Chapter Thirty
Damian
Sophie’s head is buried in her locker when I pass her in the hallway on Wednesday morning.
“Lost something?” I ask.
Her head knocks into the roof of the locker with a loud bang. “Ow.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She pulls her head out. “I was looking for a book. It’s missing and I don’t remember where I put it. But it’s not in here.”
“I can keep my eyes open for it.”
“Thanks. Are you going to class?”
“Yeah. We can walk together?”
“Okay, sure.”
I feel eyes on us as we head for chem. She’s the only kid in the entire school who talks to me. I wonder if she would talk to me if she wasn’t my tutor. Probably not. I can’t imagine my life without her being in it.
Sophie eyes everyone and turns to me. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t. I want to talk to her, I just don’t know about what.
“There’s art class today,” she says.
“Yep. Best time of the day.”
“Really? Not lunch?”
I shrug. “I can go hours without food, but I can’t go hours without sketching.”
She smiles. “It’s great that you found something you love. I’m not really good at anything.”
We enter the class and sit at our lab table.
“Of course you’re good at something,” I say as I take out my school things. “You’re a genius.”
“Thanks. Is that what you want to do when you’re older? Draw?”
I nod. “You?”
“I’d like to do something in the medical field. Like a PA or nurse. Or if not, I’ll probably be a teacher.”
I smile. “That’s really cool. So you want to help people.”
“Yeah.”
I turn to my backpack, then face her. “Can I show you something?”
She nods for me to go ahead.
I hesitate. “I’ve never shown it to anyone, not even my dad, and I used to be so close to him.”
Her face registers curiosity, a bit of confusion, and some sympathy. She must sense the way I’m talking about Dad—like I miss him. But she doesn’t ask questions or pry. I do want to tell her about my father. Just not yet.
“Are you sure you want to show it to me?” she asks.
My hands reach into my backpack and pull out my sketchpad. I take a moment to prepare myself because this is so personal. So not like me. But I want to share it with her.
After yanking it out of my backpack, I place it on the table. Sophie eyes it with furrowed brows. Then her gaze springs to mine. “Your sketchbook?”
Nodding, I flip it open to the first page. “Just some stuff I doodled. Go ahead and take a look.”
Class will start any minute, so this probably isn’t a good time, but something just compelled me to show it to her.
She takes in the first sketch. I drew this a few weeks ago, before Dad died. I sat outside my house and drew the people passing by.
This sketch is a mom, dad, and little girl holding hands with smiles on their faces as they walk by.
“This is great,” Sophie says. “You’re so talented.”
“Thanks. Uh…Can I?” She leans back and I reach for the sketchbook. “We don’t have time to go through it all. I just wanted to show you this.” I turn to the correct page.
Sophie leans forward as she studies it. It’s me and her in the library, having one of our lessons. It’s drawn from the POV of someone standing in the doorway. We’re both bent over textbooks. You can only see my profile, but Sophie is facing the viewer, and you can see her entire face.
She laughs lightly. “I look happy.”
I smile, too, as I take in the large grin on her face. “It’s how you look when you tutor me. See? There’s so much light in your eyes. Like you’re doing something you love.”
She’s quiet as she examines herself. “You’re really talented, Damian. I love it. You captured me so well, like you can look into my soul. Wow. You’re totally going places with your art.”
“Thanks.”
Before I can stop her, she flips to the next page. Right there in front of her eyes is a sketch of her face. Her sweet, smiling face and pretty eyes.
My heart goes still. I clear my throat and shut the sketchbook, pulling it to my side of the table. Sophie stares at me, but I don’t look her way as I put the sketchpad away.
Luckily, Mrs. Sullivan comes in and Sophie doesn’t have a chance to ask about her portrait. I don’t know what I was thinking showing her my art. I kind of forgot that her face was the page after the sketch of our lesson in the library.
What does she think about it? About my drawing it? Is she uncomfortable?
As Sullivan teaches the lesson, I can’t remove my eyes from Sophie’s face as I try to determine how she feels about it. But I’m not getting anything.
But then her eyes meet mine and she smiles. A smile that makes warmth spill all over my body. She’s not upset or awkward about it. She’s treating me like normal. Like we’re friends.
Truth is, I don’t really know why I drew her. I just can’t seem to get her sweet smile out of my head. I draw whatever I think about and I guess she’s been on my mind a lot lately.
***
Someone lowers herself next to me during art class, placing her easel next to mine. “Figured some of your awesome talent might ooze into me,” Sophie says with a bright smile.
I chuckle softly. “Not sure it works like that.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I peer at her painting. “It’s pretty good. Another scene from a book?”
