Draw the Line

by Laurent Linn

  I laugh and lean back in the chair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Excellent.”

  He sounds so clear, so like the old Kobe. Maybe he’s cut down on the pills? Or maybe he doesn’t need them so much?

  “Speaking of dreamy Oasis,” he says, “I’ve been hearing rumors about you two from an unnamed source, by which I mean Carmen. What’s the deal?”

  Wow, guess Lev and I have been more obvious than I thought.

  Since I barely have anyone to talk to about this, I go ahead and tell Kobe about our date at the center. “Oh! By the way, I met LaTrina.”

  “Yes, I heard, from another unnamed source that you just named, otherwise known as David, out of drag. He stopped by this week, unannounced. You gotta stop sending people to my house!”

  I spin back and forth in my chair. “I’m glad she—I mean he—came by.”

  Where’s that bracelet LaTrina gave me? Oh, here, looped around my drawing lamp. I slip the bracelet on my wrist.

  I tell Kobe about Lev planning for the Halloween Hoedown. Kobe asks if I’m going and I say yes.

  “Good. You should,” he says. “I had my whole costume planned and everything. I was gonna rock that thing.”

  “What’s your costume?”

  He grunts. “Who cares now? I still look like crap and, oh by the way, ain’t never stepping foot in that school again.”

  “Don’t you feel any better?”

  He goes through a long explanation of his healing over the week and a half since I saw him. Sounds much better, actually, for such a short time.

  While he’s talking, I stand and stretch, walk to the window, and gaze out.

  “So, listen,” he says. “I know you’re gonna make Kerosene super-hot and all, but I wanted to say . . . otherwise, those scenes are just right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Now that you’re pointing neon signs at your website—yes, I heard about that, too—your art of Doug beating the crap out of me is getting attention. I’ve heard from all sorts of people, even a couple teachers, believe it or not.”

  “Um, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  His voice is soft. “It’s good.”

  “I’m glad.”

  After we finish talking and hang up, I go to my drawing table, shuffle through the folder I took to the center yesterday, and find a portrait pose of Graphite. It’s one of him in full glory, floating weightless, fabric flowing. I pin it to my bulletin board right in the center.

  “You know, Graphite, Kobe’s right. . . . You are a stud.”

  In class this morning everyone’s got their I-hate-Monday faces on, but in his seat behind me, Lev’s perky and awake. Buzzing with Halloween excitement, he says. He called last night and we agreed to meet before class, so I got to hear all about his ongoing Halloween decorations and he got to hear all about what Clare said to me.

  He was very cute, apologizing over and over, and so excited for me. I forgave him. It’s hard to stay mad, looking in those eyes of his . . . and at the rest of him.

  After class, Madame Pauline asks me to stay for a minute. Lev has to dash, so he takes off. I go over to Madame Pauline.

  Staying in her seat, she motions for me to come around the desk and speaks in a low voice. “I heard about your online artwork, so I checked it out.”

  Oh, crap. “I can explain—”

  “Hold on a minute, let me finish.”

  I swallow.

  “You’re a very talented artist. I’m not going to discuss the content of your art right now, but I would like to hear what you have to say about it. Maybe stop by one day after school?”

  “Okay.”

  “In the meantime, I want to give you a commission.” She smiles. “I’d very much like to see what kind of superhero you’d make of me.”

  I blink. “Are you . . . ? You want me to draw you as a superhero?”

  She nods. “Does that interest you?”

  “Well, uh, sure. It’s funny, you’re not the first person to ask me that.”

  “And I bet I won’t be the last.” As a couple kids come in for the next class, she stands. “You certainly don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. But think on it and, if so, let me know what you charge.”

  Holy wow. “I’ll let you know soon, okay?”

  Big grin. “Tray bee-yayn.”

  I head out. Yay, more moneymaking opportunities! New cell phone, here I come.

  This is crazy.

  I hurry down the hall and turn the corner—there’s Manuel Calderón.

  I walk right up to him. “Hey.”

