Page 7 of The Love of My Next Life
I clean my station five minutes before the bell and am out the door with a quick goodbye to Hank right as the period finishes. I’m walking as briskly as I can, without all-out jogging, but the familiar slap of dirty Vans on the linoleum grows louder the more ground he covers.
I feel like the prey in a horror movie.
Within seconds, Macon is sidling up to me. I tighten my books to my chest, just as he yanks on my braid. Spearmint and weed and spice.
Caught. If this were a horror movie, I’d be dead.
“Why doesn’t anyone know you paint?” His question makes my shoulders stiffen.
“I don’t.”
“Sure looked comfortable in therepainting.” I stare forward and don’t answer, but he doesn’t take the hint. “I’ve taken art every semester, and I’ve never seen you in a class.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I don’t mask my surprise. “You take art?”
“Never tried to hide it. Unlike you.”
“I don’t hide it. I’ve never had space in my schedule for an art class,” I state. It’s true. I’ve been too busy with honors and advanced placement classes. I took intro to graphic design to fulfill my arts credit because it was safe and wouldn’t upset Dad.
Curiosity hums through my body despite my disdain for Macon, and I can’t resist asking. “So...pottery?”
He shrugs. If he’s surprised by my interest, it doesn’t show.
“Thought I’d give it a try.” He pauses and glances down at me quickly. “And Hank is kind of doing me a favor.”
I wait to see if he’s going to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Instead, he catches sight of Sam and waves to her before turning to me.
“Tell Claire I’ll catch a ride home with Sam.” His lips curl into a devious grin. “Gonna fuck her in the janitor’s closet before she drops me off.”
My jaw hangs open in shock, and he laughs out loud.
“God, you’re too fucking easy,” he snarks, walking backward, and I scowl. “Later, Leonard,” he shouts so everyone in the hallway can hear him, and then he turns and jogs to Sam. She flips me off just before they walk away.
TWO
“Hey, girls,”Claire’s mom greets us from the kitchen as we walk through the door. “How was school?”
“It was school,” Claire says, rounding into the kitchen and pulling herself up onto the counter. She snags an apple from the basket next to her and underhands it to me, then grabs another for herself. “Annoying but necessary.”
I laugh at her assessment and so does Andrea. “You’re so cynical, Claire. What about you, Len? How was school?”
I smile at her and give her the answer she wanted from her daughter.
“It was good, Drea. I like my classes, and I’ve got a senior free period last, so every day will end on a good note.”
At least Ihopeit will. So long as a certain “troubled” boy leaves me alone.
Andrea is pleased with my answer. I wait to see if she’ll bring up Macon’s schedule, maybe mention something about his free period, but she doesn’t. And in order for me to start the topic, I’d have to tell her that I’m spending my free period in the art room. I definitely don’t want to do that.
“Your dad is gone for a bit, right, Len?” Andrea asks instead, and I nod. “Did you want to stay here while he’s gone? You know we’d love to have you.”
“Oh, no, that’s alright, Andrea. I’m good at home.” Her face falls and Claire groans.
“Leeeeen,”Claire whines around a mouthful of apple. “Please? You know you’d rather be here than at home all alone.” She pokes her lip out, and I force a smile.
I wouldn’t, actually. I’d much rather be in my own bed, in my own room, with my paints and my music. I chew on my lip and force a smile.
“What if I come stay the weekend?” I offer. Her shoulders perk up. “I don’t want to live out of a suitcase the first week of school," I tell her, and it’s not a lie.