“Yeah, that’s supposed to be a fairy.” She points to a tiny speck on the canvas. “She accompanies the hero on his journey to save his love. The non damsel in distress. But I think I messed her up.”
“Well, fairies are tiny, so it’s realistic.”
“Yeah, but I just wish I made her a little bigger so we can see her features.”
As I give her advice on how to change or improve it, my phone beeps with a text. Scanning the screen, I shut my eyes and grunt.
“Everything okay?” Sophie asks.
“Fine,” I mutter.
My phone beeps again. Mom is waiting for an answer, but I don’t want to answer.
“You sure?” Sophie asks.
“It’s my mom, that’s all. She wants to know if she should tell the caterer to prepare something special for me. As if she cares. She just wants to show off to her friends what a ‘great’ mom she is.”
Her eyebrow furrows. “Caterer for what?”
I puff out my cheeks. “Mom’s having a birthday party on Friday and I’m forced to go.”
“Well, she is your mom.”
I grunt. “Yeah, and she’s inviting all her snooty friends whom I can’t stand. I’ll probably be the only kid my age there. And even if there are kids my age, they’re just as snooty as their parents. I’ll feel out of place.”
She’s quiet as she studies me. “Don’t you have any friends to invite?”
I shake my head. “Got no friends. Unless you want to come.”
“Me? Are you serious?”
“I wasn’t, but I’m liking the idea now.”
She grins. “You mean, you won’t be in hell anymore.”
“Yeah, that. So…want to keep the non bad boy company?”
She thinks it over for a bit. “Do you have to ask your mom?”
“Nah. She probably wouldn’t even care. Or notice.”
“I’m sure she’ll notice.”
I shrug. “She really wouldn’t care. She’ll be busy being the birthday girl and will be loving all the attention. She’ll barely pay attention to us.”
“Okay. Do I have to wear something nice? Like a fancy dress?”
“Probably. That’s what all the girls and women wear. I don’t really know, honestly.”
“That’s okay. Addie’s got a closet full of nice clothes and she’ll be more than happy to lend me something. Gosh, this is exciting! I’ve never been to a wealthy birthday party before.”
I frown. “Believe me, there’s nothing exciting about it.” Although, having her there will definitely make things a lot better and fun. “But thanks.”
“Anything to help out a friend in need.”
I lift a brow. “Or maybe you just want to eat good food.”
“That’s totally the reason.”
We both laugh.
“I’m glad to see you kids having fun, but perhaps you should focus on your paintings,” Miss Moreno says.
“Sorry, Miss Moreno,” Sophie says. “We just got distracted.”
She pats her shoulder and mine, before telling us it’s okay and we should continue our paintings. She’s right. We only have art once a week and should use the time to paint. It’s just so easy and comfortable talking to Sophie.
Even the awkwardness from her seeing my sketch is gone. I completely forgot about it until this moment.
She doesn’t seem to be thinking about it, either. Maybe she also doesn’t want things to be awkward between us.
“So is my talent seeping into you?” I ask her after a few minutes of us painting.
She frowns as she studies her canvas. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Maybe it takes some time.”
“Yeah, I should probably sit here for the remainder of class.”
“Yep.”
Having her near me as I paint makes me feel a thousand times better. Like I’m not alone. I wonder if she feels the same way.
I’m painting another landscape. I wish I could paint her portrait, but that’s a bit too crazy. Why do I have this need to always paint or draw her? It’s like something is pulling me to do so. Is it because I want to remember her once we go our separate ways?
“See, that’s a painting,” Sophie says as she looks at my finished product. “Not my pathetic attempt.” She gestures at her canvas.
“It’s cute and has character,” I tell her. “Just like you.”
Her cheeks go red. “Thanks.”
Footsteps sound before Miss Moreno steps up to my easel. “This is breathtaking, Damian. Are you sure you don’t want to submit this or another piece to the art contest?”
“I’m sure.”
She nods, but I can see she’s disappointed. I don’t want to show my art to the world. It’s something so private. I don’t want all eyes on me.
“All right, if that’s what you’ve decided.” She turns to Sophie. “Would you like to submit something?”
“Thanks, but we all know my art skills are subpar.”
“That’s okay. All skill levels are permitted to enter.”
“Yeah, and I’ll probably lose in the first round.” Sophie shakes her head. “I think I’ll stick to my studies.”
Miss Moreno nods again and walks off. Sophie’s mouth opens like she wants to ask why I refuse to submit my artwork, but I turn away from her.
We don’t talk about anything else until the bell rings. Then we head for the library together.