  He stops and eyes the busy hallway around us. “Yeah, I’m in a rush, okay?”

  “No,” I say. “We gotta talk. Now.”

  He checks over his shoulder.

  I motion for us to step to the side, away from people. We go to the wall.

  “So, come on, what’s the deal?” I say. “Really.”

  “Listen, I don’t know you and all, but . . .” He shrugs.

  I brace myself. “Yeah?”

  “Your friend Audrey. She, like, hates me, right?”

  “Huh?”

  He shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “Okay, so I think she’s hot. And funny and, like, so smart. But she just ignores me. Or worse.” He looks at the floor.

  I blink, then stare at him. “Waitwaitwait, are you saying you like her?”

  “Crap, I knew it. She’s got a boyfriend. It’s not that goth kid, is it?”

  I lean against the wall, take this in. “Goth kid . . . Trent?” I smile. “God, no! We’re all just friends. But if you like Audrey, why have you been so freaky around me?”

  “Well, I didn’t wanna ask the goth dude. And since you’re, like, a gay guy—no offense, bro!” His face turns red. “But I was thinking maybe, ya know, you could put in a good word for me?”

  Oh. My. God. This is too awesome.

  He’s cute, has a wrestler’s body, and is adorably awkward. “Sure, I’ll talk you up with her.”

  “You will? Great. But don’t be, like, obvious or anything, okay?”

  “No, not at all. I’ll be subtle.”

  He lets out a long breath. “Thanks, bro.” He holds up his palm, so I give him a high five. He practically slaps the bones out of my hand.

  Ow.

  Turning, he says, “Oh, I saw your website. Weird, but some funny stuff!”

  He thinks it’s funny?

  Checking over his shoulder, he says, “And hey, I get why you made Doug like that after what he did to your friend. And Bootlicker?” He grins. “That’s good. Buddy really is a dick, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “A dick without a dick.”

  He snorts.

  Look at me, using straight boy humor.

  His face gets serious. “Audrey. Don’t forget. We’re cool, right?”

  “Don’t worry, bro,” I say in a low voice, “I’ll talk with her and be, like, all over the downlow. ’S all good. Dude.”

  He looks at me funny but nods and we go our separate ways.

  Holy fluffy pancakes from heaven. Wait till Audrey hears about this!

  “Ugh, where is she?” I stare at the cafeteria wall clock. Lunch started five minutes ago.

  Sitting next to me, Trent ponders his tray of two bowls of spaghetti, deciding which one to devour first. “Why’re you so hyped up for Audrey to get here?”

  I smile. “You’ll see.”

  I arrived early and got all set with my lunch and with my back to the wall. This way she’ll have to sit facing me while I have a clear view of Manuel at his table. He’s there now with his usual buddies, glancing my way from time to time, avoiding eye contact with me.

  I take a bite of peanut butter and blueberry jelly and spot Audrey in the lunch line. At last, with a big salad and a latte on her tray, she comes over and sits down.

  “There you are,” I say. “What took you so long today?”

  She points to her face. “You think this much beauty mainta
ins itself? Why?” She starts in on her salad.

  His silver-and-black goth rings glinting, Trent lifts a fork twirled with spaghetti, trying to find the end of one long noodle. “Okay, Graphite Boy, what’s the big news?”

  I check and Manuel is eyeing us from across the cafeteria.

  Trying not to smile so big, I say, “I found out why Manuel Calderón has been weird with me. I cornered him in the hall.”

  Audrey smirks. “Well, we know he wasn’t writing those notes to you, just like I told you all along.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, he’s not the note writer. But . . .” I lean in. “Audrey, Manuel thinks you’re hot!”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Say what?”

  “Hot and funny and smart.” I tell them all about what he said to me. “See, like I keep repeating, you are sultry! Here’s proof.”

  She crosses her arms. “You’re makin’ this up.” She turns around to scan for Manuel.

  I sit up straight. “No, don’t look don’t look don’t look! He’s staring over here.”

  She faces me, eyes wide. “This for real?”

  “Yes, but I said I’d be subtle and not tell you, like, everything I just told you. So act casual.”

