? Why did I feel more alone than ever before whenever he held her hand?

“So, I got into Duke,” James said, passing around the bowl of garlic bread. “I’m officially going to be a Blue Devil come next fall.”

Dad beamed like it was his own son’s success. “No way. Full ride?”

James nodded. He’d be playing football at Duke, and I was sure Nadine was already worrying about the long distance relationship, seeing as how she was going to a community college about an hour away from Mayfair Heights. Even so, she smiled as if she was as proud as Dad.

Even if James hadn’t gotten a football scholarship, I was positive he would’ve received one for some other reason. He was the top of his class, landing the spot as class valedictorian. He and Mike were pretty evenly matched when it came to playing football—Mike may have been better than James, actually, but when it came to book smarts, they were nowhere close to being on the same field.

It wasn’t that Mike was stupid. He just didn’t really try. Truth was he never had to try. People loved him easily. The girls always wanted to date him while the guys wanted a solid bromance. Teachers let him slide by with ‘good enough’ grades so he wouldn’t be kicked off of the football team. He was never put into a position where he had to put forth much effort. That was until his ACT scores weren’t that great, which didn’t pair well with his subpar report cards, making it harder for the scholarships to roll in for him. I could tell that my parents were growing wary of Mike not being offered a full ride like they thought he would’ve been.

They were holding their breath waiting for a letter to come stating that he’d at least been accepted into a college.

“Well, I think that’s wonderful, James. You worked hard for it. You deserve all the success coming your way,” Mom said.

James smiled and thanked her. “Hopefully this dope will be joining me out there,” he said, shoving Mike in the shoulder. Every now and then I could feel James’ stare falling over to me, but I hardly reacted.

“At this point, we’ll take anything,” Dad huffed. I watched Mike’s mouth tighten with annoyance. I wondered if Dad knew how harsh he’d been lately.

“Ah, the letters will be arriving soon, I’m sure of it. Mike’s the smartest person I know, besides Miss Beautiful over here.” James leaned toward Nadine and kissed her cheek. He stared at her as if no one else in the world existed, even though I was positive that we all did. I wondered what it felt like to be looked at as if I were the only thing that mattered.

After dinner, Nadine stopped in my room while the guys played some video games. She sat on my bed, flipping through my sketchbooks and telling me how talented I was. I wished she knew how much she shouldn’t have liked me.

“I heard some of the things people have been saying about you at school. They’re jerks,” she said, placing the books down onto my mattress. “For the record, I think it’s brave what you’re doing, having the baby.”

“Each day at school as I’m being called a whore and slut, I rethink the decision.”

“Don’t. It’s brave.” Her stare faltered to the ground. “James and I went through the same thing, but I had a miscarriage.” My eyes widened as I listened to her talk. “He didn’t want me to have the kid, anyway. He said he had plans for his future, as if I didn’t have plans, too. After the miscarriage he cried, though. I still don’t know if they were happy tears or sad.”

“I had no clue.”

She shook her head. “No one did. It was over the summer when we took a break. But if I’d had a chance, I would’ve kept it, too. So screw everyone at school with their small-minded thoughts. Hold your head up high, and keep going. Even on the bad days, just remember why you’re doing it.”

“Thanks, Nadine.” Gah. She really, really shouldn’t have liked me.

She smiled and left the room.

James popped into my room next, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he said. His hands were stuffed in his jeans pockets as he swayed back and forth. “Sorry about showing up tonight, but Mike kept begging Nadine and me to come over. I didn’t want things to seem weird, so I thought I should come.”

“It was weird. It is weird.”

He sighed. “We should talk.”

“About?”

“Your brother said you were keeping the baby. Is that true?” he asked sheepishly.

My jaw tightened, and I dug the palms of my hands into the side of my mattress. “You told me you two broke up because she was treating you terribly. You said you two were going different ways in life.”

“We were…” His head hung low like a puppy caught destroying a cushion.

“You left out the fact that she was pregnant.”

“Aria—”

“You came into my room and you told me how Nadine treated you like garbage. You built her up to be this monster. You said you always liked me. You ran your hands through my hair calling it beautiful. You called me cute and touched me, kissing my neck, my stomach. Then tonight I find out that your girlfriend never treated you like crap. She loved you. She loves you.”

“I was in a bad place that night,” he whispered, still not looking at me.

“You told me how you cared about me. Was that all crap just to sleep with me?”

