Mark My Words

12 | Unstoppable

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Lennie and Jamie-Lee were on talking terms again.

After several meaningful, slightly awkward stares shared between the corner group in French class, Dylan was back to shoving his foot against Jamie's lower back through the gap in the desk chair. Jamie jumped in surprise the first time, and looked back to find Dylan smirking at him. Jamie slapped his leg and glanced at Rosalie, who was trying without success to hide her smile of accomplishment.

That day as they all headed for the lunch room for study hall, Jamie-Lee fell in step with Rosalie, books resting against his hip. "I know it's, like, a ways until Homecoming, but... color schemes?" he asked, and Rosalie was almost too thrilled by the confirmation of their going together that she nearly forgot to respond.

They discussed outfits—Jamie would be wearing a button up and slacks (easy enough) and Rosalie was TBD—until Rosalie's phone buzzed in the breast pocket of her blazer. She lifted it out and found a panicked message from Sami declaring that he needed her presence in the art wing ASAP.

"I need to go help Sami," she said, pointing off in the direction of the art department.

Jamie flashed her finger guns before rotating them towards the soccer guys and spinning to head that way. Rosalie shook her head with a smile and hurried past Ray and Juliana, insisting that she'd be right back after helping Sami.

Rosalie spent a fair amount of time in the art wing considering she'd only taken one art class because it was one of several electives students were able to chose from. Sami had cruised through just about every art class available before settling on AP Art Studio this year. He had a twenty-five piece portfolio to accumulate by the end of spring, and he wasn't about to let a bit of procrastinating get in his way. It was why Sami had been painting to his heart's content during study hall when Miss Calhoun's ceramics class was in full swing.

Rosalie knocked on the door and leaned in past the foggy windowpane. Miss Calhoun was dressed in a pinstriped pantsuit covered in flecks of dried clay, and her massive, round dome of ginger hair swayed as she turned to greet the visitor.

"Rosalie! Lovely to see you," she said with a flourish. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Miss Calhoun. Is Sami around?" she asked, and was directed to the narrow hall connecting the kiln room to the painting room. No lights were on, and so Rosalie navigated through the dark before reemerging on the other side.

The room was vaulted with exposed air ducts and tall, narrow windows that made the strips of wall appear like cell bars. There, she found Sami perched on a chair, leg tucked underneath him, leaning over a drafting table with a charcoal pencil. The room was empty all except Sami, and now Rosalie as she wandered across the open.

"Rosie-girl—sit up there," he declared, patting a hand on the stone. "Art gave me an idea."

"Art? You two been talking?" she asked, curious as she relaxed back against the window, knees up.

"No, but I got a good look at his photos. I mean, most of them are documentary, but I like the idea of capturing the essence."

Rosalie nodded though she understood little. "Uh-huh, sure Bob Ross," she said.

"I'm serious! What say you to a twelve-piece portrait show? And I'd paint all my friends," he said.

"It might get boring."

"Right, right—which is why I'd make it documentary. And I'd borrow Dad's camera and take pictures of you all in your natural habitat," he said. "And I was thinking—'Well, that could get messy' because how do you tie in a dozen different natural habitats, you know? So I'd give them all the same color scheme, or maybe make them monochromatic but shift through the rainbow."