Call Me Grim

Elizabeth Holloway

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright © 2014 by Elizabeth Holloway

Call Me Grim by Elizabeth Holloway

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Published by Month9Books

Cover designed by Divine Michelle

Cover Copyright © 2014 Month9Books

For Hana and Caleb.

Reach for the stars. Let no one tell you your dreams are too lofty, or not worth the trouble.

Elizabeth Holloway

I tap my fingers on my crossed arms and peer through the tinted front window of Carroll Falls High. At the top of the hill, a stripe of maroon paint flashes between the trees. I straighten up, hitching my purse over my shoulder. The car pulls into the school’s parking lot, and I slump again. It’s not Mom’s Honda. It’s just some old dude in a Camry.

Mom is ten minutes late to the art show, though I’m not surprised. She warned me. She tried to get out of working at the restaurant tonight, but her boss is an uncultured douchebag who doesn’t understand how big of a deal this is for me.

“How long before we go in? I’m bored.” Max’s thumbs fly over the buttons of his handheld videogame. The cuffs of his dress shirt slip down over his hands. He lifts his arms and shakes the sleeves back while he continues his assault on the control buttons.

“I don’t know.” I tug on the collar of my blouse for what seems like the hundredth time and check to make sure my cleavage isn’t trying to steal my thunder. “Whenever Mom gets here, I guess.”

“That could be hours.” Max sighs dramatically and leans against the wall beside me. “She said if she was late to go in without her.”

“I know.” I glance at the clock on the wall above Max’s head. “But it’s only been ten minutes, and she’d want us to wait.”

That’s true. No matter what Mom said, she’d want us to wait for her. It’s not her fault her boss is a psycho control freak. But I don’t think I can wait much longer to find out if I’ve placed in this year’s show. My heart might explode from anticipation.

I dig my phone out of my purse and flip it open. I would know if she texted me, my phone would have chimed and vibrated, but I check it anyway. Nothing.

Five more minutes. She has five minutes, then we’re going in without her.

“Libbi!”

I tear my eyes from the steady stream of traffic at the top of the hill in front of the school and scan the sea of uncomfortably dressed people crowding the hallway. Haley’s blond head bounces between the shoulders of two senior boys.

“Excuse me.” She pushes one of the boys out of her way and ignores his indignant protest. “Libs!” She waves and almost walks right into the refreshments table. She skirts it with a grace only Haley Dennis could master, like a near collision with the table was something she meant to do.

“Hey, Haley,” I say when she’s close enough I don’t have to shout. “Where’s Kyle?”

“He’s looking for you, silly.” She grins, and her dark eyes sparkle with excitement. She knows something. Something really freaking good. “So…have you seen your display?”

My heart jumps up to high-five my teeth.

“Not yet,” I say. It’s hard to talk around the thumping in my throat.

“Oh my God, Libs. What are you waiting for?” She grabs my hand and yanks me from the window. “Come on!”

“Finally,” Max mutters as he follows me and Haley through the crowd.

Haley’s polka-dotted dress sways as she leads me down the hall to the gym. I’m sure Mom wanted us to wait, but I don’t think I could if I tried. Haley has me in a death grip. Plus, I really don’t want to wait anymore. Not after I saw that look on Haley’s face. I have to know why she’s grinning like the Joker as she practically drags me through the aisles of student artwork.

We round one last corner, and I yelp. Out loud. I smack my hand over my mouth as my eyes adjust to the bright blue of the ribbon hanging from my painting.
My
painting. Written in white calligraphy on the ribbon’s center are the words “First Place.”

A squeal builds inside me, and it takes all of my strength to keep it from squeezing out. I can’t believe it. I not only placed, I first-placed.

As part of a program to promote the study of fine art in schools, the Philadelphia Museum of Art holds an annual show of work by students of Pennsylvania public schools. After applying for consideration every year for five years, Carroll Falls High School finally got the chance to host it. But the museum doesn’t accept any old kid’s work to display in their show. They want talent. I was one of only three from my school who they accepted.

And tonight, a representative from the freaking Philadelphia Museum of Art came and gave my painting first place. An actual art professional likes my work. If I wasn’t so worried my boobs might spill out of my blouse, I’d jump up and down like the dork that I am.

“Congrats, Libs.” Max sounds genuinely excited. Well, as excited as an eight-year-old kid forced to come to his big sister’s art show can sound.

“See? I told you you’d place.” Haley hooks her arm around my elbow. “You should never doubt me. I know all.”

“I can’t believe this.” I run a shaky finger down the length of the blue ribbon. Yup. It’s really there. “Where’s that Philly art guy? I think I want to tackle hug him.”

“Wait. What about me?” Kyle says behind me. “Without me, you wouldn’t have that painting.”

I turn and meet Kyle’s smiling brown eyes. Considering Haley and Kyle are only fraternal twins, it’s amazing how much they look alike, especially when they smile.

“I guess I owe you one too,” I say as Kyle pulls me into one of his suffocating bear hugs. “Thanks for looking so damned awesome.”

“Anytime.” Kyle pats my back and lets me go. “What are friends for?”

My eyes drift over to my winning painting. It started off as a picture I took with my cellphone. Kyle had been upset at school that day, and I came over to the house to see if I could cheer him up. As expected, I found him in his garage beating the hell out of his drums.

He played so furiously he didn’t hear me come in. After a few minutes, he stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and his arms glistened. Anger, hurt, defeat pulled at the tense angles of his face and his shoulders sagged.

I snapped the picture.

He never told me why he was so ticked off that day, but he liked the picture. He said it made him look like a badass, though I saw something different. To me, he looked broken. But he asked me to paint it for him anyway, as a gift. And I did.

***

The art show is supposed to last two hours, but by the one-hour mark the gym is pretty much empty.

Max ran off with a friend from school a while ago. The last I saw them they were sitting on the bleachers, heads together, with Max’s videogame between them. Kyle and Haley left about five minutes ago. Kyle had to stop by his bandmate’s house to drop off some equipment, and Haley insisted on hitting the books one last time.

“I can’t get into Harvard if I don’t study,” she said, but I doubt one more night of studying will make a difference. Haley will ace that history final. She always does. I, on the other hand, need to cram. I actually studied for this exam—for once—but my brain is like a sieve when it comes to dates, and I could use a last minute refresher. But instead of heading home to turn my gray matter into historical mush, I wander up and down the aisles of student artwork and wait for Mom.

The restaurant must be slammed tonight. She’s been late to events before—ten minutes here, twenty minutes there—but usually not a whole hour. Maybe I missed her and she’s already here. Maybe she’s waiting for me at my winning painting.

I find my way back to my work, hopeful that my hunch is right. I really do need to get home and study.

A boy I don’t recognize stands at the opposite end of the aisle. He meets my eyes for a moment and smiles, then he crosses his arms over his chest and studies the still-life drawing in front of him. Other than him, the row is deserted. Mom still hasn’t made it.

I touch my blue ribbon again, letting my fingers trail over the letters. First place. A thrill shoots through me. I can’t wait for Mom to see it. She’s going to be so proud of me, she might even cry.

The air around me changes, and the shiver of excitement shifts to a shiver of dread.

Someone is watching me.

I glance to the end of the aisle where that guy stood a few seconds ago, but he’s not there. He must have moved to another aisle. I’m alone.