Chapter 2
FEE
Iglance over my shoulder, making sure I’m alone before I slide the printout from my portfolio bag and quickly tack it up between two large posters advertising the spring dance showcase and this semester’s production.
Sometimes my prints stay up for only a day, sometimes a week or two.
Eventually the proud thief will tag me on my socials, showing off the thoughtful placement in their dorm or apartment bedroom.
The stickers I leave in secretive places, like the gender-neutral bathroom before a busy lecture.
Those end up on binders and tablets and laptop covers.
It’s my little rebellion. The art I produce outside of the classroom is different.
It is raw and emotional. It’s where I put all the feelings I don’t want my classmates to see.
The little pieces of darkness that still live inside my heart after my parents died need a canvas, and a voice, and this feels safe.
I make a right down the next hall and duck into the women’s bathroom.
Three stalls line one wall. I slip into the far empty one and add a new sticker to the underside of the purse holder, beside two others from previous months.
I bite my lip as I read the comments around my lunar cycle collection.
Last month I illustrated a rainbow-haired girl lying on her bed, cat functioning as a heating pad on her tummy, the comforter pattern swirling blue and red beneath her, and a maxi pad functioning as a sleep mask.
The new one features a quarter moon with his eye cracked as an angsty teen pulls on his nightcap, her skirt made of rose petals dripping blood.
Praise surrounds the previous months in shouty caps, hearts and exclamation marks.
I bet this is how Cammie feels when she posts a new fanfic chapter.
Putting my art up anonymously, especially where I’m not supposed to, gives me a thrill.
It’s my private signature, and no one can connect this version of me with the sister of one of the Terror coaches, Toronto’s professional hockey team.
I tack up three more posters, different from the bathroom art.
These ones are comic book inspired; this month’s scene depicts a girl pining over a guy who never notices her, and the girl never notices the guy who isn’t her fixation, pining over her.
Like the lunar cycle, this one is a series, too.
Task finished, I slip out the back door of the drama building and head for the dining hall, where I’m meeting Cammie for dinner.
My heart does a pirouette and a stag leap when I spot her sitting with Mac at one of the many tables. He’s an unexpected and pleasant surprise.
I carry my tray over and take the seat next to Cammie, across from Mac. “How’s it going?”
Mac opens his mouth, but before he can speak, a girl plops down beside him. “Hey, Mac!” She turns to us. “Hi! I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Mac says smoothly.
I smile and pop a bite of my chicken pot pie in my mouth. Cammie gives the girl two thumbs-up.
She returns her attention to Mac. “Are you going to that big hockey gala thing?”
“Uh, yeah, probably.” Mac pokes at his bacon mac and cheese, eyeing it with the same longing that takes over my insides whenever I steal glances at him. My pining series might be slightly true to life.
“Do you have a date yet? My friend Chrissy is going with Lloyd. He just asked her yesterday. I’d really love to go. I hear it’s a lot of fun.” She bats her lashes and flips her hair over her shoulder.
It’s a smart strategy on her part. My stomach knots as we both wait for Mac’s reply. I shove the sharp jealousy down. Crushing on a guy in my friend group is a two thumbs-down situation. But Mac graduates at the end of the semester, and opportunity feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
“Cool, cool. Lloyd’s a good guy. I haven’t made any decisions yet. But I’ll keep you in mind.” Mac winks.
The girl’s face lights up like a pinball machine. “Great!” She throws her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. “I’ll see you at the game this weekend!”
“Sounds good.”
She flits off all smiles, with a bounce in her step and a shimmy in her hips.
Before Mac can take a bite of his meal, another girl comes over and asks the same question. As soon as she leaves, it happens again.
“You should probably just order salad, so you don’t have to worry about your food getting cold,” I say as he shoves a bite of tepid mac and cheese into his mouth and chews furiously.
He manages one more mouthful as girl four approaches. Mac adopts his megawatt smile while still chewing.
I jump in while his mouth is full. “The guy really needs to eat. He burns thousands of calories a day and he’s barely had a chance to touch his meal. Give the poor guy five minutes to nourish himself before you shoot your shot.”
Cammie bites her lips together, presumably to stifle her laugh.
Mac’s eyes go wide.
The girl’s face turns red. “I’m so sorry. I just…I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
I smile and aim for friendly and sincere. “Thanks. We don’t want him to end up with indigestion from shoveling it in too fast. It could affect his game.”
“Oh God. Of course not.” She flounces back to her table, glancing over her shoulder a couple of times.
“I bow to you,” Cammie says.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.” Mac forks more mac and cheese into his mouth.
“You should keep eating, because I can only deflect so many girls before your magnetic allure attracts another one.” I motion to him with my fork.
“You’re right.” Mac assumes the feed-the-beast position. He curves one hand protectively around his plate, leans in so his face is only inches from his food, and barely takes a breath between bites. He looks a little feral and I like it. I’d eat like that too if I was interrupted ten times a meal.
“Do you have someone in mind for the hockey gala?” Cammie asks Mac, sort of innocently, sort of not.
She knows I think Mac is hot with his red hair, freckles and enticing dimple, but so does everyone else on campus, so I’m no snowflake.
Mac shrugs. “It’s a lot to take someone to those events, you know? Like so much pressure. I have to make sure they feel included, and that they mesh with my friends and their girlfriends.”
I tip my head. “Then why do you tell them you’ll keep them in mind?”
He swallows his bite before he answers. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“But you’re giving them false hope.”
“I mean…I might ask someone, maybe,” he hedges.
I let it go. Whatever his reason for making every single girl who talks to him feel like he’ll actually ask her out isn’t my problem.
“What are you two up to later?” I motion between them with my fork.
“I have an assignment for social psych, and Gage said he’d pop by with notes from when he took it. ”
Mac’s eyebrows lift and then drop. “Why is Gage offering you his notes?”
“Because he’s a friend.”
“Right. Yeah. Of course.” His eyebrows separate for a moment before returning to their furrow. “But do you trust Gage’s notes?”
“There was a girl in his class who had a crush on him and she had nineties and always let him copy hers, otherwise I would pass,” I explain.
“Chase and I can make it,” Cammie says.
“I can also make it,” Mac adds. “I have notes from that class, too, and I finished with an eighty-six.”
“I’m more than happy to take your notes, if you’re willing to share them.” Mac’s notes might smell like him or his room. I could study and sniff him without it being weird. “Want to meet around nine at my apartment building?”
“Sounds good,” they agree.
Another girl gets sucked into Mac’s orbit, but at least he’s mostly done with his meal this time.