“No. Of course I care about you, Aria. You’re my best friend’s kid sister.” Kid sister. Ouch. “That night Mike and I’d been drinking. I’m not proud of it or anything and I never meant to hurt you.”

Hurt me? “James you screwed me and got me knocked up. Then for weeks you pretended like you never slept with me, and got back together with Nadine—you know, the other girl you screwed and got knocked up. You honestly have the most determined sperm in the history of sperm.”

He didn’t reply. I hated that he blamed it on alcohol. I hated that the reason he really broke things off with Nadine was because she wanted to keep the baby. I hated that he was able to walk around school with no one knowing the truth of what we did.

It wasn’t fair.

“What’s the deal with you and Levi Myers?” he asked out of nowhere. “Are you two a thing or something?”

A thing?

Me and Levi?

I didn’t reply, because what right did he have to ask me that question?

James and I were in completely different situations, even though we equally played a part in the pregnancy. No one was vandalizing his locker at school. No one was calling him a whore. He was pretty much known as a god at Mayfair Heights.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “There’s something about the guy that I don’t like. You shouldn’t hang out with him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I chuckled.

That’s funny.

“You can leave now, James. And congratulations on the free ride to Duke. You’re going to make a fantastic blue devil.”

On Monday, Levi and I spent the whole eighth period arguing over what our final project should be. It took everything in my power to not think about Sunday dinner and how James felt the need to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with. But Levi made that easier. He made it easier not to care anything about James. At least for a few hours he helped me forget.

“You should really check out those books at the library that I told you about,” I said, walking out of the classroom at the final bell.

“Okay. Want to go now?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve already seen the books, and I understand the importance of abstract art and how it’s life-changing. I need you to realize it so I can start plotting out what three pieces I want to create for the final. Then you can start creating some kind of music piece to go with it.”

“So, we’ll meet at the library in about an hour?” he asked.

“Levi,” I sighed. “You’re doing that thing where you annoy me again.” Not really. I like it. “But if you really need me there to walk you through it, I guess that’s fine.”

“Okay. So we’ll meet in an hour or so at the library. It’s a date.”

“It’s a meeting,” I corrected.

“It’s a date-meeting.”

“It’s a meeting,” I said once more.

“It’s a meeting of dates,” he echoed, walking off.

I bit my bottom lip and tried to slow down my quickening heartbeat. It’s a date.

On the bus ride home I sat next to Simon, who was still in a terrible mood. He had been for weeks now ever since he spilled the juice. I knew there was more to his story than he was telling me as he stared out of the window.

“You can talk to me, you know,” I said. He frowned, not saying anything. There were things in the world that really sucked, and watching your best friend be sad had to be one of the worst. “Simon.”

“It didn’t work,” he said, still staring out of the window. His fingers tapped against his jeans over and over again. “Mom said they were going to stop trying.”

I knew he was talking about his parents trying to get pregnant. They’d had trouble for the past years, and Simon always blamed himself due to a past accident he and his mom were in. My hands fell to my stomach, and I stared at Simon, unsure of what to say. “I’m so sorry, Si.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s just sucks, that’s all. They get one kid and he turns out to be a freak. They deserve better and it’s my fault that they can’t get another kid.”

“That’s not true. None of it is your fault.”

He didn’t say anything else, but I knew his mind was blaming himself more and more each day.

It wasn’t fair the way life picked and chose who received what they wanted and who didn’t.

After going home and falling asleep for almost two hours, I woke up startled and late. Tossing on flip-flops, I headed for the library. Levi was sitting at the top step of the library. His hands flew up when he saw me, and he gave me the biggest grin. “You know how lame it makes a guy feel to be sittin’ on the steps of a library waitin’ for a girl who might not show? And then she shows up forty-five minutes late?”

I gave him a tight smile. “Sorry.”

He lowered his brows. “Are you okay?”

No.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Simon. And one thing I learned about being pregnant was sometimes you felt like crying because the sun was shining, or because the pizza delivery guy forgot the cheesy bread. Other times you felt like crying because Simba was so sad during The Lion King and you just wanted to hug the little lion cub. My emotions were all over the place, and I didn’t know how to find the off switch.

“Yeah, let’s dive into some books,” I said, giving him a small smile.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Levi…”

“‘Remember this, that very little is needed to make a happy life.’ Marcus Aurelius said that.”

“You Google searched Marcus Aurelius?” I asked, pulling on the bottom of my shirt.

