Where There's Light | ✔

08. Doesn't Make Us Friends

"I can't move my arms." Bee stared at the lock on her locker as if she could unlock it with her mind.

"You're the one that signed up for boxing," I said, scrolling through my phone.

She pouted, her green eyes drooping like a puppy's. "Help."

I sighed, putting my phone in my pocket and grabbing her lock. "Combination?"

"My birthday, duh."

I glanced at her as I started putting in the numbers. "That's a very bad choice for a padlock. Anyone who knows you could get in."

Bee was obsessed with her birthday. She counted it down on social media, planned the party out months in advance and each party always topped the last. Everyone knew October 16th was a special day.

When I pulled her locker open a flyer fell out. I recognized it from the restaurant a couple weeks ago. When Nolan told me about that stupid game. It was one of the flyer Farrah and her brothers had.

"I forgot about that." She picked it up, groaning in pain. "They're looking for employees. No one wants to work there, though, because Mrs. Grice is apparently a major bitch."

Bitch or not, I could use a job. There was no way I'd be able to get that pass my mom, though. Especially since I have to watch Taylor after school. Still, I held on to the flyer.

"Okay," Bee said, her puppy dog eyes back. "Don't you want to carry my books?"

* * *

After two weeks of going over safety protocols, how to use the tools and learning more than I ever knew about saws, Mr. Barton gave us our first project: building bookshelves for the elementary school.

We were separated into groups of four and told to draw up the plans for the shelf. His warning to choose our seats wisely made sense know that I knew why the desks were separated the way they were.

My group consisted of Candice York, the girl to my right, but she preferred to go by Candi. Hannah Balian and, of course, Nolan.

After the incident at the restaurant Nolan and I hadn't spoken outside of woodshop. Even then it was usually just asking to pass the tape measure or hammer or something like that. He didn't ask with a scowl so that's progress.

Today, now that we all had our plans approved by Mr. Barton, we got to start on the actually building of the shelves.

"Remember, measure twice, cut once," Mr. Barton said, then retreated to his office that had a huge window so that he could still watch over things.

The class erupted with chatter as people started to grab the wood and tools they needed. 

Hannah turned around in her seat, pushing her goggles over her black pixie cut. "I'm just letting you all know that I am afraid of the saw and I don't plan on using it."

She looked completely serious but Candi giggled. "Well, I love them and I'm willing to do all the sawing."

"How are you with painting?" I asked her, the idea I had for the design could use an extra set of hands.

She smiled a gapped tooth grin. "Better than I am with a saw."

Candi and Nolan handled cutting the wood while Hannah and I discussed the alphabet block idea she had for the left over chunks of wood. We had to raise or voices over the buzz of the three saws that filled the room.

Candi came over and dropped another block of wood in front. "What do you plan on doing with these?"

Hannah brightened up at the chance to tell someone about her idea to use the blocks to separate the shelves.

I walked over to where Nolan was struggling to measure the next piece of wood he needed to cut. He accepted my help. He followed Mr. Barton's rule to measure twice and marked where it needed to be cut.

"I didn't thank you for warning me the other day," I said, drawing lines in the saw dust that covered the table. "You know, about the game."

He shrugged, reading over our bookshelf plans again. "Yeah, well, you didn't rat me out to my dad."

"Wow," I said with mock amazement. "So you are capable of being nice while sober."

He pushed his goggles back, his eyes narrowed in on me. "Look, you help me out, I helped you. That's it. It doesn't make us friends. So unless it about this—" he motioned to the wood "—then there's no reason for us to talk."

I'd be lying if I said that didn't sting a little. Apparently he was a loner by choice. He went back to the wood and I rejoined Hannah and Candi who were now talking about Homecoming.

"The winners get tickets to Disneyland," Candi mused. "I love that place!"

"I've never been," Hannah admitted.

Candi's jaw dropped. "But it's the happiest place on earth."

"More like the most expensive place on earth." Hannah sighed, stacking the blocks in front of her. "The truly messed up part about this is that homecoming and prom court are popularity contests. And the most popular people are the ones with money. The ones who don't need free tickets or scholarships."

My ears perked up. "Scholarships?"

"Whoever wins prom king and queen gets a ten thousand dollar scholarship," Candi explained.

Ten thousand? That's almost a year's tuition at UCLA. Hannah was right, though. Whoever won would win because they had the money to pull off the best campaign.

* * *

That night I went to the school's website and read through all of the events. I'd never paid attention to school events before. Deshaun played baseball and I went to his games, and Bee and I went to the dances if we felt like it, but mostly I stayed away from school activities.

Whoever this mysterious donor was, they wanted to motivate us to get more involved in the school. There was easily over a hundred thousand dollars' worth of scholarships available for just about everything.

Got the highest GPA? Scholarship. Did you or your team place in the top three of a national competition? Scholarships for all of you. Even people who won the yearbook superlatives would receive scholarships.

I grabbed a pen to make a list of all the ones I could enter and possibly win. Art was of course at the top of the list. As soon as I scribbled down the word a sense of dread filled me.

My eye found the fluffy white rug on my floor. A rug that was in an awkward position because it was covering the giant stain in the carpet.

I had no paint, no brushes, no canvas. No money to replace any of it. Shit.

Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the flyer I kept from Bee's locker. If I could find someone to keep an eye on Taylor I could work at the market after school. A month could get me the money I needed for art supplies.

Maybe I could ask Bee to watch Taylor for a couple of hours. But Bee has her own life, she'd be too busy. I definitely couldn't leave Taylor with Ms. Coleman for a few more hours because she'd tell my mom.

Mom's catchphrase rang in my ears, we'll figure it out. I had to believe that was true. I'd figure something out.

//

Hi! Hello!

Do you think Jade can pull off keeping a job secret from her mom?

Did you feel the sting of the second hand embarrassment during that moment between Jade & Nolan? I did.