Defending Parker

[Chapter 9]

Chapter 9

“I still can’t believe you put this off for so long,” Saige commented, grunting quietly as she lugged a can of paint up the stairs and into my room. “I mean, I was with you when you bought this, and I’m pretty sure that was almost two months ago.”

With a sheepish smile, I put down the can of paint that I had been carrying and tried to remember a time in the past couple of weeks where I would’ve had time to paint.

Before this week I was focused on everything but painting my room. First I had been focused on settling down into Byrendale and working hard when it came to track. Then, when history became a problem, I had been focused on studying and getting Parker to tutor to me, which brought me to the biggest cause for distraction.

I had been focused on getting to know Parker, and Saige, as friends. Up until this week any free time I had was spent hanging out with Saige outside of school or studying with Parker at the library or at the pond, when weather permitted.

This week, however, had been slightly different.

For the most part, I had let Parker be. I didn’t necessarily need his help in history at the moment, as everything was a lot easier to understand now that I was caught up, and after the scene in the cafeteria, I just wanted to give him a little space. I felt that it was partially my fault that he had been bullied again so openly, as I was the one who single-handedly forced him into the cafeteria, even though he didn’t seem bitter the last time we spoke, I still didn’t want to push him into revealing anything he wasn’t ready to.

However, as the days of the week passed, I did happen to catch him wandering the halls a few times, and after throwing him a smile each time, I would always find my gaze slipping to the sketchbook that always seemed to be sticking out of his bag.

I knew he had said his drawings were private, but that just brought out the curiosity in me, wondering what secrets he was hiding within the pages of his sketchbook.

Also, two days ago, while running on the treadmill, I saw the paint cans I had purchased all those months ago, and realized that it might be time to put them to use, rather than letting them collect dust in the dark corner of the basement.

Which brought me to my current situation.

“I just never found the time I guess,” I replied, walking around the room to crack the window open. “And now’s a better time than ever.”

Last night, my dad had helped me push all the furniture in my room to the center before draping a few layers of plastic wrap over it all. We had also put down old sheets to cover the majority of the floor, and he had taped both the bottom and the top of all the walls to ensure we wouldn’t accidentally paint the ceiling or the hardwood floor.

The sudden remodeling had left me to sleep on the couch in the living room, but I thought the uncomfortable nights would be worth it when I saw the finished paint job in a couple of days.

“And why exactly did you decide to wait until the temperature dropped to start painting?” she asked, pulling the old sweater she had tied around her waist on quickly. “Do we really have to keep the window open the whole day?”