A Work of Art (23 page)

There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn't know where to start. “If you're not too busy.”

“No, I guess not.” He stood and came to my desk, his eyes scoping the hallway. He stopped a foot from my desk. “What is it?”

Where to start? “I entered something for the contest.”

“That's great. Can I see it?”

“I uploaded it to their website. Anybody can see it. But I don't think it's good enough to win.”

“I'll take a look. It might be better than you think. And you still have time to enter another painting. The deadline's tomorrow, right? You could work on something tonight, or you could—”

“They're not extending my scholarship,” I said.

He took a moment to process that. “Oh.”

“So even if I win the contest, I don't know if I'll be able to go.”

“You can apply for the scholarship again. You know that, right? They award two every year.” When I didn't say anything, he peered at my face. “Something else happened, didn't it?”

I focused on the bits of clay scattered on my desk. “I know he's guilty,” I said.

“I'm sorry, Tera.”

I shrugged, like it didn't matter, like I hadn't given up the only future I had ever wanted in order to help him.

“You can't let this stop you from going to art school,” he said.

I thought of the face I'd drawn with its clotted rash. “I tried to draw the other day, and . . .” I shook my head.

“Trying is good, even if it didn't turn out well.”

He didn't understand. “It didn't feel right at all. It felt . . .” I picked at the clay buried under my fingernails. “Dirty somehow, like I was scraping out muck.”

“Because of what I told you? About digging out the pain? If that's the case, I take it back.”

“I don't know. I don't think so.”

“Then, what? Talk to me, Tera.”

He'd been ignoring me for days, and now he wanted to talk? “You won't even look at me in class,” I said. “Did I do something? Are you afraid my dad's sleaziness might rub off?”

“Of course not. I . . .” He bit back whatever else he was going to say.

“Never mind,” I said and got up to leave.

“Tera, stay. I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I was ignoring you, I admit. But not because I wanted to.”

“So . . . someone put a gun to your head?”

“Just listen to me. I'm trying to explain. I had a dictate from my boss. Principal Meyer told me to back off from you. He said it didn't look right.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Because your dad got arrested for child pornography and he didn't want anyone to think I might somehow be . . .” He heaved in a breath. “Comforting you in an inappropriate manner.”

Shame slithered around my neck like a snake. I thought of Mac and Joey and Johnny. What I'd done with them. What I'd let them do to me. “Because if my dad collects child pornography,” I said, “I must be some kind of slut.”

“I didn't say that.”

“And you're not allowed to talk to sluts. You're not allowed to look at them either.”

“Stop saying that. You're degrading yourself by saying that.”

“And yet you're talking to me now. Aren't you afraid someone will see?”

“I'm allowed to talk to you.”

“But you can't get too close. Is that what Principal Meyer said?”

His mouth twitched. “I can't show an interest.”

“Oh.” I pressed my lips together, nodded. My warped reflection glinted off his glasses. Two tiny splats of me.

“I'm sorry.” He moved his head and my mirror images winked out. “I'm sorry for all this misunderstanding.”

Of course he was sorry. So was Joey. So was my dad.

“You're okay?” he asked me.

I made myself shrug. Like it didn't matter. Like it didn't hurt at all.

• • •

As I walked down the hallway, a self-portrait formed in my head. I knew exactly how hurt and anger looked. My face long and pale. Blank eyes. A slash for a mouth. All my features blaring in stark light.

Once outside, the sun beat down on me, hardening my anger like an oven bakes clay. The bus sat shuddering by the curb. I was about to board, but a hand on my arm held me back.

“Tera, wait.” It was Haley, her eyes wide and blinking.

“I can't talk,” I said. “I'll miss the bus.”

“But I met with that lawyer guy. Herman Liebowitz.” She studied my face. “Did he call you?”

The bus released its brakes in an ear-splitting hiss. “No,” I said. “Not since last week.”

“Oh.” She looked confused. “He was supposed to call you.”

“Well, he didn't.”

