Page 2 of Absorbed

While the other students took their seats, Stacey continued shielding her stain and lowered her knees to skootch her chair under the table. She folded her hands over the drawing and flashed her most innocent smile toward their art teacher.

“Brown-noser,” Amanda said out of the side of her mouth.

“Takes one to know one,” Stacey whispered.

Ms. Moreno set down the guiro. “I’m sure with school ending you all have a lot going on.” Her words rolled out melodically, rounding the edges off hard consonants. “Don’t forget to collect your pottery from the shelves and grab your portfolios before you go. Anything left over summer will be thrown out.”

The only artwork remaining on the classroom’s peeling ecru walls were the bright Clara Ledesma and Frida Khalo prints, along with an “Immigrant Rights = Human Rights, STOP PROP 187” sign beside the American flag.

Ms. Moreno waved a stack of blue flyers. “Also, I’ll have Art Lab open Monday and Wednesday nights…” The bell announcing the end of the day echoed across the ceiling tiles, and was immediately drowned out by metal stool legs scraping across the concrete floor. Ms. Moreno sighed, dropping the stack of flyers on the overhead projector. “Have a great summer!”

Stacey waited out the crowd. Art class was officially over, and soon enough her junior year would be also. Just two days to go. She shoved her portfolio and sketchbook into her backpack, then looked toward the pottery shelves, wrinkling her nose. Stacey pulled her shoulder through the strap of her backpack and started toward the open door.

“Stacey, wait,” Ms. Moreno called. “Your self-portrait...”

Turning slowly, Stacey winced. Ms. Moreno approached, holding up the large white frame, and Stacey checked over her shoulder that the other students had really gone.

The misshapen body and blurred features of the painting belonged in the garbage where Stacey originally tossed it, not flattened behind plexiglass with a blue and gold ribbon. Stacey still resented Ms. Moreno for entering it in the regional art competition in the first place. At least the label said the artist and the title were both “ANONYMOUS.”

Stacey accepted the frame, but clutched the image firmly to her chest, hiding it from sight. Will this day ever end?

“I’m sure your family will be so proud of you! But why isn’t your name on the list for advance art next year?” She stilled her fluttering hands on her hips. Staring at Stacey, she awaited an explanation.

Stacey shrugged. “I have a really full schedule. All AP and honors classes.”

“Exactly! It would be a good outlet for you, and it’s only for students up to the challenge. I hope you’ll reconsider.” She held out her flyer. “And I’d love to see you at Art Escape this summer. I’m focusing the workshops on watercolor.”

“Sounds fun, but I got a job,” Stacey lied. She hadn’t heard yet whether she would be lifeguarding at the community pool, but the idea of spending any part of her summer at school depressed her. She wanted something more than always hiding in classrooms and behind books. She accepted the blue paper, tucking it between her fingers and the back of the frame. “I really need to head home.”

Ms. Moreno grabbed a doubled paper grocery bag from beside the door. Whatever was inside clanked as she handed it to Stacey. “This is yours, too. You left almost all of your pottery on the shelves.”

“I thought you said you would throw it all away.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Well, have a good summer, Ms. Moreno,” she said, forcing a smile.

Stacey trudged down the stairs to the lower parking lot and she breathed a sigh of relief that most of campus was deserted. The last few cars streamed out at the stoplight, beeping at one another, arms waving out of windows.

Heat waves rippled off the asphalt as Stacey unlocked the Silver Bullet, her ’87 hatchback Civic. She popped the driver’s seat forward and wedged the frame into the back, laying it face down with her backpack on top. She dumped the bag of pottery on the floor and pushed the seat back into place.

Without getting in, she turned the key in the ignition to get the AC going. She slipped her Dookie CD into the slot on the stereo, and turned up the volume. “Welcome to Paradise” blared out of the speakers while she waited for the car to cool down. Stacey turned back to look at the high school perched on the dusty hillside.

Her stomach dropped. For better or worse, Mesa Valley High was the only place she knew what was expected of her. And in two days, a whole summer of unknowns would begin.

Chapter Two

Stacey set her backpack on the kitchen counter, beside the blinking answering machine. She palmed a handful of Corn Pops straight from the box and pressed play.

“This message is for Miss Stacey Chapman. Congratulations! You’ve been hired for the 1996 summer season. Please attend orientation at 8 am on Saturday at the facility on Seventh Street.”

Stacey dropped the box of cereal and squealed, pulling the beige phone cord across the speckled Formica. Round yellow puffs scattered across the linoleum. Her golden retriever, Murphy Brown, wagged her tail as she devoured them. Stacey dialed Gabe’s number, wrapping the twisted cord around her index finger and bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“I got the job!” she squealed when he answered.

“No way? That’s awesome!”

“I start Saturday!”

---