Formerly Shark Girl (31 page)

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Authors: Kelly Bingham

BOOK: Formerly Shark Girl
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He picks one up and studies it carefully.

“I’m glad,” he tells me.

“I didn’t want you to go far away.”

Watching him,

I think how lucky I am,

how big the world is,

the excitement welling up inside me.

In fact, I am happier than I have been

in a good, solid year.

Going to art school? To draw and paint

and learn about art,
all day
?

I can’t
wait.

“Are
you
glad you’re staying here?”

Justin asks, tapping the egg timidly

against the bowl.

The yellow insides spill out

into the batter, along with some shell.

We pick out bits of hard white.

“I’m
really
glad, Justin,” I say.

“It would have been hard to leave

everyone I love too far behind.”

And it would. Mom and Michael.

Justin. Mabel.

And Max. Let’s not forget Max.

Justin looks at me,

those blue eyes taking everything in,

so direct and honest that it takes my breath away.

“When you finish art school,

what will you be? A mural painter?”

I put my arm around him

and squeeze his shoulders.

“I’m going to be an art teacher.”

Just saying the words out loud

spreads a thrill throughout my body.

It’s a choice that settled on me

at some point,

light as a butterfly,

and just as perfect.

How could I have not seen it before?

I feel like
this

is what was meant to be.

For me.

Justin lights up.

“You’ll be so
good
at that!”

He thinks a minute. Then:

“Can we paint another mural in my room

this summer? On the wall with the window?

Please?”

I laugh. “We’ll ask your parents.

If they say yes, then you bet.”

Taking his hand once more,

I help Justin find the right spot

on the edge of the bowl.

This time,

the egg

breaks cleanly.

1. Apply to nursing school and art college.

2. Choose one or the other.

3. Become fully certified in CPR, first aid, and triage.

4. Enter the school art competition.

5. Win the school art competition.
(Well, I tried.)

6. Qualify for and enter the West Coast Wings art competition.
(You win some, you lose some.)

7. Win the West Coast Wings art competition.
(Not meant to be. Turns out there were other things to reach for this year.)

8. Go to prom.

9. Bake a wedding cake.
(Not yet, and that’s fine with me. But you never know . . .)

10. Save a life.

Cross it off my bucket list.

Not because some poor soul

choked on a hamburger

and needed the Heimlich maneuver.

Not because a bomb went off

and people were blown to bits.

(Thank goodness.)

Not because someone needed CPR,

a toe tag, or even a helping hand.

But because.

Because I made the right choice.

I know it, every single moment I am awake

(and I think even when I’m sleeping)

because

every molecule in my body
sings

with the excitement, the pure unfettered

JOY

of a
lifetime

with a paintbrush

in my hand.

One hand.

That’s all I have.

But that’s all I need.

And while it would have been

fine to become a nurse,

I believe, deep in my deepest heart,

that days would have rolled by

where I deeply regretted

parting ways with my dreams.

Sure, I may have to wait tables

or file papers or answer phones

to make ends meet until I get

my education done and find a good job.

But that’s okay. It’s
my
life,

and I can do what I want.

And in choosing the route

that I feel I was always —

well —

meant

to follow?

I saved a life.

And that life

is mine.

Pumpkins. That’s what we resemble —

pumpkins, in our orange graduation robes.

“This color makes me look so
fat,

Angie says, straightening her cap.

“Why can’t our school have decent colors?”

“You’re not fat,” Michael says, dressed in shirt and tie.

“You’re glowing. Like a nuclear pumpkin.

Very attractive, really.”

“Michael!” Angie shrieks, faking distress.

Her father raises a camera. “Come on, everyone.”

He flaps his hand at us. “Scooch together!”

We scooch, giggling as the tassels from our caps

tickle our cheeks. Mom has her camera, too.

Everyone
does, and as we wrap our arms

around one another,

each camera is lifted at the same moment.

“Smile!” Elizabeth’s mother says.

Today, no one needs to tell us that.

A million clicks and whizzes fill the air.

“Students, please make your way to the gymnasium,”

Principal Marks announces over the loudspeaker.

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