Chapter 17 Heaven
Heaven
Two days later, I’m in my car outside Saylor’s house trying to figure out how to manage my newfound fame.
As of this morning, I have twelve followers—most of them are family, friends, my friends’ girlfriends, and Ink & Pearl employees.
I’m feeling the love and support. But I almost fainted when I saw that a local, but really popular artist, @Mad__Maddy, followed me back.
She even liked my charcoal self-portrait and left a heart in the comments.
It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it is.
I still feel conflicted like I’m putting on a front to Miss Kelly and not actually doing the thing she wants me to do.
And at the same time, I’m so glad Saylor offered to help me, even if it came with some pressure.
I’d still be frozen thinking about a new username if it wasn’t for her.
I’ve only posted one more time. An American traditional piece, one of the oldest styles of tattoos in the US at least. It’s a rose with a dagger through it.
I don’t know how I feel about it yet, but I sucked up my anxiety and posted it.
I also don’t know how I feel about the fact that Saylor was the first person to like it either.
We texted a little yesterday, even though we didn’t see each other.
It was nice. That’s a good way to describe it—it was nice to hear from her.
I don’t like playing the game of how much texting is too much texting, but she sent me this behind-the-scenes clip of her mom putting ointment on her face for some paid post that’s going up at the end of the summer.
I sent her a picture of Fergie and Di in what my mom calls their puppy cuddle puddle.
She tells me how cute they are and then asks what time I’m going to pick her up for our trip to the museum.
I try not to think about the fact that technically this could be a date, if we liked each other.
Which we don’t. I tell her I’ll be there at eleven and she says okay, night night.
I think the “night night” is cute and absolutely do not tell her that.
I think about starting a journal just so I can cope, but I don’t think I need to document how confused and hopeless I am.
It’s 11:05 and Saylor knows I’m here, but maybe she’s reapplying more ointment, so I wait.
I’m thinking how embarrassing I plan to be once we get to the museum.
Do I play it cool or do I let her know how much of an art nerd I am?
I mean she knows about my tattoo dreams, but she doesn’t know how much I love an art museum.
I keep thinking about how letting her know me more would make us better friends, and if wanting friendship is a thing I’m just lying to myself about right now, when Saylor texts me.
My mom wants you to come inside.
She wants to show you the tshirt design.
On my way.
Before I have my seat belt off, I see the Fords’ front door pop open.
Saylor’s standing there in a white tank top and another pair of short jean shorts.
Her mass of blond-brown curls are up in a high bun.
It makes sense since it’s so hot out, but still, even with her bright blue cast and her scratched up face, she looks so cute.
My brain shouts, Hubba-hubba! and I think it might be a good idea for me to get back in my car and go home.
Somehow, I make it up to the front door.
“Hey,” Saylor says. “It’ll be quick. She’s just really proud of this T-shirt.”
“It must be weird to want to show someone your art.”
“Come on.” She laughs. I follow her inside, instantly reminded of what Jake told me about Mrs. Ford’s insistence on keeping the place looking like a white and beige showroom.
He wasn’t lying. I follow Saylor into the white-on-white kitchen where her mom is waiting in a white linen shirt and some jean shorts of her own.
Saylor passes behind her and of course they’re related, but it’s weird to see how alike they are up close.
“Heaven! Welcome!”
“Hi, Mrs. Ford.” I can’t help but laugh. She’s like Saylor ramped to one hundred. It doesn’t help that Saylor’s standing a little to her left rolling her eyes.
“Okay, I just want to show you two my masterpiece and then you can get going.” Mrs. Ford turns her laptop around, and I’m not entirely sure Saylor didn’t tell her about my room.
The design is an arched rainbow with cute clouds on either end.
There’s a sun behind the rainbow and “Heaven and Saylor’s Summertime Bingo Challenge” splashed over the design in big bubble letters.
There are hearts and stars and sparkles around the whole thing. It’s pretty amazing.
“Saylor said you’re quite the artist, so I want your real and honest critique. Tell me what you think.”
I hear Saylor suck her teeth. “I also told her that if she’s set on putting this design on a T-shirt, it’s going in the pajama drawer and neither of us will be wearing it around town or to school.”
“I just want one picture,” Mrs. Ford grumbles back. I tilt my head and think about the colors and the composition and if I’d be brave enough to walk down the halls of CCHS wearing it.
“Center the design on a black T-shirt so I can crop it. I’d wear it to the skate park,” I say with a shrug.
“A crop top!” Mrs. Ford says. “The girl has taste.” She smiles at me and then nudges Saylor’s shoulder.
“Okay, we gotta go. We have an educational field trip to get to.” Saylor comes around the island and starts herding me toward the front door. I swallow and try not to focus on the fact that she’s herding me with a hand on my hip. “I’ll be back later, Mom.”
“Bye, Mrs. Ford.” I wave over my shoulder. My hip is still tingling when I climb behind the wheel, but as soon as I get the AC going, I’m distracted by the way Saylor is looking at me. She has this smile on her face, and it makes me feel like she’s plotting something.
“What?”
“I was thinking about how well that design would fit in to your room.”
“Did you tell your mom I was living a goth-flavored lie?”
“No. Your rainbow-tower secret is safe with me, but I was thinking that I need to come up with a nickname for you since I can’t call you princess.”
“Do I need a nickname?” I ask, and then I almost reach over to help Saylor with her seat belt, but she finally sorts it out.
“Yeah, I have nicknames for all my friends.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I pull the car out onto the street and start back down the hill.
“Are we friends now?” I ask, glancing over at her when we reach the first stop sign.
Saylor nods. “I think so. Or at least you’re my friend. I might have to put in a little more work to get you to consider me as your friend.”
“That makes no sense,” I say, ignoring the fact that my face is just getting hotter and hotter.
“Sure, it does. You’re cool to be around and you have good taste in cake. That’s friendship material right there, to me at least. But I still need to crack what you look for in a friend who’s not Jake or Axel.”
“Oh,” I say, sounding way more disappointed than I meant to. I guess I didn’t expect to get friend zoned so thoroughly before I even got a chance to sort out my feelings. But I guess Saylor just sorted them out for me.
“That’s what I think anyway,” she replies, doing this little shoulder shimmy of her own. And I guess that’s that. This sour feeling settles in my stomach, and I realize then that I have my answer. I did have a small crush on Saylor and now I just have to get over it.