23: Petals

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I pulled Beak Boy aside in the lunchroom Friday, the day before spring break, and asked if he still wanted that bird sculpture painted. That might've allowed me to meet up with him a few times over break to work on it. I was going to use him. I had to avoid my dad.

"I'm good, Emery." He clapped me on the shoulder. Luckily my shoulder wasn't where I was injured this time around. "You're a real one, you know that? Looking out for me and all. I appreciate it, man. But Jessy and I are already dating; no need to pretend I can do art, you know?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Glad you understand. I mean, life's never been better."

Good for him.

"Alright, let me know if you ever need anything, or whatever."

I found my way back to Azaleah at our lunch table and leaned forward on my elbows, keeping my voice low. "Is there any way you can loan your house to me while you're gone?"

She reached out and put her hand over my own. "I can't."

"Please."

"I would. But—"

"You can't." I nodded. "Got that the first time."

She pursed her lips. "I would if I could, but my mom already paid one of her coworkers to housesit and take care of Bishop while we're gone."

"I could've done that."

"They wouldn't have let you anyway." A stray red hair fell into her eyes as she tilted her head. "They...they still don't know we're dating."

"Will they ever?"

Silence.

"Don't worry about it. Anyway, I think my dad's been watching me. He'd notice if I went missing for a whole week without stopping by once."

Her eyes widened. "What? What makes you think that?"

"He's seen me go to your house. Walk to the café with you. And I think he was fired from his job too. That's how he's noticing: all he does is sit at home and drink. And that's why he wants me to get a job so bad."

"Oh my God."

I shook my head slowly. "I'm ready to move on. To move out. My mom made a college savings for me so I'd be ready the day I got my diploma. On graduation, you and I..." I pictured it: me and AZ applying to the same college, or at least colleges close by so we could be together. I'd attend an art institute. AZ would work towards being a counselor. And we'd be as far from this sad town as possible. "You and I are getting out of here."

One more year. One more year and I'd be free.

* * *

Dad didn't know I'd be on spring break. Hell, he didn't know anything about my life. He didn't care. But he did want to know where I went during the day so he'd rest assured I was making money, pulling my weight. Because once he believed my lie of having a job, he stopped caring. He sat at home and drank all day. I didn't know how we were paying for rent, but he didn't bring up our shortage of money anymore.

I pondered all this while painting at the Late Café the first day of spring break. Teagan allowed me to work on my paintings all day in my usual seat. She didn't ask why.

People came and watched me while I painted. They were all strangers, people who didn't know anything about me. I had no history. I was glorified there. I was the talented painter with blue hair.

I signed my paintings "Blue" to keep myself separate from Emery Cohen, the boy with a broken past, a broken life. At the Late Café, I was the paintbrush that gave color to the world. I left pieces of myself in my artwork. I gave away art that brought smiles and happiness to whoever saw it.

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