11. Margo
Chapter 11
Margo
“ Y ou got into a fight?” I blurt out.
Caleb settles on the stool beside me, his easel already loaded with his year-end project canvas. It’s blank—I checked when he didn’t immediately come in. We haven’t worked on it in the past few days, and Robert mentioned that we’d be dedicating one day a week to it.
He looks like shit, though. There’s a drop of blood on the collar of his crisp white shirt. His lip is bleeding—or was, I guess, since it seems to have stopped—and there’s a blooming red mark across his cheekbone.
The rumor mill was fast at work, and Riley already sent me a video of it. Him and Liam , his best friend. Why on earth they fought is anyone’s guess. The person who videoed it didn’t start until after it was well underway.
And now he’s here, his posture straight, his gaze on the canvas.
Boys are idiots.
“Should I add that to my painting?” I ask dryly.
He shrugs again, avoiding my eye.
I turn back to my canvas. It’s also blank, but not for lack of trying. I’ve got paints on my palette, my brushes laid out. The turpentine to clean the oil paint in a mason jar on a side table. Everything is ready, and all I need to do is that first wash of color.
I just need to start.
Robert—er, Mr. Bryan—is circling around the room, and he stops behind me.
“Interesting,” he says. “Is that how you see Caleb?”
I glance up at him. “Can I just paint the whole thing black?”
Caleb grunts. “Real original.”
“You wanted a window into his soul,” I tell Robert. “And his soul is?—”
“Okay.” He holds up his hand. “I’m sure there’s more to Mr. Asher than what meets the eye. You’re our only pair that hasn’t even started . Why is that?”
“I have her figured out,” Caleb says. “It’s just a matter of finding the right way to portray it.”
I hum. “Pretty sure he’s blowing smoke out of his?—”
“All right,” Robert interrupts. “Come on, Margo. Caleb. Get to work.”
He leaves us, and I focus back on Caleb. Not him, per se, but the shape of his head. I use my pencil to sketch out a rough outline. When I’m satisfied with the shape, I dip my brush in the orange-brown paint, then turpentine. I use broad strokes to cover the canvas, and the color is thin enough to still see my pencil markings.
Caleb sits back, a clean brush in his grasp. He fiddles with it, his gaze steady on my face.
“You’re unnerving,” I say.
“You don’t look like a soul-sucking demon when you’re concentrating.” He leans forward and braces his elbow on his knee. “You stick your tongue out a little, like this.”
The tip of his tongue peeks out of his lips.
I frown. “No, I don’t.”
“Okay, fine.” He sits back with a smile.
So fucking smug.
“I’m going to add the bruises.” Not that I even have his face figured out… or where to start.
The other day, we worked on mapping faces. You know, drawing the circle and then the curved lines through it, essentially figuring out where to put the nose and eyes and lips proportionally. It was difficult at first, but actually more like math than anything else.
I got the hang of it pretty fast after that.
Robert circles back around, pausing at Caleb’s shoulder. He waits. The pause is pointed. Enough for the hotshot hockey star to heave a sigh and get his brush coated in the same orange-brown color. A lot of turpentine, which is meant to thin out the paint in this way. It makes it nearly translucent on the canvas.
Layering is the name of the game.
My little warm-up canvas sits on the table next to my mason jar. I painted a flower because he asked us to capture something pretty. And seeing as how there isn’t a lot of beauty in my life, recently—thank you, Caleb Asher—I went with some figment of my imagination.
“So, Margo.” Caleb eyes me, dropping his brush again as soon as Robert has moved on.
Should I be calling him Mr. Bryan when I’m here?
“So, Caleb,” I parrot. Unlike him, I keep going. I layer on more color, deepening where shadows are meant to be.
“You’re coming to my game.”
I freeze. “What? No.”
It’s a really bad lie.
“Riley’s going.” He smirks. “She told Eli she would. And she’s bringing her new best friend along, isn’t she?”
I clear my throat. “It would be supportive of me to go.”
He snorts. “For the team? Or her?”
“Her, obviously.” I wrinkle my nose. Maybe I can add a double chin to this painting of Caleb. It’s a whole lot of nothing right about now.
“I’ll drive you.”
I shake my head. “I’m going with Riley , as you just deduced?—”
“Riley’s going with Eli.”
