Page 15 of Just Me

One of the pieces I selected was an oil painting of a covered bridge with turbulent water churned up from a thunderstorm. Another was a sketch of an old man and a little girl playing chess in the park. I chose another painting—a particular favorite—because based on our discussion at lunch, it seemed appropriate. It depicted a field of wildflowers, but not when they were vibrant and vital, but when they had lost their luster and were just hanging on.

Placing my art on the easels for Bastian to view, I stood to the side and watched him but I couldn't read his expression. He studied them, really studied them, for a while before his gaze shifted to me. “You're incredible.”

Such simple words and so easily given and yet, for me, it was the finest compliment I had ever received.

He pointed to the field of wildflowers. “What do you call that one?”

“Mainstream.”

He reached me in two long strides. I felt my heart doing somersaults when his hands wrapped around my face. He lowered his head so that our lips were almost touching. Tracing my lower lip with the pad of his thumb, he didn't need to speak what was on his mind since I saw it burning in his eyes. Anticipation lit through me as I waited impatiently to feel his lips against mine, but a noise just outside the door pulled us apart. Ms. Whitney was back. Disappointment so profound washed over me and when I happened a glance at Bastian, he looked exactly like how I felt.

“Rain check?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Four

“He's picking you up in the mornings? How did that happen?” Poppy asked as we sat in her kitchen after school eating ice cream.

“I mentioned I walked to school and he actually got mad.”

“Well, it's infuriating that your aunt doesn't drive you to school. You can be damn sure that the twins will be driven in next year.”

“True, but I've grown accustomed to being the one on the outside.”

Poppy's lips curled into a snarl. “And that only makes me more angry.”

“And that's what makes you the perfect best friend: indignation on my behalf.”

Her smile in reply didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Getting angry won't change a thing, Poppy.”

“No, I know that. It's just, I was thinking about your biological father. I know you've come to terms with never knowing him, but I just wish it could be different for you.”

I wouldn't say I'd come to terms with never knowing my biological father, it was more that I'd learned not to hope or dream about it. There would always be a part of me that longed to know him even if it was just to see what characteristics of his I had inherited. But saying this to Poppy would only serve to worry her, so instead I replied, “Me too.” Changing the subject, I added, “I'm going to Reservoir with Bastian on Friday.”

“The boy moves fast, but I like him for you.”

“Why?”

“He reminds me of you. Totally together on the outside, but I would guess his home life isn't much better than yours.”

I was surprised at how accurately Poppy saw Bastian. “You're right. How did you know that?”

“I've spent enough time around you to recognize a kindred spirit.” Her smile turned coy. “Has he kissed you yet?”

I thought about our near kiss that afternoon and almost moaned. “He almost kissed me during seventh period. I had just shown him some of my work and he...” Just thinking about the look on his face when he was about to kiss me had my pulse jumping in my neck.

“He what?”

“He wrapped my face in his hands and lowered his lips so that they were almost touching mine.” I held her stare and grinned.

She was hanging on my every word. “And you of course encouraged him.”

“Yep, but then Ms. Whitney opened the door.”

Poppy dropped back down on her stool and sighed. “Man, that sucks.”

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