by Coco Simon
“Of course, you’d need permission from anyone you decided to sketch—especially with the realism of your sketches.
“But I think it would be fun and interesting to show a student’s view of the school, and maybe we could expand it to include photographs as well—from you and from other students. But I’d like you to head up this visual component of the website and be in charge of it. It might mean staying after school a few days a week to do it justice.”
I was floored by Mr. Franklin’s offer, which was a perfect solution to a number of problems.
Seeing that I only got called into the Park as a flyer every once in a while, I had been wanting to do something after school that was more productive than sitting around waiting for some clueless boy to get back to me. Besides, I was waiting around aimlessly after school for Mom for up to an hour these days anyhow.
Now I would be able to fill that time doing something worthwhile.
“Mr. Franklin, I would love that!” I said.
I thought about it some more, and then suddenly, I had a great idea.
“My friend Michelle is a really great photographer. She also would have a lot to contribute,” I told him.
“Yes! I’m familiar with her work,” Mr. Franklin said, smiling.
I beamed back.
“Let’s loop her in, and you can curate this together with her, if you want,” he continued. “Let me talk to our website designer, and we can start moving on this right away. I think this will be a very nice endeavor for you, Casey.”
He paused before adding, “And it’s never too early to start thinking about college. I’m sure people will be impressed when they see you had your artwork featured on a website at such an early age.”
I might not have been jumping up and down, but I was so thrilled, like, surprise-birthday-party thrilled.
This would be a great way to show everyone that art was around us, all the time. That artwork was important and should be appreciated.
I couldn’t wait to tell everyone the great news.
Chapter Eleven In Our Feelings
That evening Dad and Gabby teamed up on the cooking, which always led to a delightful meal.
Sometimes Dad came home a little later from work than usual, so he would ask someone here at home to start the process of preparing dinner, like chopping up vegetables.
That was fine by me. I was happy to contribute in a small way because I can’t cook to save my life. My dad teases me that I can’t even boil water for a cup of tea. I find it hard to concentrate on measuring ingredients, or timing a recipe.
But Gabby was no sous chef. Whenever she started dinner, she would end up putting her own spin on Dad’s original idea.
Dad’s Southern roots make him a hopeless BBQ romantic, and Gabby loves Asian cuisine, so… steamed shrimp wontons and Hunan barbecue chicken were on tonight’s menu.
I mean, with a whole house smelling this good, no one had to call me downstairs for dinner. I was already in the kitchen hovering over wontons by the time dinner was served.
“Another patient came into the emergency room last night after being hit by a car.” Dad sighed.
He shook his head as he carefully spooned some coconut-baked candied yams onto his plate.
The creases in his forehead were way pronounced. From being on call at the emergency room for so many years, Dad’s seen it all, but he never stops caring about each and every patient.
“Another one?” Gabby said. “Why are so many people being hit by cars these days?”
“There are more geniuses on the road who think it’s a good idea to drive while texting,” Dad answered.
Mom added, “Girls, take this as a reminder to never cross a street right after the walk signal comes on. Always wait a few seconds and look both ways before crossing.”
“It happens all the time. A split second could cost you a leg or your life,” Dad said. “Last night’s Jane Doe came to us in such a state of shock she didn’t realize how badly the car had damaged her until she looked down at her leg and saw that her bone was exposed—”
“Dad!” Gabby shouted, looking down at her drumstick.
Usually, I was right there along with Gabby shutting Dad down, but this time I kept quiet.
Something was different this time. I was different. Instead, I was creating a mental picture of my dad in this moment that happened so often at our dinner table, and I noticed something new.
A crumpled expression that I’d never seen before rippled over my dad’s face. In that millisecond, Dad looked similar to how I felt after being totally misunderstood by the people closest to me. My mind started racing.
What if my dad, the town doctor, also felt like a total reject… at his own dinner table (which he built, by the way)?
What if coming home from work, for him, was like coming home from summer camp for me?
How did it feel to be the town hero coming home to your kids, who didn’t want to hear the gory details of your lifesaving days in the ER?
I guess I hadn’t been fair to my father, either.
“Excuse me?” Dad said coolly. “What happens during my day should also have a seat at this table.”
Gabby and I looked at each other with wide eyes and closed mouths.
Whoa. I’m now convinced that we are all in our feelings!
I spoke up.
“Dad’s right. Five minutes of Dad’s day is way more important and exciting than both of our school weeks combined,” I said, reasoning with Gabby. “I should be able to forget my silly sensitive stomach for a few minutes of dirty details at dinner.”
With that, I popped a wonton into my mouth and started chewing.
Gabby nodded, agreeing.
“So what did you do with the exposed fracture?” she asked Dad.
I tried to compose myself as Dad went on to unfold the whole gory scene in great detail.
“So how was your day, Casey?” Gabby asked, smoothly changing the subject the instant Dad seemed to have gotten it out of his system.
“Mine was great!”
