Picasso's Promise

Episode 7| Gossip

"What?" I yelled, puzzled as to why Martin would say something like that.

Something so far from the truth, departing from the gates of believability and entering into a new territory of its own unfamiliar to me. Picasso would never send a hit on someone. My mind couldn't wrap around such a thought. That didn't make sense to me at all. His character and nature didn't match up with what my cousin was saying.

I chuckled. "I'm sure you're talking about a different person."

"You've been at this school for-what? All of three seconds? And now all of a sudden, you're acting like you know Picasso more than I do? We have history that pre-dates whatever it is you guys have going on."

I nudged him. "There isn't anything going on between us."

An unbearable warm consumed me, spreading up to my face and making me think the entire room was looking at us when he said that. In reality, it was only my imagination that manifested this fear out of nothing.

"I wouldn't even go as far as to say Picasso's all that close of a friend," I said, mostly so Martin could stop staring at me as though I'd grown a third eye. "What? I'm telling the truth."

"Sure, Sydney, sure," he nodded, giving me a playful wink. "Forget I said anything."

"No, let's go back to what you said."

He shook his head, stepping away from me. "He's not that much of your friend so why do you care."

"C'mon Martin. How am I supposed to forget that?" I yelled, but he was already mixed in to the masses, getting lost in the crowd of students. I couldn't keep up with where he disappeared off to in the sea of bodies. I had to talk to him again about this.

On my walk to homeroom, I struggled to brush off the words Martin said to me. Was there any truth in it? I could ask Picasso, but I only laughed when that came to mind. He wouldn't tell me just straight-up say: 'oh, yeah I've paid for the killing of a man, no biggie.'

I laughed to myself. How could I be dumb enough to take Martin's word for it? If they both had sent hits on each other, whoever they hired should be coughing up a refund because neither of the boys were dead.

They were still here, in the flesh, living and existing in the world. Whatever methods they took to take them each other off this earth failed, and it failed miserably.

Talk about pathetic. That meant not only did Picasso pick a horrible hit man, but so had Levi. Martin must've thought I was some gullible fool when he blurted that lie out.

❀

Picasso didn't make an appearance at school. So, asking him-even in a light, joke type of way-about what Martin told me wasn't an option. It wasn't something I started worrying about after the first day, but once the week came to a close and weekend had arrived, Picasso had missed three days in a row when he didn't show on Monday morning.

The night we watched Black Mirror together, we had exchanged phone numbers. When Monday came around and Picasso wasn't inside Home Ec, I sent him a text message. It didn't make feel right, none of it did. I had started to get concerned, wondering what was making him miss out on class so often.

"You think Genesis has Picasso stuck in her basement?" I asked Danielle, slipping in to my usual seat. Danielle Woods had a soft voice, smooth blemish free brown skin that only made her white teeth seem whiter, beaming her bright smile at anyone who turned in her direction. The day Picasso skipped out on school, she struck up a conversation with me. She wasn't my partner, but she did sit in the seat adjacent to me. "I haven't seen him a few days."