Tomorrow's Blues

9. The Paintings

A loud owl hoot woke me with a start. I'd fallen asleep at the desk, my face resting on my now numb arm. I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes and clicking my phone on to check the time. It was three-fifteen in the morning. I yawned and looked over the last bit I'd been writing, and, deciding I hated it, crumpled up the bit of paper and chucked it into the bin. Now I was awake, I was pretty sure I wasn't getting back to sleep. Plus, I needed to pee.

When I came back out of the bathroom, my foot stepped on a floorboard that creaked loudly. I froze, my eyes darting to Alice's parents' room. Luckily, I didn't hear them stirring. I looked the other way to Joseph's door, where I saw that the light was on. I deliberated to myself. I could go back to bed, where I likely wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, or I could go and see what Joseph was doing up at this time.

Before I even consciously made the decision, my feet started to take me down the corridor to Joseph's room. I didn't know why, or if he'd even want to see me, but here I was.

The door was ajar, but I knocked quietly anyway. There was some shuffling and the sound of paper being gathered together before Joseph opened the door slightly. "Oh. It's you." He opened the door properly and went to sit back down at his desk where multiple pieces of paper were in a messy pile.

"Don't sound so enthusiastic," I said, stepping in his room and shutting the door so as not to wake up Alice or her parents. "What are you doing up?"

"Could ask you the same thing," he muttered, neatly tidying up the paper and pencils on his desk.

"Thought you'd be able to guess, being all-knowing with this kind of thing," I said cynically.

Joseph merely paused. "I couldn't sleep. So I decided to do some drawing."

I raised my eyebrows slightly, surprised at his lack of contemptuous retort – instead he gave me an honest answer. I could do the same. "Well, I woke up and knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. And I saw your light was on. So here I am."

Joseph let out a small huff of amusement. "Here you are."

I stepped forwards slightly, peering at his desk. "Were you drawing?"

He twirled a pencil between his fingers. "Maybe."

I took another step forward, trying to peek over his shoulder. "Can I see?"

"No," Joseph said flatly. "Not these, anyway." He picked up the pile of sheets and crammed them into a folder, shoving the folder into a drawer.

I frowned. "You said I could."

"I said maybe," he corrected, pushing his chair back so that he could get up. He went to lie down on his bed, rubbing his face with his hands in what seemed like frustration. I frowned slightly and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's up with you?" I asked cautiously, sensing some annoyance, which I was pretty sure wasn't directed at me for once.

Joseph took his hands away from his face and dropped them onto the bed beside him. "I got fired," he said finally, and my mouth dropped open slightly.

"You got fired?" I repeated, probably not very tactfully. "From your job as an art assistant?"

"Mm."

"What did you do?" I asked, slightly worried.

Joseph gave me a look. "I didn't 'do' anything. They fired me because..." He cleared his throat. "You know how I work at a school? Well, one girl, who was like, 15, she... she tried to kiss me."

I very nearly laughed. Nearly. "She tried to kiss you."

"Yes. You don't believe me?"

I held my hands up innocently. "I believe you. It's just... it's funny."