Page 43 of The Art of Us

She nodded.

It was a date. Kal had a date with the most enigmatic, incredible person he’d ever met.

Chapter Fifteen

Ireland

A date with Kal. Ireland had a date with Kal Ellis. One where he would pick her up and take her somewhere and probably let her kiss him again before it was all through, which sent an involuntary shiver up her spine and back down again.

She needed to hurry to meet Mara at the car. Part of her worried that Mara would leave her, except Grace had been adamant that Mara’s new chore was driving Ireland to and from school—no exceptions.

But she’d had to stay at her last class to get clarification on an assignment, and she still had to clean up the paints at the mural.

As she entered the art room, something bright and new caught her eye. Another pink paint-and-lipstick flower.

Ireland frowned. She needed to hurry because Mara could leave, but ... the mystery lipstick writer had struck again. She needed to know what the new message said. She moved closer to read.

“The moon will turn away in shame because I look like this...”

The words were bigger than before, so they took up the entire flower. Hanging off one of the petals was a distorted creature. The creature was a beast as hideous as the first flower had claimed it to be. The creator had used paints for the monster, which looked like it could have been a woman but bald, with gouges scarring the head, face, and limbs as it hung from one arm and looked out as if staring straight back at anyone who might be staring at it.

It could have been a thing from nightmares, looking human enough but also “off” enough to be twisting to the eye. But as Ireland gazed on it, she saw what Kal had seen in the words. She saw the sad.

The eyes looked like they were on the verge of tears.

The little creature had obviously been done quickly, the brushstrokes having an unfinished quality to them, but it was still striking. Ireland glanced at the door. She needed to leave, or she’dgetleft. But the idea of rushing off to placate Mara felt like abandoning her mystery lipstick artist. She hurried to dip the small brush into the green paint so she could respond.

As Ireland pulled the brush from the paint, she realized what she could say. She took out her phone to look up a few images so that her own picture would look proportionately right. Then she began carefully tracing the words into the stem. She cleaned her brush and squeezed out a few colors of acrylics onto the edge of one of the used plates that had been left.

She got to work on the message.

When she was done, she felt satisfied by the end product. She’d never created any kind of art that made her as happy as this did. She took a picture of it, making sure both of the flower messages were in the frame because all of it together was what made it powerful.

In the stem, the message read, “You must be using a twisted mirror that distorts images. I got you a new one to see yourself clearly.” Hanging from one of the leaves, she drew an intricate silver mirror with the words, “You are beautiful,” in the reflection.

She took a deep breath, satisfied, and then hurried to clean up the art supplies, getting all the tubes capped and the brushes properly cleaned. She put the bin of supplies under the table.

Mr. Wasden poked his head out of his gallery. “Hey. I thought I heard someone out here. You ready for me to lock up?”

“Yeah. All ready. See you tomorrow.”

At the car, Mara was waiting. She turned her full glare on Ireland. “Where have you been?”

Ireland would have laughed because Mara sounded like a stern mom at that moment. And Ireland would know what that sounded like since Mara and Grace had gotten into an argument the night before, and Grace had started the argument with those exact words. But Ireland didn’t think Mara would take being laughed at very kindly.

“I have to put the paint stuff away. You know that.”

“If it’s going to take that much time every day, you’ll need to find somebody else to do it.”

They both got into the car, with Mara shutting her door harder than necessary. Again. Maybe she wasn’t slamming the door. Maybe the driver’s side didn’t close tightly unless it got slammed. Because it seemed that was all Mara ever did when she was closing the door around Ireland.

Mara started the car and huffed when she saw the clock on the dash display. “Seriously. You’re going to need to find somebody else. I cannot wait for you every single day. This is ridiculous.”

“You could make it go faster by helping me out,” Ireland suggested. “After all, you’re in the art club too. This should be your responsibility as well.”

Mara cut a glance at Ireland before she pulled the car out onto the road. “Are you kidding me right now? You’re trying to delegate to me? Seriously?”

“Just saying. If you’re in a hurry ...”

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