Art Geeks and Prom Queens (15 page)

The next morning when Kristi picks me up she’s all excited, talking about my party, how totally cool my mom is, and how awesome it’s all gonna be even though it’s totally last minute. I don’t do much except nod and go along, partly because my head feels completely sand-bagged from that pill I took, and partly because I’ve made the decision to just let it go. I mean, my mom working alone is bad enough. But my mom paired with Kristi is a force I just don’t have the energy to fight.

“Um, what was that pill you gave me the other day?” I ask, leaning my head against the neck rest, and totally interrupting her.

“Just Valium. Why? Did you take it?” Her eyes light up.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if I liked it.”

“What do you mean?” She looks at me closely.

“Well, my head feels a little funny. And like, it totally knocked me out.”

“That’s the point. I’ve got more. My mom has a cabinet full of stuff from her shrink and all of her surgeries.”

She looks over and sees the expression on my face. “
Plastic
surgeries. You didn’t really think her nose and boobs were real, did you?” She laughs.

I just shrug.

“Anyway, your mom even promised that she’ll only be there for the
very beginning then she’ll bail so we can have fun. I’ve arranged it so that your parents are going to dinner with my mom and stepdad. And trust me, the guest list is totally A-list,
and
since it’s your birthday, you get first crack at all the guys!”

She’s looking at me and I know I’m supposed to be superexcited by that, so I give her a big smile that hopefully resembles someone who is.

And then all through English she sends me like a zillion text messages about the party. By the sixth one I am so totally over it, I feel like turning it off. But I don’t, because you just don’t ignore Kristi. So I keep that fake smile firmly plastered on my face, and send little messages back, while Mrs. Abbott drones on and on about Hemingway’s spare, masculine, journalistic style.

When I get to Art (late, again, and yes, on purpose), Ms. Tate is in the middle of a slide presentation. And right between projections she stops lecturing and says, “Rio, welcome. Starting tomorrow could you please make an effort to get here on time?”

Wow, I guess even the laid-back Ms. Tate has her limits. I mumble an apology, slink toward my desk, and sit next to Mason who glances at me briefly, then focuses her attention back on the screen.

So I look at Jas, trying to determine if there’s anything different between us since he gave me that picture. But he just nods and smiles and looks back at the screen.

And I hate to admit it, but I don’t look at the screen. I just open my notebook and doodle more crap.

When I get home from school my mom’s not there, so on my way to my room I stop by the kitchen to grab something to eat. But when I pass the downstairs guest room I do a double take. She can’t be serious.

I push the door all the way open and gape at the fake potted palms, the double-layered mosquito nets, and the dust ruffles resembling gigantic grass hula skirts, and I can only wonder whose “genius” idea this
was—my mom’s or Michael’s? I mean, it looks just like a room you might find in a cheesy Caribbean hotel, or a Disney theme park.

Jeez, I’m starting to feel like I need a passport just to move from room to room.

I close the door so I won’t have to look at it again and go upstairs to my room, which is like the only normal place in this house. Then I drop my books right in front of—
the picture Jas made!

Ohmygod! What if my mom saw it?

I meant to hide it this morning, before I left for school, but I was so messed-up from that stupid Valium I forgot. I quickly grab it and shove it under my bed, covering it up with my “    ape        Crew” sweat-shirt. Then I sit at my desk and take some deep cleansing breaths and pray she didn’t see it.

So imagine my surprise the next day, when my mom drops me off, and all the important juniors, and even a few seniors are waving around their very own postcard-sized version of Jas’s painting.

“Hey, Brazil! Check it out!” Kristi says, running toward me, waving one in the air.

I grab it, flip it over, and quickly scan the back. I’m completely horrified when I realize it’s an invitation to my party.

“Where’d you get this?” I ask, with barely concealed panic.

“Your mom had them made! Aren’t they awesome? Oh, my god, everyone’s coming, including Drew and some of his hot friends. It’s gonna be
so great!
”

I just stand there feeling completely ill, and when I look up, I see Jas.

Oh, god.

But Kristi sees him, too, and as he walks by she goes, “Hey Jas,
nice work.
” Then she hands him one so he can see it all up close and personal.

I just stand there watching him trace his finger over the front, before he flips it over and reads the back. When he’s done he hands it back to Kristi, but his eyes are on me.

I know I should say something, anything. But I just continue to
stand there like a total retard. Then the first period bell rings and Kristi looks at Jas and goes, “Ciao, loser!” Then she puts her arm through mine and drags me all the way across the quad.

And I don’t try to stop her, and I don’t look back. Not even once.

I want to ditch Art.

And I seriously consider it, until I see Ms. Tate in the hall and she says, “So, how’s your project coming along?”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

“Good.” She nods. “I’m very interested in seeing your interpretation of Beauty.”

“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, reluctantly following her into the classroom and wondering if I should hold my breath and try to faint or something, since at this point I’d rather be rushed to the emergency room than face Jas. But awful as I may feel, I can’t just faint on cue. So I suck it up and head for my seat.

The second I sit down Mason goes, “Hey, what’s up?”

And I go, “Um, nothing.” And then I shrug. And then I smile. But she just looks at me, and then at Jas (who I’m still afraid to look at), then she gets up and goes over to her easel.