I told them about my exciting conversation with Mr. Franklin.
“That sounds wonderful, Casey,” Dad said, glancing at Mom and tossing her a wink.
“Congratulations!” Mom added. “Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself at Bellgrove. Get ready, because people are going to start commissioning you with candy bars to feature them in your drawings!”
We all laughed.
“They better come with more than just candy bars,” I joked. “My services aren’t cheap.”
We laughed some more.
“Look who’s feeling herself… Ms. Artsy,” Gabby teased me, with a slight shove.
“Casey, would you like to show us some of your artwork sometime?” Mom asked.
“Woo-hoo! Art showing!” said Gabby.
“I’d love to.”
I beamed. I couldn’t wait to show them my newest sketches, all created from memory.
“I don’t mean to put a damper on things, but your story could explain why Lindsay was looking so glum in the lunchroom today,” Mom said. “Have you two gotten a chance to talk since last Monday’s BFF drama?”
That grabbed Gabby’s attention, and her eyes went wide.
“Who has drama? Lindsay and Casey?” she asked Mom. She shot me a curious look and waited for an answer.
I sighed, pushing the food around on my plate before I said, “We haven’t talked yet.” I felt a bit ashamed to admit it.
Mom did have a point, though. No wonder I was getting only one-word answers from Lindsay. I’d gotten so involved with my latest drawing that I totally fell off the map with little explanation. Lindsay must have been feeling confused.
I would definitely be salty if she did the same thing, especially with how different our friendship was feeling since middle school started. Heck, we couldn’t even swap sandwiches anymore thanks to the school rules!
“Sounds like you might want to remedy that soon,” Dad suggested.
My parents shot each other that telepathic glance Gabby and I knew all too well.
“Sounds like a terrific plan,” Mom said.
Chapter Twelve The Two Artists
That night after dinner, I texted Lindsay.
BFF hang after school tmrw?
My heart was beating quickly… like every time I ever texted Matt.
What if she was already too mad and totally rejected me?
A minute later, Lindsay texted back.
Sure.
I smiled. Finally, a one-word response that was music to my ears.
The next day I asked Lindsay to meet up with me after school in the art room before walking over to my mom’s office together.
Mr. Franklin agreed to make himself disappear, so we had the room to ourselves for at least half an hour.
Even though this had been Mrs. Cooper’s room for so long, Mr. Franklin had done a good job of making the classroom his own universe. Just the vintage Woodstock posters alone are enough to transport you into a different decade each time you walk in here.
Everywhere else you look is student art galore. Mr. Franklin is a total enthusiast about displaying student art in the freshest ways possible, even hanging pieces from the ceiling to catch the eye.
Mrs. Cooper’s palette would be there forever, but it was cool to see the art constantly changing.
We entered the room and stopped just short of Lindsay’s mom’s floating paint palette and stared up at it.
“You know what will be the hardest part about leaving Bellgrove?” Lindsay asked.
It’s no secret that she feels stifled by small-town life and has always had her sights set on bigger, faster places where no one would know her life story. Where she could just melt into any crowd.
“You’ll feel like you’re leaving her behind?” I guessed.
“That’s why you’re my BFF,” said Lindsay.
She squeezed my hand.
It was good to know that even after weeks of weirdness, there were some things Lindsay didn’t have to explain to me.
Now I had some explaining to do. I could feel the usual traffic jam of words in my throat begin to form, so I took some deep breaths and felt the congestion clear.
“Listen, I know I haven’t been the best BFF lately,” I said.
Lindsay’s eyes widened.
“OMG. I haven’t been the best BFF either!” she exclaimed.
“Okay, who wants to go first?” I chuckled.
Clearly we both had some explaining to do.
Lindsay raised her hand.
“This summer, I was actually secretly jealous for the first time when you went to sleepaway camp and I had to stay in Bellgrove,” she said. “Then you came back like this whole new person, with lip gloss and a boyfriend and talking differently and acting more like my own mom than… well… me! I was also surprised by how good your drawing was. I didn’t even know you liked to draw!”
“That’s my fault,” I said. “Your mom’s been my inspiration for as long as I can remember. When we were little, I used to watch her sketch you and Sky. I think she even made a sketch of me once. It was mesmerizing to watch her blank sketchbook fill with captured moments in just a few pencil strokes. I used to leave your house wishing my mom had a superpower like yours did.
“The older I got, the more I wanted to be just like her. I was seven when I started drawing, but I thought my sketches were too horrible to show. I didn’t show my sketchbook to anyone until summer camp this year.”
“Lemme guess… Matt?” Lindsay said.
“Like I said, I haven’t been the greatest BFF.” I smiled sadly.
I then explained to Lindsay how Matt and I ended up swapping notebooks for a whole minute just because we were curious about each other.
“For being such a cutie, he had sort of ugly handwriting.” I laughed.
“I’m sure he wasn’t ready for how amazing your drawings are,” Lindsay said softly.