“Yeah, on my cell phone while I waited for you. I figured if people during the Renaissance could play instruments and fight the black plague, I could perform a Google search.”

“I see. Anyway, let’s get inside and get this over with.”

“Aria, do you need a hug?”

“No, Levi. I don’t need a hug.” Mostly because a hug from him would’ve made me cry. He closed his eyes tight and placed his fingers on his temples. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t you feel it? I’m pulling you closer to me for a hug with my Jedi mind skills.”

“Well, it’s not working,” I said. I hadn’t been touched by a boy since James over the summer, and I liked it that way. After everything that happened, I’d learned that I liked my space. Of course, no one noticed that fact, because no guy ever tried to touch me. Until oxymoron Levi came to town. “No offense, but I don’t really like to be touched.”

“Oh,” he said, dropping his hands and frowning. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

He walked up the steps of the library and held the door open for me. “Trust me. That’s personal.”

16 Levi

I wanted to know more about Aria, the girl who hardly smiled, the girl whose eyes remained sad when she did smile. She wasn’t really one to open up to people. I couldn’t blame her, really, seeing how everyone treated her at school. I wouldn’t have opened up either.

“Okay, tell me what I’m staring at,” I whispered, edging my chair closer to her, but still giving her enough space to feel comfortable.

“I can’t tell you. You have to figure it out for yourself. That’s the whole point of abstract art, it’s different for everyone.”

I nodded, staring back at the blues, yellows, and greens in front of me. To be honest, it looked messy to me, as if a two-year-old had broken into a room filled with paint and poured it all over the place.

But maybe that was artwork to some people.

I just couldn’t see it.

“How long do we stare at it?” I asked.

“As long as it takes for you to see it,” she replied.

“What’s ‘it’?”

“Everything.”

My eyes started seeing doubles of the painting as I went cross-eyed from the overall experience of intense staring. “Okay, well, your turn,” I said, pushing the book in her direction. “You tell me what you see.”

She took a breath of relief as if she’d been waiting for me to ask. The hair tie on her wrist was removed as she tossed her hair into a ponytail. She loosened and stretched out before crossing her legs on the chair and flipping the pages in the book.

She was searching and searching.

Searching for something familiar.

Something that she normally only allowed herself to see.

When she found it, she smiled. Not one of her halfway grins, but a full-blown, toothy, this-is-my-safe-haven kind of grin.

The painting was entitled Grounded Fly and Aria stared as if she was a part of it. Her body slightly rocked back and forth and her lips parted. I stared at her lips far longer than I should’ve, but the way they fell open was almost enough for me to want to press my mouth against hers. I forced my gaze to move elsewhere, and when it found her eyes, I completely forgot about the idea of blinking.

I’d never seen her eyes smile before; they were always so heavy and lost. In that moment, as she became a part of the abstract painting, she freed herself from reality, almost forgetting that I existed. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to. I saw what she was seeing as I watched her. The way her body lit with color for the first time since we’d met was indescribable. Part of me wanted to ask her how she tapped into the art, but I worried if any noise was made then she might snap back to reality and her eyes would be sad again.

Mom used to tell me that happiness didn’t last, so a person should hold onto it as long as possible, without questions, without regrets.

We sat there for minutes that felt like hours of peace. Her eyes kept looking down while mine took her in. She was so beautiful. I wouldn’t say the words, because every time I’d given her a compliment, she flinched with discomfort.

But I thought it often. So freaking beautiful.

“Do you see it?” she whispered, her fingertips tapping against her mouth.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. I saw it.

“Aria?”

“Yes?”

“Can I show you something now?”

I took her to Lance’s music shop, where we were greeted by Daisy as she passed out vegan cookies to the customers. “Hey, Levi! Who’s the friend?”

“This is Aria. She’s my partner for our art and music class,” I said, smiling at Aria. She smiled back. Whenever she smiled, I felt like I was winning at life.

“I’m guessing you’re the art part of the project?” she asked Aria.

“Yes, and he’s the soul.”

“I’m Daisy, honey,” she said, extending her hand out to Aria. “Lance, come say hi to Levi’s school partner, Art.”

Lance leaped over the cash register counter and hurried behind his wife, then wrapped his hands around her waist. “Is your name really Art?” he asked.

“No, but close enough.” Aria laughed.

I like that sound, too.

