Page 57 of The Fangirl Project
Anissa doesn’t seem to be aware that I’m wildly psychoanalyzing her, or feeling like a totally wretched excuse for a person, because she’s already leaped out of her chair to pull out a canvas from the back of the room and plops it down on a table nearby before adding her sketchbook beside it.
“I’m doing a storm series, for my nature-inspired pieces. So this one”—she jerks her head behind her at the charcoal piece, already busy flipping through her sketchbook for the right pages—“is your miserable, moody, British countryside weather. And then this one’sobviously more tropical storm—I need to touch it up, I know, everything’s half finished right now…And then I thought I’d do more of a woodland theme one…”
The canvas painting is the total opposite of her angry charcoal: richly colored palm trees bending in the wind, the waves off the sea crashing into each other almost playfully, a messy sandcastle with a red bucket half buried beside it. The woodland one is all vibrant wildflowers, petals heavy with raindrops, and evokes something calmer and gentler.
The guilt that’s taken root in my gut eases a little, as I realize that notallher work is as angry and sad as the one in progress on the easel; for a few minutes we lose ourselves talking about her plans for the different pieces and the feedback we’ve both had from our teacher so far, and the conversation flows as quickly and easily as it does in the Discord, our voices overlapping occasionally like we can’t get the words out fast enough.
It’s such a contrast from her usual reserved self. Almost the whole of lunch break passes with neither of us making any progress on our art coursework, and instead talking nonstop.
It’s only when a text pings through from Jake, making me check my phone and notice the time, that I remember why I came here in the first place.
I say, “We’ll have to pack up, lunch is nearly over—and I cannot be late for media again. Anyway, I was looking for you before to see if you wanted to come to a house party this weekend.”
“Aparty?” Anissa repeats, with such open disbelief written all over her face that it must be the first time she’s been invited to one.
I am a horrible, horrible person, and an even worse friend.
But my intentions aren’t…malicious. Are they? I’m not doing this to benastyto anyone. I’m just…
Thinking ahead. Big picture. Trying to…
I swallow the lump in my throat and forge ahead. It’s too late now. I’ve mentioned the party, I’veinvited her,I can’t take thatback.
“Yeah. You know my friend Jake? Jake Wandsworth, from school. Well, he said some guy at his school is having a house party, and he said I could bring a friend along. So I just thought…” I take a breath, Anissa’s wide, wide eyes and gaping mouth making me skirt as close to the truth as possible. “Because he’s anOWARfan too, and his friend Max—the guy who does the Sir Grayson/Moonwalker cosplay, he’ll be there as well, so I thought maybe you’d…want to come? Hang out with them a bit? You could come and get ready at my house, and—”
Anissa’s eyes remain wide, but now there’s a gleam in them, and her open mouth splits into a broad smile. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I mean…yes. Why not? There’s going to be alcohol there, and no parents, and I have no idea what any of the Colleg Carreg lot arereallylike, but Jake wouldn’t be friends with anyone that horrible—”
Except moody, judgy Max…
“And…and like I said, I thought maybe you’d get on all right with him. And Max.”
Very muchand Max.
I am a bad friend.
Or a good one? Maybe they’ll hit it off. Maybethey’llbe bestiesright off the bat, and I’ll get Jake back, and we’ll all be friends and everyone will be happy.
And I reallywouldlike to spend time with Anissa. The party could be fun. Maybe around some new people and with some common ground, she’ll open up a bit and be more like she is in the Discord, like she’s been this lunchtime. Bubbly and unfiltered and funny and engaging.
Is itreallythat bad if I’m also hoping she might take Max off my hands?
Anissa’s still quiet, so I carry on. “I don’t know if it’s exactly your scene, but—well, you could stay over at my house as well after, if you wanted. My mom won’t mind. And if it’s that bad, we can just leave early and watch some episodes ofOWAR.Or—”
“Cerys,” she interrupts. How long have I been rambling and babbling? It’s mostly down to guilt, but also I’ve never invited someone to a party and a sleepover before. This whole “making friends” lark is alotless straightforward when you can’t just match your outfit to theirs and bump into them at a coffee shop before school.
God, imagine asking someone on adate.This is bad enough.
No amount of rom-coms could prepare me for that.
So I shut up, and Anissa smiles at me likeI’mthe one who needs reassuring, and says, “That sounds awesome. I’d love to go.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, and promise to message her all the details later, and we can sort out timing for her coming by on Saturday.
Thiswillbe awesome. We’ll have fun hanging out, she’ll get on fine with Jake, I don’t doubt that she and Max will end up in somedeep discussion about their favorite fan theories, and while they’re keeping each other busy, Jake and I will have the perfect opportunity to grab some alone time.
The Fangirl Project is officially back on track.
