Chapter Three
Evie
“What was that?” Hannah asks as the three of us head to the cafeteria.
I can smell the barbecue chicken from all the way here.
Mmm. School lunch used to suck, but Easton and Dani Knight, the richest family in our small town of Edenbury, Georgia, who practically own the school, have finally gotten the school to prepare us decent food.
I shrug. “Just Noah being Noah.”
“How did you tick him off this time?” Penny asks with a chuckle as we step in line with our trays. “You always find new ways to make his life interesting.”
“You mean torture him,” Hannah corrects.
I shrug again. “So I made him come late to school. Big deal. He acts as though I made him witness a murder.”
“Lost in your own world while painting again?” Hannah playfully nudges my arm.
I hold up my hands helplessly. “You know my creativity takes over every part of me when I paint. Can’t help it if I’m an artistic genius,” I joke. Because I’m nowhere close to an artistic genius. I’m just average.
“Too bad you and Noah aren’t going to the same college,” Penny says with another laugh. “Can you imagine torturing him for another four years?”
“We’ll be on opposite sides of the country, thankfully,” I say as the lunch lady places a plate with delicious-looking barbecue chicken on my tray.
“I won’t have to see his annoying face ever again.
” Which isn’t entirely true because in addition to our parents being best friends, we share an aunt, uncle, and two adorable cousins.
My uncle, Zane—Dad’s younger brother—married Noah’s aunt, Bailey, and they have ten-year-old Zoey and eight-year-old Brock.
“Noah is cute, though,” Hannah says, eyes trekking to where he and his friends stand at the back of the line. “One of the best-looking guys at Edenbury High.”
My jaw falls open. “Are you serious?”
She gives me a look. “Even you have to admit he’s hot.”
“I’m an artist and I know when someone has a good face. Noah Barrington? Not a good face.”
She and Penny exchange a look like I’m lying through my butt.
Fine, I can admit to myself that the dude does have a good face, a perfect one for a portrait.
When he’s not being an annoying neat freak, his eyes seem to hold a lot of emotion.
Hidden emotion. Like, layers of it. But I won’t admit that to anyone out loud.
Once we pay for our food, we head to our table.
My friends and I aren’t popular or anything, unlike a certain Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt who sits with the football players and other jocks next to the popular table, but we aren’t invisible, either.
I guess we’re just normal. My sister, brother, and their friends sit at a table all the way in the back corner of the cafeteria, which is practically invisible.
I don’t think they mind it, though. They just like being with each other and doing their own thing, just like my friends and me.
“So.” Hannah cuts a slice of chicken and brings it to her mouth. “Anyone plan to score a guy?”
“There are only two months left to school,” I say. “What’s the point?”
“The point is that Penny and I haven’t had boyfriends in months, and you’ve never had a boyfriend, Evie. You’re not missing testosterone in your life?”
“Nope.” I bite into my chicken. “I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. I need to focus on my art. Besides, what’s the point of getting involved with someone when we’ll all go our separate ways after the summer?”
“I didn’t mean anything serious,” Hannah explains. “Just a quick fling before the real relationships happen.”
“Real relationships?” I ask.
“She means college guys,” Penny tells me. “Real men.”
I lift my shoulders. “Some of the guys here are decent. My sister’s boyfriend is amazing to her, and my brother is one of the sweetest guys here. But even if there was someone dateable here, like I said—no point.”
“But life will be so boring the next few months,” Hannah complains as she gulps down some water. “Don’t you want some fun before we have to be real adults and live in the real world?”
“Nope.” I bite into another piece of chicken. “I need to focus on my art.”
“You need a guy,” Penny corrects.
“I need my art,” I repeat.
“A guy,” Hannah agrees with a giggle.
Knowing this conversation will go in circles, I focus on my food and try to block out their boy talk.
I’ve never been into relationships like my friends.
I’ve always been focused on my art. There’s time for guys later, if I even want a guy.
Maybe when I’m like thirty or something.
Right now, I’m content with my life and don’t feel like anything is lacking.
The bell rings, signaling lunch is over, and my friends and I throw out our garbage.
As we make our way to our lockers, I pass by the famous portrait hanging on the wall.
Okay, it’s not really famous—I don’t think many students at school even look at it—but it’s my pride and joy, which makes it famous in my eyes.
