Polly
Page 24
“This is impressive,” William said when he saw my painting of Mom. I had painted her from one of her wedding pictures with Dad, but I placed her alone in a Laundromat, clothes rotating in the washing machine beside her and a neon sign flickering out the window. She was dressed in the peasant dress she wore in the picture, and looked as young as I did now. It was how I imagined her when she was just starting out. “You’re going to be a real artist someday,” Mom said. “I’d like to keep this, so I can say I knew you when.”
“I’m still minoring in math, just in case,” I said.
I couldn’t go down to North Carolina for Dad’s wedding because it was the weekend before midterms, but I promised him I’d be down for Thanksgiving. Two weeks after the wedding I got pictures in the mail. They’d gotten married in the living room of Gwen’s house, surrounded by a few friends and what looked like Gwen’s parents. In his letter Dad said that afterward they grilled filet mignons and ate wedding cake that Gwen’s mother made. There was a picture of Dad and Gwen, holding up champagne glasses, their new gold wedding bands twinkling on their fingers. This time Dad had worn a suit and tie to get married, and Gwen had worn a long peach dress that looked good on her. On the back of the picture Dad had written, “I’m the one drinking sparkling apple cider.” I wondered how long he’d gone without drinking, and if it would last.
When I wanted to be by myself I went to the third floor of the library, where the agriculture books were. There were a couple of tables behind the shelves against the far wall, and there was rarely anybody there. This was where I went with my sketch pad, to work out what my next art project would be. I would think about what I really wanted to make, and how I could make it fit into my next assignment.
Sometimes there was a boy there. He was tall, with long, thick, dark hair. He almost looked Native American, except his skin was pale and his eyes were dark blue. He had a big nose and curled his small mouth into a slight smile while he studied. I sketched him and shaded over it before he could walk by and see.
He wore jeans and Doc Martens and T-shirts with the names of bands I liked. As it got colder he added a flannel shirt and then a black bomber jacket. There was something serene about his face when he concentrated. I found myself waiting for him when he wasn’t there.
I followed him out of the library one evening, over to the dorms. That meant he was a freshman. As he turned into the dining hall I thought he caught sight of me, so I looked at my watch and then back toward the library, pretending to be exasperated that whoever it was who was supposed to be meeting me was late.
It took me another month to get up the nerve to speak to him. I’d been at the library for two hours, and he’d just arrived. I gathered up my things in my backpack and put on my coat. I decided I would just say hi, on my way out.
I almost let myself walk past him without saying anything, but as I drew near he looked up and smiled, filling me with hope.
I pulled the sleeve of my coat over my watch.
“Do you know what time it is?” I asked.
He pointed over my shoulder, at the oversized school clock that hung by the elevator. “It’s seven thirty,” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, glancing behind me. “Thanks.”
It was Thursday night, the night of Andrew’s radio show. Sam would already be at the apartment, starting the macaroni and cheese with Julie.
“I’m Victor,” he said. He was still smiling, which I took as a good sign.
“Polly,” I said, and then, “I have to go.”
I took the stairs instead of the elevator, giving him one last look before I opened the door to the stairwell.
“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
Victor looked up from his Introduction to Psychology textbook and pushed his hair behind his ears.
“Yeah, cool,” he said.
Out on the street I turned my walk into a jog. I didn’t want to be late for Andrew’s show.
acknowledgments
Special thanks to Claudette Sutherland, Bruno Blumenfeld, Sascha Alper, Larry Weissman, Jeanette Perez, Annie Keating, Kim Hawkins, Rick Vartorella, Amy Zavatto, Jennifer Morse, Elizabeth Goodman Artis, Helen Rahrer, Susan Whelihan, Alicia Krueger, Liz Kelly, Emily Webster, Gary Karshmer, Chris Artis, Dan Marotta, Carrie Kania, Kevin MacDonald, Muriel Jorgensen, Jennifer Jankowski, Yona Deshommes, and my family.
About the Author
AMY BRYANT grew up in Virginia and now lives in New York City. This is her first novel.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Credits
Cover design and illustration by Joel Holland
Copyright
POLLY. Copyright © 2007 by Amy Bryant. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Mobipocket Reader May 2007 ISBN 978-0-06-145575-9
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
55 Avenue Road, Suite 2900
Toronto, ON, M5R, 3L2, Canada
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.uk.harpercollinsebooks.com
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com