“You’re bossy.” My palms are sweating.
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Aren’t you playing?” I clean my brush and set it down. “You have to be there early, don’t you?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’ll be fine.”
“What about Savannah?”
“What about her?”
I really do not like him. “You’re just going to kiss her again, aren’t you? Embarrass me in some way?—”
His smile grows. “By all means, keep giving me ideas.”
I groan and turn back to the canvas. Robert is across the room, demonstrating to a few students a different way to hold their palettes.
“I’ll pick you up at four,” Caleb whispers.
“No, you won’t.”
He tuts. “Arguing will do you no good, baby.”
Why does he keep calling me that?
I can feel his smile, even when I’m not looking at him. It’s because I didn’t protest or keep arguing. He knows that I know I lost.
Just another piece of this sick game we must play. He’s bullheaded about things. He’ll push and push and push until I give in… and then what?
We don’t speak for the rest of class—clearly, I’m no good to him once he gets what he wants—and he leaves as soon as the last bell rings.
Luckily, there are two days before the first hockey game of the year. That’s plenty of time to get Caleb to change his mind. Or convince Riley to skip altogether…
I’m the last person to clean her station. And Caleb’s, too, since he hightailed it out of here without doing a damn thing.
When I’m done, I stop at Robert’s desk. He’s all done, too, sitting with his leather briefcase closed on top of the desk. He’s typing on his phone and belatedly looks up at me.
“I’m not sure I’m getting the hang of this painting thing,” I blurt out. “And being paired with Caleb…”
Robert sighs. “We’ve known Caleb’s family for years. He may come off strong, but he’s a good guy. I wouldn’t let you be paired up with him if I didn’t truly believe that.”
Of course he’s already won them over. I haven’t even had a chance to make a case. And yet, this has been years in the making, and the unfortunate luck of my foster placement.
“He wants me to go to the game,” I say. “The hockey game.”
He brightens. “That’s fantastic, honey.”
Snakes writhe in my belly. I can’t answer and ruin his delight, just as he thinks I’m making more friends. Becoming social. Whatever his and Lenora’s expectations are for me… I am going to disappoint them.
There’s no way around it.
He and I walk to his car together.
“What time is he picking you up?” Robert asks. “The game is Friday night, right?”
“You’re on board with him taking me, even though he got into a fight?”
“Boys do that. Especially over girls.” He lifts a shoulder. “He shows good judgment other than the occasional tussle.”
Jesus.
If he knew what Caleb did in my room, I doubt he’d be so blasé.
Or…
I don’t know. Perhaps he’s not as invested as I’m making him out to be. Like, if I bring home a drug dealer boyfriend, they might welcome him the same as they would Caleb or a science geek.
I ponder that, plus Robert’s words. Boys fight— especially over girls .
It wasn’t over me, though. It happened right after class with me, but they didn’t even talk. And I haven’t spoken to Liam at all. He’s acted like I was invisible this whole time—which is fine by me.
But if we’re in the spirit of making Caleb angry… angry enough to fight and get suspended from the hockey team… Maybe that’s the angle I need to take. Get on his nerves by going after one of his friends.
Not Eli, of course. He seems to have something going on with Riley, even if she hardly knows. He’s usually cold toward her, but suddenly he’s offering to take her to the game? Unless Caleb asked him to do it to separate Riley and me.
Anyway. Theo is scary. Of the four, I’d go so far as to say he’s the most sinister of them. He barely speaks, never so much as looks at me. It’s like there’s a firestorm in his chest, and he’s just waiting for the perfect person to unleash it on. Inner demons, who?
I shiver at the thought.
That leaves Liam—the one Caleb got into a fight with, as a matter of fact.
Perfect . Unless Liam was bad-mouthing me, then I risk supreme embarrassment by going to him.
How much do I want to piss off Caleb?
All the way.
Resolved, I form a plan in my mind.
Friday night, I’m going to the hockey game. Riley will get us into the after-party, which I think she said might be held at Theo’s house. All I must do is corner Liam and lay out my plan of pissing off Caleb, and if he likes to push his buttons, maybe he’ll agree.
Or maybe I’m screwing myself over with this plan…
I guess I’ll find out.