Lance smiled before his eyes fell to Aria’s stomach. When his eyes locked with mine again he smiled bigger. Turning his back toward Aria, he spoke just loud enough for only me to hear. “Not to dive into the uncool uncle role for too long, but I gotta make sure—Levi, the bun in that oven isn’t a Myers croissant, is it?”

I laughed. “No.”

Lance sighed. “Okay, back to the cool uncle role.” He flipped back around and gave Aria a high five. “Art, nice to meet you. You’re free to touch anything in the store and play anything you want. Anything you break, that fine nephew of mine buys.”

“So break everything?” Aria questioned.

“Oh, I like her spunk,” Lance said, nudging me in the side. “Balls to the wall, my friend. Since you have that badass rocker chick look and are wearing a T-shirt with a badass kitten on it, might I suggest you start with the crazy new, crazy expensive Pearl Crystal Beat 5-piece shell drum set in the display window? Levi tried to play it once, but he sounded like complete shit, and I’m almost positive you can do better.” He handed a pair of drumsticks Aria’s way and told her to have at it.

So she did.

She played like every badass rock star in the movies. She pounded the drums, over and over again, whipping her hair back and forth, losing herself in the whole act of letting loose.

“Whoa,” Lance said, staring at Aria in awe when she stopped. He started a slow clap with Daisy and me joining in. “That was fucking awful. It’s almost as if you walked up to the drums and said, ‘I am going to take these sticks and proceed to kill the fucking joy of music.’ No, seriously, are my ears bleeding? Because I think my ears are bleeding,” he joked.

I couldn’t stop laughing because he was right—it was pretty painful. Aria fell into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, since I’m terrible at the drums, do you think you can play the violin for me?” she asked, gesturing to the violin on display. It wasn’t any violin, but it was the violin that I kind of wanted to marry. A Karl Willhelm Model 64—the best violin in Soulful Things.

“I can’t play that,” I replied. People didn’t just pick up a Karl Willhelm violin and start playing. Especially a violin with a three thousand dollar price tag.

“Why not?” Lance asked, picking it up from the display. He handed it to me. “I think you and this violin might have a lot in common.”

I took the wooden instrument into my hands and smiled at it. Lance handed me the bow, and after a few minutes of tuning, I placed my chin on the chinrest. “Any requests?” I asked Aria.

She smiled. “Surprise me.”

I slid the bow across the strings of the violin, playing Henryk Wieniawksi’s classic, “Polonaise No. 1.” It was one of the hardest pieces of music I’d ever learned to play. Part of me was terrified of messing up and looking like an idiot. Another part of me wanted to impress Aria.

When I finished, the three started applauding and Aria mouthed, “Wow.”

Before we left she somehow managed to also murder the beauty of the piano, guitar, and a few tambourines.

I walked her home and stood at the end of her sidewalk. She kept fidgeting with her fingers and smiling.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today.” I smirked. She didn’t know it, but she gave me a few hours of not thinking about my least favorite word: cancer.

Her cheeks reddened and she kept fidgeting. “I’ll see you at school?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She smiled and turned away. Then she turned back, and smiled again. “You’re amazing at the violin. I hope you know that.” She turned away and walked up the porch steps. She turned back to look at me. “Like, really, really amazing.” Another smile. Keep smiling. She turned away once more. As she stepped into her house, I started to walk away and heard her shouting my name. “Levi.”

“Yes?”

More fidgeting. More smiles. “Do you think we can be friends?”

I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I thought we already were.”

I stepped into my bedroom right as my phone dinged. Glancing down at the cell phone, I saw Aria’s name, and I instantly rushed to read the message.

Aria: Glitterati – noun plural | [glit·te·ra·ti ˌgli-tə-ˈrä-tē] : Wealthy or famous people who conspicuously attend fashionable events.

Me: Sounds sparkly.

Aria: I bet they have wonderful punch that they pour into diamond encrusted glasses.

I reached for my dictionary and started flipping through it.

Me: Art – noun | [ˈärt] : The quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.

Aria: I like that.

Me: I think you’re art.

She didn’t respond. I went and worked on some homework, pretended that I understood calculus, and checked my phone. I spoke to Mom on the phone. After I hung up, I checked my phone. I cooked a nasty TV dinner, ate it all, and checked my phone. I sat in the foyer laughing at black and white comedies, and checked my phone.

I checked it one last time before I shut off my light and climbed into bed.

As I lay in the dark, I listened to the phone ding as the blue light lit up my room.

Aria: Goodnight, Levi.

I smiled in the darkness.

Goodnight, Art.