The bus engine roared to life. The door rattled shut. “Wait!” I knocked on the glass, but the huge tires were already inching away from the curb. My arm dropped to my side. Shit.

Haley dangled the keys to her mom's Audi. “I can give you a ride.”

“I don't want a ride,” I snapped. “I want to know why I had to miss the bus. What did you tell the lawyer?” I knew Dad was guilty, but I still didn't think he had done anything to Haley. He always avoided her, called her a snotty little bitch. And he knew she was a huge blabbermouth. “Did you lie to him? What did you tell him?”

Haley's face paled. She shook her head. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Of course she didn't. I had missed the bus so she could have her moment of drama. Sweat trickled down my neck. “Why are you doing this, Haley?”

“Huh?” That innocent blink again.

“Is it so everyone can see how nice you are to talk to someone like me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you being such a bitch? All I wanted was to help you.”

We were starting to draw an audience, but I didn't care. I was sick of her phony sweetness, sick of everyone adoring her because she was pretty and drove a nice car and had normal parents.

“Did my dad actually do something to you, Haley? I'm sure everyone wants to hear so they can feel sorry for you.”

“Stop it. I'm trying to help you.”

“Trying to help by making sure the entire school knows? I saw what you posted on the school forum. ‘Don't study at Tera's house because her dad's a child molester.'” My laugh sounded hollow. “Ever since we were kids, you've pretended to help me, but all you really want is to stab me in the back.”

The whole time I was spouting off, she just stared at me like I was crazy. Like she felt sorry for me.

Her boyfriend Sam peeled away from the stunned circle of kids who had stopped to listen. He put his hand on Haley's shoulder, murmured in her ear. “Let's go.”

That seemed to shake her. She let him lead her away.

And then she stopped and turned back, her face crumbling. “You have no idea what you're talking about,” she told me. She was crying. Real tears. “Honestly, you have no idea.”

When I got home from school, Herman Liebowitz called the house. I knew who it was from the caller ID.

Mom answered it from her bedroom before I could grab it in the kitchen. She was already talking when I lifted it to my ear.

“She's not here,” Mom was saying. “And please stop calling. If she wanted to talk to you, she'd call you. She has your number.”

A pause. “You are aware, Ms. Waters, that I can have your daughter subpoenaed? I'd rather not do that, so if I could please just talk to her.”

“I'm here,” I said into the phone. “Mom, it's okay. You can hang up.”

“I'm not hanging up.”

“Am I speaking to Tera Waters?” the lawyer said.

I liked how composed he sounded even with Mom barking at him. “Yes,” I said. “I'm Tera.”

“I'm wondering if you can come to my office tomorrow morning to speak with me. I have something I'd like to show you, before your father's trial gets under way.”

“Is this about Haley Sweeney? About what she told you?”

“Who?” I heard papers shuffling. “No, it's nothing to do with her. Will you come?”

Mom breathed into the phone.

“What time?” I asked.

“You can come before school, I'll be here. Say seven o'clock?”

“That's fine. Let me get your address.”

I scribbled down his directions and told him I'd see him in the morning.

Mom came into the kitchen. “At least let me go with you.”

“Do you know what it's about?”

Mom crossed her arms over her chest. “He probably wants you to testify.”

“He said he had something to show me.”

“I don't know anything about that. Will you let me go with you? In case you need me?”

I studied her face. The way her eyes pleaded. “Yeah, okay,” I said. I couldn't imagine what she could do for me, but I'd let her play at being a good mom. She definitely needed the practice.

• • •

And still my day wasn't over. I had to work that evening. With Joey. I dreaded having to see him, deal with him.

The first hour of work passed slowly. Joey hadn't clocked in yet. I filled the salad bar and stood around the server station, waiting for customers. No tables came in, but the phone kept ringing for carryout orders.

After I keyed in yet another carryout order, I wandered back to the prep table to see if Cam needed help. He'd already seen the order and was smearing sauce onto a circle of dough. He dropped the ladle into the tub and picked up a handful of cheese with his gloved hand.

