Chapter 37
Riley
“This is week three of painting on Fridays with you, and my art still looks like trash.”
“Oop! What have we talked about using negative words to talk about our art?” I ask, adding one more detail to the painting I spent all class modeling. No drawing, just feeling, the theme for today.
Except all these kids have tons of outwardly explosive feelings—anger, love, frustration, excitement, even passion. So there have been lots of grunts and sighs as brushes cross over the canvases.
Sarabeth rolls her eyes. “Using the feelings to create, not to label ourselves.”
“Correct. Now, what can you tell me about your painting, since you were so quick to express it out loud before?” I let my brush rest on the easel as I wander around to see the creations.
I turned the lights off at the beginning of the class, dropping their guarded walls with it, letting them create on their own.
This group of older kiddos needs that so they’re free of bias and judgment from their friends, or the lack of it.
“It’s, um,” she pinches her brows, pulling a watch that look from me, “interesting looking.”
“That’s a start. Tell me something you did differently than last time.”
I stand behind Ethan’s art, a kaleidoscope of blues and greens mimicking the ocean.
He said he was grooving today, and that is exactly what it looks like.
I’m so proud of these kiddos. When I started this class as a way to use the extra supplies and bring in extra cash, I didn’t think we would A) have so many kids interested, and B) that they would be all in.
“I used more colors.”
“Which added….”
She searches for the right word, tapping the wooden part of the brush on her chin. “Dimension?” she asks, still unsure if that’s the word she’s searching for.
Which it is.
I beam with pride, for her, all of them, for me. My alarm goes off, reminding us it’s time to go. “Good job, everyone. Go ahead and clean up and put the brushes where they go. You know the drill.”
I open the door to the shed that, just two months ago, was a mess of storage and stuff everywhere. Now, it’s the home for this small class that has given me so much in a short amount of time.
“Ms. Riley, are you going to continue these classes beyond summer?” Rose, one of the parents, asks, approaching with a parent posse right behind her.
Will I?
I don’t know. I haven’t even told Lilly about them. Now that I think about it, I wonder what she would think if I do, but with everything as uncertain as it is right now, “I don’t know.”
“I hope you do. This has been amazing for Mila and her friends. They’ve been waiting for Friday all week, and it was the same last week.”
I knew it. They act like they’re too cool and shit, but deep down, they love it.
I can see it in their eyes, in the way they light up when they accomplish something, how their shoulders relax with a prompt they connect with.
The vibes are spectacular, and the entire place vibrates with good energy and joy.
Kids start spilling out in pairs, all waving and saying the same thing—until next week, thank you, Ms. Riley, that ate.
It’s not until everyone is gone that I let myself take it all in again, but not for long, before a voice I could recognize anywhere says, “What was this?”
Lilly and Willa are standing next to each other on one end of the shed.
In reality, I want to see Lilly’s expression as her being disappointed and annoyed at me, because it’s easier to just deal with that, especially if I can just brush it off, but I won’t.
I’m tired of assuming and then dealing with my later spiral, so instead, I opt for the truth.
“Um, an art class.”
“Interesting. I didn’t see it in the schedule, and why after hours?”
I lean against the door frame. “It’s not on the schedule because this is separate from camp. I’ve been offering these classes in the evenings for a few weeks now.”
“Weeks? I would’ve known.”
I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re too busy managing the rest of the camp. Come on in.”
We step in, and I let them look around, let them take it in. The shed is completely transformed into a space where creating is possible, where art, healing, and emotions move between every person who dares to be vulnerable.
Just like Juniper, Saylor and me. That night healed a part of me I didn’t know was broken, and watching Juniper heal reminded me we all show something on the outside that’s not exactly what we are on the inside. Only when we feel safe do those things come out in order to process them.
Like me right now.
I’ve been holding on to so much hate towards this whole situation with Dom, I didn’t realize I could choose to be miserable, or I could try to enjoy my time and grieve our situationship like I would anything that’s been lost.
I’m not a stranger to grief, and for someone who has figured it out every time, I definitely spiral entirely too much.
So do they. Especially Lilly.
I explain all of this to them as Lilly and Willa walk around the room, touching past projects, tearing up when I express how much it’s meant to some of them and me. I explain the three classes, the ages, how efficient they’ve been.
And then, I hand her a stack of cash I’ve been saving, enough to pay for the extra supplies and then some.
“Riley, this is incredible,” she says, swallowing hard and adding, “I’m sorry I was so upset at you over a mistake. I’m stressed out to the max, and any inconvenience, no matter how small, adds more to it. It was more about the problem, not about you.”
Well, at least there’s that.
“I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have.”
Willa takes a seat, giving us the space to explore this situation on our own. She usually mediates if she has to, but she doesn’t intervene if things are going well. Which they are.
“It’s okay. I, um, I didn’t try to order this much, you know? But it worked out in the end. Right?”
She traces the edges of Liam’s canvas, getting paint on her finger, rubbing them together, smearing it even more. I chuckle, tossing her a wipe from the counter and watching her quietly clean her finger the way I want us to have a fresh start, a clean slate.
“It doesn’t matter. I need to stop reacting to every little thing you do, even if it isn't perfect. None of us are.”
She’s not perfect? Go figure.
“You’re also not twelve anymore, and I forget I can’t protect you forever, even when I tried to tell Dominic to watch after you. I should’ve known you’re not a caterpillar anymore, but a beautiful butterfly with giant wings that should not be clipped.”