I can feel Jas staring at me, and I know I have to say something, so I take a deep breath and go, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know my mom was going to do that. She swiped it out of my room without asking. And you have to believe me, because I never would have allowed it.” When I finally glance at him, I feel even worse, because he’s looking at me like I’m some horrible person.

“So you bootleg my work, and I don’t even get an invite?” he says.

Okay, I’m just gonna go with the truth. I mean, I owe him that. So I say, “Jas, I’m really sorry but I can’t invite you.”

“Why? Concerned about fire codes?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t invite you because my mom and Kristi are planning the party, and my mom thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“What? Why?” He leans toward me, waiting for an answer.

“Well,” I say, my eyes glued to the scarred wood tabletop. “Because I was with you when I got detention.”

“Yeah, and I picked you up to go to dinner a few days later. She didn’t seem to have a problem with me then.”

Okay, technically that’s true. But I can’t exactly tell him how I came home that night totally freaked-out and red-faced because I discovered he had a girlfriend just seconds after throwing myself at him. And how my mom totally misread it—and I let her. So I just say, “Well, she waited up for me, and she knew I’d been drinking, so she said I couldn’t hang with you guys anymore.”

“Drinking? Rio, you had like
one
glass of wine. You were fine when we dropped you off. I don’t get it.”

I just shrug, and continue to stare at the table, but I can feel him looking at me.

“Well, I guess that explains it.”

“Explains what?” I ask, looking up.

“Why you just stopped hanging with us. But I wonder. If your mom thinks
I’m
a bad influence, how’d you get
Kristi
past her?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively.

“Come
on,
Rio, you’ve been hanging with her long enough to know what I’m referring to.” He narrows his eyes.

And did he just smirk?

I lean all the way back in my chair, and cross my arms in front of me. “Well, I’m sorry
Jas,
but I
don’t
know what you’re referring to. And before you say anything else you might regret, you should know that Kristi Wood is one of my best friends. I mean, it’s not like she ever
misled me
or
lied
to me.” I lock eyes with him.

“So far, I have no regrets,” he says, smiling.

Smiling? Does he think this is funny?

“Well, it’s really none of your business who I’m friends with, is it?” I continue. “And it’s not really your place to
judge
them, since you don’t even
know
them. I mean, it’s not like you don’t have your own
friends
to keep you warm and busy.”

Oh, god! Oh, no! Did I say “warm”?

I’m back to looking at the table. “So, just handle your business and stay out of mine.”
Kind of harsh, but it should get the point across.

“You’re right. It’s not my concern,” he says, getting up. “And I’m sorry for any problems I might have caused you with your mom.
But, Rio, don’t think for a second I don’t know all about your friends.”

I can feel him looking at me, then he turns and walks away.

And after sitting there for a while, just breathing in and out and staring at the table, I grab my camera and tell Ms. Tate I’m going to do some outdoor photographs. She gives me a hall pass and I don’t return until after the bell rings.

After school Kristi, Kayla, and Jen Jen come home with me and we go into the kitchen, where my mom is waiting at the brand-new intricately carved table that came all the way from Far East Asia just to live in our house. She’s set out a big pitcher of iced tea and a bowl of weird-looking fruit that may or may not be edible, but it blends in perfectly with her Thai kitchen theme, and that’s all that really matters. And all of this is taking place so we can sit around, chug iced tea, and hammer out the final details of my stupid, fucking party.

“What’d you think of the invites?” my mom asks excitedly as I walk into the kitchen.

“Well, I kind of wish you’d asked me first,” I say, dropping my bag on the counter.

“I wanted to surprise you! I found that painting in your room and thought it would be perfect! Who painted that by the way?”

She doesn’t know?

I just assumed she did since Kristi did. But I just look at her carefully and say, “Um, someone from my art class.” Then I avoid Kristi’s eyes, even though I can feel them burning into me. “They did it for a project and then they gave it to me,” I lie.

“Well, I hope they don’t mind, but it was just too good to pass up!”

I just shrug. Then I sit there slumped at the table for like the next hour watching my mom and my friends debate important issues like catering (not like they eat), and a band vs. a DJ vs. CD’s. And I know I should be grateful and excited that they all want to do this for me, but I can’t stop thinking about that horrible fight with Jas, and the way he sounded light before he walked away.

There was something so final about it.

When they finally leave (with all the big decisions having been made with absolutely no input from me), I go upstairs to my room and on my desk I find a big square envelope with a New York stamp. I open it excitedly, wondering if it’s from Paige or Hud, and when I read the cover I realize it’s from both.

They sent one of those cards that you find in the “from all of us” section at the Hallmark store and they each wrote a little note in it and enclosed a picture. At first when I look at the picture I just think, “Oh, that’s cute.” Then I set it down and start to reread the card.

But then it hits me.

So I pick it up again. They’re at Winter Formal. Which is really no big deal because if they wanted to go then of course they would go with each other, being best friends and all. But there’s something about the way Hud is holding Paige, and something about the way Paige is leaning into Hud, that makes me feel really angry because it looks like they’re a couple.
And how can they be a couple when we’re all supposed to be JUST FRIENDS?
I mean, how long has this been going on? Were they just waiting for me to leave so they could hook up?