“Thanks for saying that. He kinda wasn’t!” I agreed.
“Well, he sounds as dreamy as he looks,” Lindsay said. “I’m happy for you.”
She smiled.
“It was fun while it lasted. He completely fell off the map. Oh well.” I shrugged before I added, “I was really sad at first, but now I’m just a little sad. Hopefully soon, I won’t be sad about it at all. It’s good to be busy with other things, anyhow.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Lindsay, looking around Mr. Franklin’s room. “You sure have been spending a lot of time in here. What have you been up to?”
I told her about Mr. Franklin’s idea to curate “A View from Bellgrove” using my drawings and photographs from other students.
“Casey, that’s fantastic!”
Lindsay’s eyes lit up, and I could tell that she was genuinely happy for me.
“This gives me an actual reason to visit the school website. You might need to give it a cooler title than that, though,” she said.
“You might be right about that,” I said thoughtfully, wondering what other title would be more ear-catching.
I told Lindsay that I’d been busy working on the first sketch for the series.
“I’d like to publish my first piece with your permission,” I said.
“My permission?” Lindsay was clearly surprised.
She followed me to the annex room, where Mr. Franklin stored student works.
I found my large folder and pulled out a finished portrait, the one I’ve been obsessing over for the past week. I put it in Lindsay’s hands.
She gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.
“I know I’ve been MIA lately, but I wanted this drawing to be just perfect, to come out exactly as I saw it in my mind,” I said. “It’s not perfect, but I hope it’s good enough. Do you like it?”
I was a little nervous while I waited for her answer.
Lindsay’s eyes welled up as she stared at my sketch of her mom, who was smiling directly at us from the other side of life, wearing angel’s wings.
“Casey, it’s…” Lindsay was choked up. “My favorite drawing ever. It looks realer than any photograph I’ve ever seen of her. I love it. My family would love to have Mom honored in this way. I’m officially obsessed with your talent!”
“I’ve been practicing drawing from memory, and this is how I see her… behind my eyes,” I explained.
“Is this what I think it is?” Lindsay said.
She grinned as she ran her finger over the halo I’d sketched above her mom’s head.
“A donut halo, Case?”
We laughed our butts off.
“Sorry, I was hungry and couldn’t resist,” I giggled. “Now the title should make sense.”
“ ‘A Donut for Your Thoughts,’ ” Lindsay read the title at the bottom of the sketch.
We laughed a heap more.
“Perfect,” she said.
“I try,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Now I feel stupid for being so jealous,” Lindsay said. “It’s just that I wished my mom’s artiness had rubbed off on me, too. She taught me to appreciate art, but I’m pretty sure I’m not an artist. I’ll never be as good as my mom.”
“I don’t think anyone’s expecting you to be,” I said, trying to comfort her.
“Wrong about that!” Lindsay said. “Since I started drawing stick figures, people have asked me if I’m going to be an artist like her. Whenever I say my last name, people assume I’m going to be a great artist. Then… they quickly see how wrong they are. I feel like I’m letting everyone down when I don’t churn out some amazing drawing… including my mom.”
“Wow, Lindsay, I had no idea.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. I guess that goes to show that even though we’ve been BFFs since day one, literally, there were always things to learn about each other.
Maybe this was what my dad meant when he said that he would
never understand my mom completely, even after all their years of marriage.
Mr. Franklin strolled into the art room.
“How are you two doing?” he asked, with a wink.
“Good,” Lindsay and I said at the same time.
We looked at each other and started cracking up. Because we were.
“I’m glad I have you here, Lindsay, because I want to ask you something,” Mr. Franklin said.
He joined us in the annex room, pulled some work out of one of the large student folders, and came over.
When she saw what he was holding, Lindsay covered her eyes and her face turned bright red.
“Your continuous line drawing this week was one of the best in your class,” Mr. Franklin said, holding up a drawing she’d made of her art partner. “Look at how smooth and effortless your line is. Excellent eye-hand coordination.”
Continuous line drawings are not my favorite; I have serious problems drawing someone’s face in one continuous line without being able to pick up my pencil. Mine come out all shaky.
But Lindsay had done a great job. I could recognize our friend Michelle’s face in her drawing, clear as day.
“Thanks, Mr. Franklin.” Lindsay beamed with pride.
“I wanted to ask you if I can hang this up. I already have an idea for what kind of frame I want to use to make it pop,” said Mr. Franklin. “Do I have your permission to do so?”
“Well, I’ll have to think about it,” Lindsay said, twirling a lock of her hair and looking up. “Okay! Yes!”
We all laughed at her terrible acting skills.
I nudged her with my elbow. “So, as you were saying?”
Grinning, Lindsay turned and hugged me.
“Okay, I guess it’s still possible that I can be an artist.”
Chapter Thirteen Two of a Kind
Later, Mom dropped us off at the Park to continue our BFF date. Everything was arranged for me to get a ride home from the Coopers after dinner.