It’s a portrait of Principal Nakamura. It was our senior gift to her, which I offered to paint.
I still think her nose is a little too big, but my friends and family have assured me countless times that it’s perfect.
“Admiring your masterpiece?” Penny teases.
“I still think her nose—”
“Oh my gosh, no.” Hannah puts her arm around me and leads me away from it. “It’s perfect just the way it is. You obsess way too much over your art.”
“Do not. I just want it to be perfect.”
“But it’s the imperfections that make things in life beautiful, isn’t it?”
Penny raises a brow at her. “Since when have you gotten so wise?”
I roll my eyes. “Since she got into an Ivy League school. And yeah, of course you’re right, Hannah. Imperfections do make things beautiful. But I still think her nose is too big.”
They shake their heads and laugh at me as we separate to our classes.
***
It’s worth celebrating that I don’t have to drive Noah home from school. He’s just so…insufferable—a word Mom and Lily love to use. Those two read way too many Regency romances.
It’s sort of funny that Mr. Perfect has detention.
Okay, it’s totally funny. I laugh to myself in my car for five minutes straight just imagining the look on his face as he suffers through detention.
I don’t mean to be a jerk about it, but for heaven’s sake, what kid doesn’t have detention at least once in their life?
Boring neat freaks with humongous sticks up their butts, that’s who.
Maybe detention will get the dude to lighten up.
Because he seriously doesn’t know how to have fun.
I can’t imagine him having a girlfriend.
I mean, of course he’s had plenty of girlfriends because he was the school quarterback for four years and girls like that for some reason?
But I don’t think he’s been serious about anyone.
Not that I keep tabs on him or anything, but our families are so intertwined, it’s hard not to hear things I’d rather not hear.
With an evil grin, I park on the side of the road and take out my phone to send him a text.
Evie: So how’s it going in detention hell? Are you burning up and going through a rigorous cleansing process that will spit you out more squeaky clean and annoying than you already are?
Noah: I will not dignify that with a response.
Evie: You just did.
Noah: I’m going to delete and block your number.
Evie: But then who will you call when you desperately need a ride to school?
Noah: Definitely not you. Your dumpster car is a biohazard.
Evie: Her name is Evie Mobile.
Noah: You bring shame to the Batmobile with that disgusting car.
Evie: Say that again and you’ll regret it.
Noah: You bring shame to the Batmobile with that disgusting car.
Evie: Gasp! You’re dead in my books.
Noah: Good.
With a snicker, I toss my phone aside and focus on driving to my house.
I’m usually the first to come home, since Mom is usually running some errands, Dad is still at work, and Lily and Liam are at book club with their friends twice a week.
I prefer it that way because I don’t like to be interrupted while I work on my art.
I toss my backpack somewhere in the kitchen and go down to the basement with my phone, weaving through the stuff in my studio.
Mom and Dad always complain that this place is a mess, but I disagree with them.
Everything has a place and I know where everything is.
I continue the painting from this morning.
It’s a small city with a beautiful mountain landscape in the background.
It’s coming out beautifully, if I may say so myself, but good enough for my portfolio?
No clue. My future college classmates are so darn talented.
I don’t know if I’ll ever measure up to them.
I have no idea how much time passes, but my throat feels parched.
I ignore it at first, like I usually do because who has time for water?
But then Mom’s voice nags me in the back of my mind, telling me I need to drink or I’ll get dehydrated and then I’ll get sick and die.
Fine, she didn’t say the die part, but she was totally thinking it.
I don’t need a drink. I’m fine.
But after some more time passes, I groan and drop my paintbrush. Fine, a quick trip upstairs to fetch a water bottle.
After emerging from the basement, I make my way to the kitchen. But I stop dead in my tracks when I catch sight of two individuals making out on the living room couch. It’s Sibling Two—Lily—and her boyfriend, Xavier.
I lean against the wall and fold my arms over my chest. “Does Mom know your boyfriend is here?”
Lily jumps in her place, accidentally knocking her head into Xavier’s nose. He groans and clutches his nose, both of them crying, “Ouch!” Then Lily glares at me. “You scared me.”
“I’ll repeat. Does Mom—or Dad—know that you have your boyfriend over, Lily? I won’t be your chaperone.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “We don’t need a chaperone.”