Aww, a butterfly—wait…she asked Dominic to watch after me?
“So is your plan to do this after summer camp ends? Are you really planning on staying?”
I told her from the beginning that’s what I wanted; why is it so hard for her to understand? But no, no, no change of topic. “What did you ask Dom to do?”
“Don’t change the topic. Answer me about staying for longer,” she adds as Willa stands, sensing the discomfort between us.
I cross my arms over my chest, setting a visual barrier between us. “I’m not changing the topic. You said you asked Dom to watch over me?”
“I mean, yes, I did, but not in the way you may think,” Lilly says, her voice edged with defensiveness. “I just wanted him to help you stay out of trouble.”
My brows knit, confusion sharpening into disbelief as I stare at her. So this whole time, this is what we were? Just work?
“But then I realized you two were forming a friendship,” she continues, her tone shifting—almost wistful now, like she’s replaying it in her head, “and he looked happier somehow. That man never smiled before you got here.”
I look at Willa, who pretends to zip her mouth, her lips twitching as she looks away, giving me space to process the bomb. My thoughts spiral. What is she saying?
“I thought you would go, you know?” Lilly adds, her word barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t want him to be miserable, so I just warned him about you leaving in the end, how I couldn’t lose both of you.”
“What?” The word rips out of me, sharp and stunned.
“I mean, it was just a warning,” she insists quickly, hands lifting as if to soften the blow. “It’s not like I told him to stop being friends with you.”
My mind races, trying to piece together something that makes sense, something that doesn’t feel like betrayal. When did she have this conversation with him? What exactly did she tell him? But above all, how dare she?
She said friends.
I guess that’s all we were really for him too. The realization settles, bitter in my chest. This whole thing is so fucked up.
“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Willa asks, her voice cautious now, eyes flicking between us.
I seethe between my teeth, anger simmering just beneath the surface. Cool, calm, and collected, Riley. Breathe in and out. So you don’t murder your older sister.
What in the actual fuck?
“Because Lilly not only has made me feel unwelcome here all summer,” I say, my voice low as I stare at my sister, who looks afraid of me.
She should be!
“But then you had to interfere with the only person who’s been able to see me since our parents died.
Sad Riley, happy Riley, wild Riley, upset Riley—he had seen all of me.
For the first time ever, I showed someone the ugly parts of me.
I thought he was running away from me because I was too much, but it turned out that it was you? ”
“Riley,” Lilly gasps, eyes opening wide.
“You’ve taken everything from me, Lilly,” I press on, “in the name of protecting me, and that’s not what love is.”
“Take it easy,” Willa adds gently, stepping in but not quite between us.
“No, no, I won’t,” I snap, shaking my head, the dam fully broken now. “She needs to hear this. You’ve hurt me with your words and your actions, but this,” I gesture sharply between us, breath uneven, “this is a low blow, even for you.”
“I can see that I hurt you, and I’m sorry,” Lilly says, her voice softening, regret clear on her face, “but I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I just told him to be careful, but it’s a simple friendship, not li—”
“I love him!” I shout, the confession tearing out of me before I can stop it. Lilly flinches, her eyes widening. “It’s more than a friendship, or at least I thought it was, but then he said he was done with me, and I truly thought it was me.”
My voice wavers, but I push through, the words spilling fast and raw now.
“I’ve been miserable, spiraling into the not being enough mentality when, in reality, I am enough and not too much.
I’m the perfect amount, and I can do hard things.
I’m smart, funny, and chaotic, but all those things make me who I am.
” My chest rises and falls with each breath.
“If not, I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off, or get more kids enrolled, or balance a bazillion things while keeping a relationship with Dom from you. ”
She gasps as I point at her, the accusation hanging heavy in the air.
“But now—now,” I continue, my voice breaking at the edges, uncertainty creeping in beneath the anger, “I don’t know what was real and what was made up.
I don’t know whether he was interested in me or if it was because you told him to be.
” I shake my head, tears threatening but not falling.
“What was a lie, and what is the truth? And it was all because you couldn’t trust me or even talk to me about it. ”
Lilly stares at me, stunned, her voice cracking when she finally speaks. “You love him?”
I throw my hands in the air. She’s impossible sometimes.
“That’s what you heard? Not the fact that you can’t trust me, no matter how much I show you I can handle harder things?
Or that maybe, just maybe, I’m wild but not reckless.
That I want what’s best for this place too?
That I want to belong here? For once in my life, I want to feel like this place is mine too.
But you keep making me feel like an outsider, and I hate it. ”
A tear trickles down my cheek. Damn it, I hate crying when I’m mad. It makes me feel weak and childish; neither are things that I am or that I want to portray myself as anymore. I need to walk away from her before I lose it even more.
“I didn’t know you and Dominic were, um, more than friends. Oh my gosh, he’s so much older than you are, Riley!”
“I fucking know! Don’t you think I know?
He knows it too, which was already a barrier, and now you're telling him to leave me alone, which adds another one. But don’t sweat it, because even though I didn’t want my heart to fall for him, it did, and, sadly for me, his didn’t.
So if you’ll excuse me, I would like to go for a run! ”
I leave the shed, not looking back, and run.
The only way I know how.
Far and fast.
Until my lungs burn and my tears have dried up.
Until I don’t have anything left to give. The night only has the desolate, persistent hum of my heart and the last of the bugs as I throw myself on the damp pasture, where I close my eyes and drift to sleep.