Page 347 of The First Time
"I know."
"Good luck."
* * *
There'sa note on the table at home.
At Sarah's to study for a test. Already had dinner. Love you, Lizzy.
I'm not sure if I believe her. She spends a lot of time at Sarah's. But Lizzy's eighteen. Going out is normal. Dating is normal. Sleeping with guys is normal.
She wants to be an independent adult.
That's normal.
Even if I hate it.
I change out of Blake's clothes and step into the shower. Warm water hits my head, my shoulders, my chest.
I shampoo, condition, and soap quickly. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. I don't want to be alone, period.
When I'm done, I step into a robe, make a sandwich, and eat it by my computer.
There are so many art schools, but all of them want portfolio samples.
I haven't done any serious work since high school. Some of that stuff is decent, but it has nothing to do with the person I am now.
Maybe that doesn't matter. It's a college application. It's not like I have to bear my soul to some nameless, faceless admissions officer.
Still.
I want to show off my best work. Not the work I happen to have lying around.
I grab my sketchbook and a pencil and draw Blake from memory. It's not perfect. It wouldn't immediately read as Blake. But I have captured that impenetrable look in his eyes.
That lock around his heart.
I turn the page and try making it into something different.
Before the accident, I dreamed of drawing graphic novels. Capturing something real about life between the pictures and the words.
It's funny. Back then, I had nothing to say, and all the time to say it. Now that I'm bursting at the seams, I barely have the energy to pick up a pencil.
That's going to change. After this ruse is over, I'll have time and energy in spades. All of it will go to what I want. For Lizzyandfor me.
I try drawing a comic version of Blake. He has broad shoulders, round eyes, a strong nose, and a square jaw.
It's not quite right. I play with the eyes until they feel like Blake. There. It's not perfect, but it's a solid start.
I draw a cartoon Kat. Overdone waves of hair, tight cocktail dress, sky high heels. The fake Kat. Super-Girlfriend.
There's nothing about me in that portrait. Nothing real. I try my hand at the real Kat with her mess of hair, her casual outfit, her inability to open herself up. But that's not something I can draw. Not yet at least.
But I'm going to get there.
I may never unlock Blake's heart.
But I will figure out mine.