“You need any help?” I asked. “It's dead out there.”

He smiled. “Do you think you could scratch my ear?”

“Sure.”

And that's what I was doing when Joey came past—scratching Cam's ear.

Joey stopped in his tracks. A mean little smile curled his lips. “Scratching an itch, Tera?” He made a jerking-off motion with his hand. “Keep practicing. You're not that good at it.”

A flush crept up my neck. I suddenly felt very small.

Joey kept walking. Cam followed him with his eyes. “What the hell? What was that about?”

It was about me not wanting to have a threesome at his uncle's party. A
fucking tease
, he had called me. But I couldn't explain that to Cam. “I have no idea,” I said.

Sadie clocked in a few minutes later. “How're you doing?” she asked me. “Is Joey being an asshole?”

I shrugged.

“Because if he's being an asshole, I'll kick his ass.”

We started to get busy then. A bunch of tables came in at the same time, and I was hurrying so much that I made a mistake typing in an order. I didn't notice the mistake on the ticket until after I'd brought out their drinks. By then the pizza was made and ready for the oven.

And of course it was Joey, not Cam, who'd made the order. Cam smiled at me as he scooped up a handful of pepperoni. I tried to smile back.

“Hey, Joey?” I said.

Joey's eyes shifted to me.

“That pizza with the green pepper is actually supposed to be mushroom.”

Joey used the sauce ladle to point to the monitor above his head. “It says green pepper.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I messed up.”

He tossed the ladle back into the sauce tub. “Maybe you should spend more time doing your job and less time stalking me.”

“I'm not stalking you.”

Cam kept laying down pieces of pepperoni like the job required every bit of his concentration.

“You think I haven't noticed the way you follow me around?” Joey tilted the botched pizza into the garbage. “I hate to break it to you, but I sampled your goods, and I'm not paying.”

My ears burned. I wanted to walk away and hide my face, but I made myself stand there and look at him as though he hadn't just cut me in half. It was one thing to let my dad manipulate me, but I was done letting this jerk-off make me feel bad about myself. I did enough of that on my own.

I was trying to think of something to say—something that would show him he couldn't hurt me—when Mr. Barnes hurried past with a tub of dirty dishes. “Tera, I just sat two tables in your section. You need to move it along.”

“Okay,” I said. I knew I should stay and finish this, but I was glad for an excuse to leave. “Be right there.”

Joey laughed. “Hey, Tera. Two at the same time—just like the other night.”

I whirled on him. “Stop it! What did I ever do to you?”

Joey pretended not to hear me. He leaned closer to Cam. “You should have seen her the other night, going at it, with me
and
this other guy.
At the same time.
I can't remember the guy's name.” He looked over at me, his lips curled up in a smug little smile. I was losing this battle, and he knew it. “Did you catch his name, Tera, before you started taking your clothes off for him?”

“You're such a complete and total dick! Why don't you tell Cam what really happened?”

Cam grabbed a fistful of mushrooms. “I don't think I should be hearing this.”

“You definitely need to hear this,” Joey said. “You first, Tera.” The way he lounged against the table, the way he talked down to Cam and me—even the way he smirked—reminded me so much of my dad.

“He's pissed,” I said, “because I wouldn't have sex with him and his sleazy uncle.”

Cam dropped a pile of mushrooms on his pizza.

“But tell him the whole thing,” Joey said, folding his arms over his chest. “I thought she liked older men. I thought for sure she'd taken her clothes off for her dad.”

“You're such an asshole.” I wanted to hit him, scratch his eyes out. Instead I clenched my pen inside my apron pocket. I clenched it so hard that my fingers hurt. “Just stop talking.”

He looked amused, holding up his hands in a helpless gesture. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you're doing! Trying to pretend I'm some kind of slut because of what my dad did.” I couldn't hold back my anger any longer, and I hurled my pen at him. It bounced off his apron and fell to the floor. “What my dad did has
nothing
to do with who I am!”