  “Oh, who cares?” She scowls. “In AP history he’s always going on about himself, thinks he’s so smart, so funny. He’s a jerk.”

  “A cute jerk,” I say. “And maybe it’s just that he’s nervous and trying to impress you? He was so adorable and awkward, the way he talked about liking you.”

  Trent wiggles his eyebrows at Audrey. “And he’s a wrestler. Just think about that.”

  She points at him. “Do not go there.”

  I smile. “Nothin’ like a man in a singlet.”

  She grunts. “Sultry, huh?” Turning in her seat, she spots Manuel across the cafeteria. He notices and they lock eyes for a split second.

  She spins back around. “Lordy.”

  “Oh, another point in Manuel’s favor,” I say. “He saw my site and gets why I drew Doug like Thug after what he did to Kobe. No, really, he said that. And he thinks Bootlicker is funny and said Buddy’s a dick.”

  Trent slurps down a few noodles. “I like this guy.”

  Using her phone like a mirror, Audrey reapplies her lipstick. “We’ll see.”

  Bell rings and we move out, Audrey making sure Manuel leaves before she does.

  I can’t wait to hear what happens in her AP history today.

  I fly through the halls and swing by my locker—oh, boy. A note.

  Wait, the handwriting is different. It’s from Lev!

  I unfold the paper. There’s a golden-yellow leaf taped inside.

  Hi! I went by the library to visit your old friend Roald Dahl yesterday. He misses you.

  So do I.

  —L

  My blood gets all tingly in my veins. Wow.

  I reread it, then carefully fold the note and slip it into my front pocket.

  Beaming, I get my chemistry homework and shut my locker. Then I go to cut through the courtyard.

  I follow a couple girls out the door into the chilly air.

  Oh—Doug and Buddy are right here, sitting at the top of the steps to my right. Buddy leans against a trash can.

  Keeping my head down, I move past them, close enough to hear Doug say, “I told you, I ain’t going.”

  Buddy makes a face. “C’mon, we could just be bloody zombies like the other guys or some shit. It’s all about what the girls wear, anyway. Remember those ‘nurses’ last year?” With a fist, he pops the side of the trash can.

  I jump. He notices. I’m just a few feet away at the bottom of the steps. The girls keep walking, oblivious.

  Buddy squints at me and spits out, “What’re you lookin’ at, faggot?”

  Doug turns, sees me.

  We eye each other for a second, and then he looks away.

  I keep going, but Buddy jumps up and leaps off the steps after me.

  I spin and grit my teeth. “Back off.”

  Doug stands and grabs his duffel bag. “C’mon, Bud.”

  Buddy looks up at Doug but points at me. “You’ve seen that shit this asshole did about you? And me?”

  Still at the top of the steps, Doug puts his hand on the door handle. “Move it. We’re gonna be late.”

  “No! Fag’s right here. What’s your deal?”

  Doug glances at me once more, then opens the door and goes inside.

  “What the . . . ?” Buddy turns and shoves me.

  “Hey!” I catch myself and jump away.

  He checks over his shoulder where Doug was, then looks right at me. “I told you, take that shit down.”

  I glare at him. “I’m not doing anything for you.”

  “Well, then maybe you’d do it to save your little boyfriend.”

  What?

  He smirks and storms off, toward the opposite door from where Doug went.

  Oh, no.

  I FIND LEV AT HIS locker after the next class, and even though Kathleen’s here too, I tell him what happened with Buddy and to be careful. He’s freaked.

  So am I.

  But there’s no way I’m taking down my comics.

  Kathleen puts her hand on my arm. “Maybe you should, though. Just the sections about those guys?”

  “No, I’m not going to censor myself.”

  Lev takes a couple books from his locker. “I don’t know. If it would keep them from—”

  “But it won’t,” I say. “Buddy’s an asshole and was way before I drew anything. Taking down a few comics from my website won’t stop him from being a dick.”

  “Yeah, but he just threatened me.” He shuts his locker.

