Page 21 of The Art of Us

He handed her a cutting board and a knife.

“Wow,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Even your knives are fancy.”

Kal glanced at the knife in her hand. It was a Cutco. His mom insisted on that particular brand. She sent them in once every year to get them sharpened.

He didn’t know how to respond to her comment, so he instead asked what kind of cheese she wanted. They busied themselves with sandwich making before taking their food to the breakfast nook to eat and start the thumbnails Mr. Wasden wanted.

They had a dozen good ones before he realized she was staring at him.

“I’ve got mustard on my face, don’t I?” He swiped at his cheeks and around his mouth.

She laughed. “No. I’m just impressed. You came up with those sketches fast. And they’re good. Really good.”

“Thanks.”

“You really love art, don’t you? I mean, I sketch because it feels like cheap therapy, but you are on a whole different level.”

“Asking if I love art is like asking if I love cheeseburgers.”

“Is this where you tell me you’re vegan?” Her lips turned up at the corners so slightly that he could only describe it as a Mona Lisa smile.

He laughed at her joke and felt warmth flood his insides at this new connection with her—this connection of just talking and joking and eating and art.

“Yep. Vegan. That’s me. The sandwiches we just ate were made of vegan meats and cheeses.”

She nodded. “Nice. Quality replicas are hard to find. So, vegan, huh?”

“Yeah. Don’t even get me started on the evils of ice cream or, worse, pepperoni.”

When she looked pretend shocked at him, he laughed and held up his hands. “I kid. I kid. I love all of that, including the art. Don’t tell anyone, but I actually applied for an art scholarship.”

“That’s awesome. Why would it matter if anyone knew?”

“Eh, my dad. He would think it was awesome times zero.”

Ireland leaned back in her chair and puffed out her cheeks in a huge sigh. “You are evil.”

“What? Why?” She didn’t really think he was evil, did she?

“You turned the word awesome into a math problem. You’ve completely ruined awesome for me.”

Ah. She was joking. Funny. Ireland’s sense of humor surprised Kal. Her circumstances led him to believe that she would be all mopey and sad and scared. All. The. Time. But she thrummed with strength and humor and, sure, hunger too, but she wasn’t some helpless girl who needed him to save her. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from trying.

“Why would your dad not want you to have an art scholarship?” she asked, her fingers playing with the clothnapkin by her now empty plate. “Isn’t every parent hoping their kid gets a scholarship so they get out of paying for college and buy themselves boats or expensive ...” She looked around as if trying to think of something expensive enough. “Rocks,” she finally finished.

“Rocks?”

“Landscaping is expensive ... I hear.”

“But rocks?”

She shrugged. “Diamonds are rocks.”

He laughed at that, then stood and picked up their dishes to rinse off and put in the dishwasher.

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