Page 44 of The Art of Us

“I’m not the one who volunteered.”

True enough. Mara hadn’t volunteered. The task was Ireland’s responsibility. The extreme amount of time it had taken that day hadn’t exactly been fair to Mara either. Ireland had been doing much more than simply putting away the supplies; she’d takenthe time to craft her own piece of art. Mara wasn’t wrong to be irritated.

The conversation Ireland was having with the lipstick writer on the wall had shifted a few things in her. Maybe she didn’t dislike Mara as much as she thought. Maybe, like the lipstick writer was both scary and sad, Mara could be both monstrous and misunderstood.

Since Mara had initiated conversation, Ireland assumed it was okay for her to keep it going. “So, I have a date tonight. With Kal again. Not sure what I should wear. Do you have any advice?”

Ireland assumed that if she brought up the topic of fashion, Mara would be more inclined to keep the conversation going since she seemed all but obsessed with her clothes.

Ireland was wrong.

“Boundaries,” she said. If anything, Mara looked more annoyed with Ireland than she ever had before.

“What boundaries? It’s not like I asked anything about you.”

“You’re talking to me. And I already told you we weren’t friends.”

Ireland rolled her eyes hard enough to make her wonder how she didn’t give herself a concussion.

“I wasn’t talking to you, princess. I was talking to myself because the conversation is better. So, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, I’m not really sure what to wear. I mean, we look great in the plain white shirt with the black jacket. It’s both dressy and casual at the same time. And it makes us look like we have a figure, which is always nice.”

“You do know you can keep the tea to yourself, right?” But Mara no longer glared at Ireland. Instead, her eyebrows were furrowed in a confused knot above her nose.

Confusion, Ireland’s father had taught her, always worked to off-balance people who thought they were in control. It allowed you to pull the control back to yourself.

Ireland gave her head a small, firm shake. She would not be taking lessons from her father. The guy had landed himself in jail, so what good could any advice from him be? And Mara was right. Ireland could keep the tea to herself. She pressed her lips together and stayed silent for the rest of the car ride.

At the house, Grace was home and helping Jade with homework already. “You guys are home late.”

Mara pointed at Ireland. “It’s her fault. She had to stay after.”

Just in case Grace thought that Ireland had to stay after to do detention or some other activity caused by or leading to delinquency, Ireland hurried to explain herself. She talked about the mural and how the principal’s agreement to allow the mural to happen was partly dependent upon her willingness to clean up.

“Well, that’s nice. I hope you helped, Mara. Since you’re in the art club.”

Ireland wondered if Mara would lie and say that of course she was involved. But Mara ignored her mom’s question and started up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Ireland interjected. “Mara helped. Also, Mara painted the ocean waves. You should go see it sometime. It looks great. She’s really talented.”

Ireland’s view of where Mara stood on the stairs was limited, cut off so she could only see Mara’s legs and feet. But those legs halted on the stairs. For a moment, Ireland worried Mara would stomp back down and yell “Boundaries!” at her.

But that hesitation on the stairs was over, and Mara continued up until her feet disappeared altogether.

Ireland took the moment while Mara was gone to ask Grace if it was okay if she went out with Kal that night.

Grace gave her permission as long as Ireland promised to get her homework done first, which Ireland had already intended to do.

When she entered her room, she noticed that there was something on her bed that hadn’t been there when she left. Clothes. It was a whole outfit. The gray sweater with silver threads woven into it had a whimsical asymmetrical hem and paired perfectly with the midi skirt and the low-heeled boots.

Ireland recognized the outfit because she had seen Mara wearing it on several different occasions.

Mara had loaned her clothing? Ireland stood perfectly still for a moment, waiting to see if any other apocalyptic event might happen. She listened hard for any siren announcing an alien invasion and peered out the window to see if a meteor was hurtling toward the ground. But all was quiet. She glanced at Mara’s door. It was quiet there too. Ireland contemplated knocking on Mara’s door to say thank you but couldn’t figure out how to do that without being awkward and weird and maybe making the entire thing blow up in her face. She decided the best option would be to quietly accept the gift that had been quietly given and be grateful for what it represented.

For all Mara had insisted that they weren’t friends, this loaning of clothing seemed very much like friendship to Ireland. Wasn’t that what girls did for each other when they were friends? Loan clothing for dates?

Ireland grinned because, for the first time ever, she was going to go out wearing something that hadn’t been salvaged from a thrift store. Although maybe that wasn’t true. Grace had already declared she thrifted every once in a while. For all Ireland knew, this outfit came from the local Goodwill.

But even if that were the case, Grace’s budget for that type of shopping and Ireland’s budget for that type of shopping weren’t anywhere in the same neighborhood. They weren’t even on the same planet. Ireland was pretty sure they weren’t even in the same solar system. Even at the thrift store, Ireland looked for the clearance stuff.

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