Page 17 of Hidden Lies

I looked pointedly at the huge laminated sign tacked to the back of every lab table, which proclaimed in block letters, No food or drink in the lab, but he shrugged. “I didn’t have time for lunch. I’m hungry.”

I snickered, but shoved the chocolate in my own mouth, watching as he turned to offer a piece to Micah and Garrett at the table behind us. Micah took one with a bemused smile, but Garrett responded with a glare to rival Drew’s, then followed up with a kick to one of the legs of Devan’s chair.

“What’s his problem?” I whispered as we turned to face the front, and Devan offered me a sad chocolatey smile.

“I think he’s forgotten how to have fun,” he stage-whispered, earning another chair kick. A little while later I glanced back over my shoulder at Garrett, who had his face buried in the textbook. His restless energy was apparent only from the uncontrolled bounce of his knee beneath the table, and I wondered if it was true. I’d never seen him smile, never seen anything from him but intensity and tightly controlled emotion.

I remembered Micah’s comment from the other night by the lake—that he’d never seen me smile. With all the pain and unplanned changes in my life, I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t forgotten how to have fun as well, and for a moment I let myself wonder what else I might have in common with the dark-haired boy behind me.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks, life settled into a routine. I sat with Nora and Frank at every meal. I kept my head down in my classes as much as possible, ignoring everyone around me except the teachers, despite the fact that I’d been assigned a seat next to Drew of all people in European history. After multiple attempts at conversation that I’d managed to shut down with one word answers, he’d finally given up and stopped trying, though I couldn’t help but notice the narrow-eyed glances he shot my way.

Aside from my roommates and Devan and Micah, I got the impression the other students thought of me as standoffish, but that suited me just fine. I spoke when needed and avoided people the rest of the time.

If I was being honest, I found myself settling into campus life with less difficulty than I’d anticipated. Between classes, meals, and inordinate amounts of homework, the days blurred together and seemed to pass quickly. It may have been a school for entitled rich kids, but nevertheless the administration clearly prided themselves on providing a quality education. The work was hard and there was plenty of it, which made it even easier to keep to myself. I was able to tolerate Nora and Frank’s company just fine. Julie could be a bit grating, but she was often away from the dorms spending time with Drew or her other friends. When I did find myself overwhelmed and in need of an escape, or plagued by one of my all-too-frequent bouts of insomnia, I generally ended up down by the lake, stretched out on the jutting boulder, letting the sound of the lapping water and the view of the stars soothe me.

I had the rock to myself more often than not, and I tried not to let myself feel any disappointment at that fact, but every once in a while Micah would be there too. We tended not to talk, just shared the boulder in a peaceful co-existence, and eventually I followed his example and began to bring drawing assignments out there to work on when there was still light enough to see.

I found the art class was everything I’d hoped it would be, and the thought of dropping out before the end of the semester was starting to make me a little sad. Professor Linsey was actually a really great instructor, and I’d never had such unlimited access to art supplies before. It’d be hard to let those things go. Especially for a future that was so uncertain. California was home, I knew that much. And I did want to apprentice as a tattoo artist. But the thought of leaving was beginning to grow a little more difficult than I’d anticipated.

“Have you ever tried digital painting?” Micah’s words broke into my musings, and I looked up at him over the top of the sketch I’d been working on. We were focusing on landscapes in class that week, and it had been a no-brainer for me to draw my view of the lake. Micah faced the opposite direction, sketching the dense forest behind us.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was still a contrast to the peaceful silence that surrounded us. He didn’t tend to make conversation while we worked, but he was looking at me expectantly, so I gave a quiet laugh and nodded. “That was the endless argument in my house growing up. My mom did all of her artwork digitally, and my dad refused to use anything but traditional media. So, I learned to use both.”

“Do you have a preference?” he asked.

I shrugged. “They both have their perks. I like the feel and smell of paint and charcoal. But I love being able to make easy, quick changes too.”

He hummed his agreement, interest lighting his eyes behind the dark rims of his glasses. “So, your parents are both artists?”

I cleared my throat. “What about you? Traditional or digital?”

The moment stretched in silence, but to my relief he didn’t call me out on my non-subtle subject change. “I guess I’m not picky either.” Another long pause, then he continued quietly. “I don’t care all that much about the end result, I mostly do art for the way it makes me feel.”

I paused in my sketch, glancing at him over the top of my sketchpad. “How does it make you feel?”

He didn’t meet my eyes, just kept drawing, and for a moment I didn’t think he was going to answer me. But finally he gave a one-shouldered shrug and tipped his head to the side. “I dunno. It’s an escape, I guess. Something I have control over…where I can be myself.”

I thought about that. I had first gotten into art because it was what my parents did, and I’d been around it all my life. And since the fire, it was one of the few things that made me feel close to them. But Micah was right. In a world where everything had spiraled out of my control and I barely knew who I was anymore, sitting on this rock drawing pictures of the water made me feel more like myself than I had in ages.

It took me a moment to realize Micah had stopped sketching, that his charcoal sat forgotten by his side as he watched my face. I met his gaze. I wasn’t sure what exactly it was that passed between us, but while I knew nothing about this guy—not where he had grown up, if he had any siblings, what he liked to do outside of school or what his plans were for the future—and he knew just as little about me—at least for that moment in time, we understood each other perfectly.

10

While weekdays were generally filled with staggering amounts of homework, weekends were another story. It didn’t take me long to find out that seniors were allowed to leave campus each week on Saturdays only, provided they signed in and out at the front gate. Personally, I didn’t feel the need to leave, especially considering I didn’t have a car and nothing was within walking distance from the secluded campus. But Nora, it turned out, did have a car, and after turning them down four weeks running, I finally allowed her and Frank to pressure me into accompanying them off campus to the one bar in the tiny town nearby.

“You know none of us is twenty-one, right?” I said, even though I imagined minor things like drinking-age legality hardly mattered to kids raised with this kind of privilege. I sat perched on the edge of the sofa in our common area, watching the other two get ready. Discarded clothing and open makeup bags covered every surface.

As expected, Nora laughed and leaned down to pat her hand against my cheek. “You’re cute,” she said, pulling her head through a sequined top that exposed her entire midriff.

“The guy that runs the bar—Vinnie—he’s been there for decades,” Frank explained at my exasperated expression. “He knows most of the seniors here, and he’ll look the other way as long as we keep tipping well.”

I couldn’t say it wasn’t the answer I expected. Part of me was tempted to stay behind again. They kept the art building open until ten p.m. on weekends, and the thought of taking some supplies down to the lake was appealing…but then again, I hadn’t set a foot off campus since I’d arrived, and I had to admit I was beginning to get a little stir-crazy. I hadn’t spent much time with my roommates outside of meals recently, and it seemed like maybe a night off campus to cut loose was well overdue.

“You’re not actually going to wear that, are you?” This was from Nora, who I felt was hardly qualified to comment on my clothes considering she was barely wearing any herself.

“I was planning on it, yes.” I eyed her up and down. “You know it’s like fifty degrees out there, right?”

---