Page 163 of Filthy Liar

“Of course you did, you’ve been studying hard,” I smiled, taking Gregory’s piece of paper to look at it. “Damn, dude. You got a B plus?”

“So did Frank!” Gregory beamed. “I talked to Nancy earlier. She got an A in Math. We’re all going out for dinner next week to celebrate. They’re letting Frank come too.”

“That’s awesome. I’m glad she’s doing so well,” I replied, and I honestly was.

It had been a rough few months when the Butler kids had all moved to Kingslake, leaving Gregory in Ashburn Valley with Rory. The transition was a lot, but things had smoothed out nicely now.

Gregory was just a typical twelve-year-old boy, having fun with his friends instead of raising his siblings and scouring town for money to feed them all, and he was actually enjoying school and learning things.

The police had finally tracked down Florence, Gregory’s sister, but it had been too late. Her boyfriend was arrested for beating her to death and statutory rape, among other things.

No young boy should feel grateful to have his sister die, but Gregory knew she would never change. She was now at peace, and he knew what happened to her.

That was all he could ask for.

Frank and Lara had been fostered by Jade, Harley, and Alex for a few months before officially being adopted by them. Jade was loving being their mom, and Frank said she was so great with Lara.

Those kids got spoiled, if you asked me.

“Can we sit in on your class?” Gregory asked, giving me the best attempt at puppy eyes he possibly could. “We’ll be good.”

“Only if you help clean up when I’m done,” I grinned, both of them agreeing quickly.

I’d started giving painting lessons just for fun, and they were growing in popularity. It was free, and I hoped it gave local kids something to do with their time.

Some had even been hired for art work for local places, like the new cafe on the main road. They’d wanted a huge mural done on the side wall outside near their small parking lot, and they wanted it to be local kids who worked on it.

They’d paid quite well, and the kids regularly pointed it out to people proudly.

“You’re officially late,” Reid chuckled, grabbing the front of my shirt and tugging me down for a kiss. “Go have fun.”

“Shit,” I muttered, realizing it was now ten past three. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

“I’ll come and check on how it’s going soon,” he agreed, shooing us all out of the office.

With Zavier and Logan hanging out with most of the kids, and Ander still talking cars with the little boy, I got to work on setting up my painting station where a few other people were waiting.

Some were only young teens, while others were older adults just looking for a new hobby.

“Sorry I’m late,” I rambled as I got ready, grabbing the box of spray paint off the counter, along with my mask. “I want to do some free creativity today. Most of you have been here for a while, so I want you to create something for me. Surprise me.”

This particular room had fantastic ventilation and a system that sucked the fumes out, but I still covered our asses with the masks to save anyone breathing the chemicals in.

Everyone put their own masks on and set to work quickly, some needing more help than others, but I took the time to paint something for myself. I missed the hiss of the spray, so I wasn’t surprised when I accidentally zoned out and worked in peace for a while, losing track of time.

I couldn’t exactly go and get myself arrested for graffiti or trespassing, not now I had my sights set on being a teacher, so I’d forced myself to create mostly here, or if I was offered mural types of jobs.

My eyes caught on Rory as I glanced around the room to check on people, finding her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a small smile on her face. I went to walk over but she shook her head, halting me.

Whatever she wanted to talk about, apparently it could wait.

“Raven? I ruined it!” one of the preteen girls huffed, drawing my attention, and I walked over to look at her painting. It wasn’t wrecked, she’d just let the paint drip.

“You can’t ruin art,” I said brightly, pointing to the drips. “The cat is done, so just add more drips.”

“I’ll wreck it more!”

“No, you won’t. Do different colors around the outside of her so it pops more. Let it drip.”

---