  I look down. “That’s true.”

  Kathleen hugs her books to her chest.

  Dammit. Why did Doug just leave like that? Is that all he’s gonna do now, walk away? I guess it’s something, though. At least he didn’t join in.

  I sigh. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  We start down the hall and Lev hoists his backpack onto his shoulders. “I guess this week there’s not much chance of me running into Buddy after school. I’ve got Pep Club every day.”

  “Every day?” I say. “But I thought we’d hang out this week.”

  “Yeah,” Kathleen says, “me too.”

  “Guys! Our Pep Club has, like, so much to do before the Halloween Hoedown. We’re way behind.”

  “Speaking of Halloween . . .” I clear my throat. “I thought about it and, well, I want to go with you.”

  He squeezes my arm. “Excellent!” He starts planning how we’ll coordinate our costumes, insisting that I’m definitely much more of a Bert than an Ernie.

  I clear my throat. “Listen, please don’t get mad, but I have a different costume I want to wear.”

  He stops walking. “But why? What do you mean?”

  I turn to him and smile. “I’m going as Graphite.”

  “Oh.” He looks away. “When did you decide that?”

  “Kinda just after we talked on the phone. But you could still go as Ernie if Kathleen is Cookie Monster—that’d be fun.”

  Kathleen leans her head on Lev’s shoulder. “Well, like Adrian said, don’t get mad.” She lifts her head again. “But I actually don’t love the Cookie Monster idea. Sorry.”

  He groans. “But I . . . okay, fine, whatever.” He starts walking again, so we follow.

  Picking up his pace, he says, “This could be good, actually, since I don’t have time to make something new. I’ll wear what I bought before I had the Bert and Ernie idea.”

  The bell is about to ring, so we speed along.

  “What is it?” I say.

  “Since you and I won’t match, I’ll keep it a surprise.”

  Kathleen does a little hop. “Me too. There’s a costume I’ve wanted to make since last year.” She giggles.

  We turn to go our separate ways. “Hey,” I say, “it’ll be fun.”

  He gasps, eyes wide. “Crap! I was supposed to
buy more balloons.”

  Kathleen and I look at each other, and then I hoof it to class.

  The rest of the day I spend pondering my costume. Certain parts should be easy to make, but that sculpted mask knee armor . . . that’s tricky. And the flowing fabric?

  I get home and jump into sketching and plotting and planning the various elements of my transformation into Graphite. This is going to be harder than I thought. I need a lot of materials.

  When I message Audrey to see if she’ll drive me to buy everything, she says she can’t. Her mom’s cousin is getting married this Saturday, the same night as the Halloween Hoedown, and Audrey has to go shopping for a new dress.

  When I ask how it’s possible she, the Queen of Fashion herself, doesn’t already have a dress she could wear, I get a lecture in the variations of last fall’s necklines compared to this season’s.

  I make the mistake of asking if she could take me tomorrow after school and, oh, my god, “Then when exactly do you expect me to shop for the shoes?”

  So I wait up for Mom and, since she doesn’t work tomorrow night, she says she’ll take me. She gets excited and asks what my costume is going be. I say it’s a surprise and leave it at that.

  Guess this is the week I introduce them to Graphite. And with everyone else knowing about him now, why not?

  Tuesday morning whooshes by at school. I never thought I’d actually look forward to going to anything called a hoedown, much less wearing a costume, but I can’t wait to start making it.

  At lunch, as I approach our table, Trent’s already there and gives me a weird look.

  “What?” I ease into a chair and pull my lunch bag from my backpack.

  He leans in. “Overheard a couple kids in class say how some of the football guys started calling Buddy Bootlicker.”

  I smile. “Really?”

  “Wouldn’t be so happy if I were you. Seems he went ballistic.”

  I sit back in my chair. “Was Doug there?”

  He shrugs. “They didn’t mention him.”

  I sigh. “Well, even if I took that art down from my site, it’s too late now. Besides, it’s got everyone seeing what a dick he is.”

  “Yeah, and makes him want to annihilate you even more.”