23. Sienna
twenty-three
Sienna
“And this, class, is what I’d like to call one of the most engaging works of art in all of history, the Mona Lisa . The Mona Lisa …” My History of Modern Art professor drones on about the Mona Lisa ’s significance, giving us all the details in the world about one of da Vinci’s most esteemed works.
I try to focus and listen to everything he says, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. Class proceeds like this for two more hours, with him talking and me trying to remember what he’s saying to me.
I don’t really know enough people in this course to ask anyone for help, and my stupid pride won’t even let the thought of asking for help linger in my brain.
“Can anyone name the artist behind this painting right here?” he asks, holding up a familiar painting. I squint my eyes to focus on the work ahead, raising my hand with all of the confidence in the world as I’m called on.
The painting depicts a man lying dead in a bathtub. From the few times my nanny Elaine would take me to Paris, she’d always gush about this painting whenever we’d go to the Louvre, even though the real one’s not there.
“John Singleton-Copley?”
My professor purses his lips, running a hand through his greying hair, and there goes my confidence.
“No, you’re about twelve years too early and in the wrong art style. The correct answer is Jacques-Louis David. Everyone, your homework will be due Sunday at 11:59…”
I cringe, ducking into myself as he continues on with his lecture. My grade in this class isn’t horrible, but a C isn’t great either, for crying out loud.
Don't you know anything, Sienna? How do you expect to ace a class when you can’t remember an innocent detail like that?
I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, caving into myself as class continues on. Once Professor Hewin dismisses us, I’m one of the first people out of the door.
The air is a lot crispier than it has been these past few weeks, making me thankful that I wore a hoodie and leggings today instead of my usual wear. Parking myself by the large oak tree in the quad, I sigh as my butt hits its root.
That was so embarrassing…
Sighing, I fold my arms over my knees and rest my head on top of them.
I know that honest mistakes happen and that I don’t have to be the best at everything, but a part of me believes that I do.
I need to be the best. I have to have my shit together.
I have to be the greatest because at the end of the day, I’m the only person in my corner.
I’m rooting for myself .
Getting things wrong, not being perfect—it’s like letting myself down.
I made my list to be able to free myself and let loose, but even with that, I feel like I’m doing myself a disservice if it’s not perfect.
My body shakes as I try to compose myself, counting down from ten.
I’m okay .
I’m okay.
I’m okay.
Everything’s fine.
Chills run up my spine as something brushes against my fingertips, and just as I’m about to freak out, my eyes land on a large pair of black and gold orbs. I blink, adjusting my focus on the orange and white cat staring into my soul.
“Hi…What’re you doing here?” I coo, petting behind the cat's ear. When it purrs and leans into my touch, I grin.
His fur is dirty with little pebbles sticking out of it like he rolled in the rubble outside.
Hmm…I like the sound of that .
“I’m going to name you Rubble…” I smile, petting the top of the cat's head gently.
“You’re a cute little guy but…Are you a little guy?” I ask the cat, chuckling lightly as it meows. I’ve never thought about owning a cat, but the cat distribution system just dropped one into my hands, so how can I refuse this one?
Rubble purrs as I hit a soft spot behind their ear, and they nuzzle their fur into my skin.
“I knew an angel came crashing down in front of me, I just didn’t know she was this beautiful.” Jace’s all too familiar voice is loud, breaking Rubble and I’s silent meeting as the cat flees away.
I groan, watching them leave, hoping to see them again before I look up at the man sidling up to me.
“You scared Rubble away,” I tut, dragging my knees back up to my chest with a pout.
“Rubble?” Jace’s amused tone has me scowling at him as I fiddle with the hem of my pants.
“Is there something that you wanted? Or did you just want to bother me?” I ask, my tone harsher than I'd intended.
Shit.
I wish that I didn’t know Jace or watch him so intently, because then I wouldn’t see it—the small flinch and wavering of his smile.
Jace chuckles unamused as he shakes his head. “Nope. I’ll leave you to your cat business.”
“Jace, no. I—”
He doesn’t give me the time to apologize for my harshness, and instead leaves me to stew in my silent pity party.
“Let’s take a…break…” I say in between breaths, dragging my limbs over to my dance bag as Daisy nods, in the same state as me.
Sweat glistens on our foreheads, our chests heaving as we take seats against the mirrored wall of the dance studio next to our bags.
Daisy hands me a spare bottle of the pink liquid electrolytes that she always has, and I down it in one go, throwing my head back with a deep breath. My actions of the day still loom over my head even now, three hours later, at dance practice.
Daisy takes a careful sip of her drink, unlike me, and pauses the music on our Bluetooth.
“So…” she says, taking out her loose bun, running a hand through her waves.
“So?” I muse, my gaze locked on the missing panel in the ceiling. Has that always been gone? Why have I only just now noticed that? I take a sip of the flavored drink.
“Is that guy your boyfriend or is the other guy?”
I choke. My neck snaps to Daisy, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar.
What man? And who is this other guy she’s talking about? Aric?
“Who–”
“The blond,” she says with a shrug, cutting me off. My skin heats from the mention of Jace before instantly chilling as I remember how I treated him earlier. My mind looms over the thought of Jace and I being together, but then I recall the rest of Daisy’s sentence.
Or the other guy?
“Wait…What other guy?” I ask as she takes a swig of her drink, shrugging.
“No one…”
That’s not odd at all.
I eye her suspiciously once more and decide to ignore her probing.
We’ve got a dance to complete and not enough time to do so.
With our project for Winter Showcase being a dance, we have to create a portfolio and essay on how we came up with the choreography, the theme, and what artist inspired us.
So far, we’ve completed about 40% of the written work, but with midterms peeking around the corner, we need to get in all the work that we can .
Daisy and I spend another hour working on our dance, but something feels off. I can feel her watching me, staring at me. And whenever I do something, she raises a brow at me before doing the same thing.
I don’t know, maybe I’m tripping, but something is off.
All of today is.
When I get back home, it seems that everyone has had a shitty day, my cousin included. Cleo, my dearest friend and closest cousin, broke me as she cried and told Georgia, Denver, and I about what really happened at her old school.
She’d caught her ex-boyfriend, Marcelo, doing steroids and when she’d told him she’d speak up about it…He threatened her with revenge porn. That douchebag of an ex of hers is going to pay one of these days, and I’ll be the one to make him pay.
Georgia, Denver, and I comfort her as best as we can. We listen to music to cheer her up, dance and drink a little until she finally decides to break and join us.
I want to feel happy that she’s starting to let loose, but I can’t. The mess that was my day still plagues the back of my mind, and all I want to do is release that energy. I feel like a bunch of nerves just bottled up, ready to explode at any moment—on anyone.
When the doorbell rings while Georgia and Denver sing their horrid duet, I feel like my prayers have been answered as Jake—the guy who Cleo has a crush on, stands on the other side of the door.
The two of them look like little puppies in love, and the rest of us know our time here is up when he pulls out a box of LEGOs for the two of them. As soon as Cleo has successfully ditched us, I make my escape.
Georgia and Denver pay me no mind as I leave the apartment, the feeling of happiness slowly washing over me.
I immediately feel bad as I sit in my car and stare up at the apartment.
From here, I can see Georgia and Denver laughing and drinking on the balcony—obviously in a good mood.
I’d be the worst friend in the world if I went back up there in the mood that I’m in right now and brought them down.
Chewing on my lip, I note the time .
6:12 p.m.
Everyone at the studio should be gone since we closed early today…I could always go there. I mean, I have keys to the studio and no one else is going to just show up out of the blue.
Making a hasty decision, I put the car in drive and head to the one place that I can let out all of my negative emotions.