Art & Soul

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  “All right, Mr. Wild. What hair color do Jessica and Monica have?” I asked, knowing that he was lying.

  “Platinum blonde, duh.”

  “That was a lucky guess. Most of the girls here have platinum blonde hair.”

  “And blue eyes.”

  “Yup, perfect little Barbie dolls with perfectly big checkbooks.”

  “Except for you,” he said. “You’re different.” He didn’t say anything else.

  The palms of my hands grew sweaty, and I straightened up in my chair. His eyes stayed zoned in on me, and I was shocked by how comfortable I was with our silence. At the same time I was extremely uncomfortable with our silence. How could I be both things at once? I bounced my right knee and bit into my bottom lip nervously. “So you play the violin?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “Are you any good?”

  “Psh. Is Jascha Heifetz one of the greatest violinists to ever exist?” My blank stare met his shocked expression. “The answer is yes. Yes, I am good. And yes, Jascha Heifetz is one of the greatest violinists to ever exist. God. What do they teach you people at this school?”

  “Not the top violinists, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, it’s a shame because Heifetz…he played the violin like he was fighting for his life, as if he would cease to exist if it weren’t for the music he performed. The strings screamed and cried and cheered and laughed all at once.”

  I wasn’t ready to admit it, or show it, but Levi made me smile. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. “Your personality is the complete opposite of your looks.”

  “I know that my personality is outstanding, so I’ll go ahead and pretend that you didn’t just call me ugly.”

  I snickered.

  “Oh! She laughs, too!” He smirked.

  Connor walked behind us and leaned in toward Levi. “Warning, warning, oddity sighting, oddity sighting. Save yourself.”

  Levi gave Connor a laugh, but it wasn’t real. It was more one of those I’m-going-to-laugh-uncomfortably-so-you’ll-leave-me-the-fuck-alone kinds of chuckles.

  “Friend of yours?” I questioned.

  “Can’t you tell? We’re the best of buds,” he sarcastically remarked.

  “Maybe you can give him some tips on growing facial hair. He’s been grooming that one chin hair for the past four years.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, turning back to me. “It’s two, by the way.”

  “What’s two? Two chin hairs?”

  “No, I couldn’t really care less about Connor’s lack of hair dilemma. But you said it was just a coincidence that we had one class together, but we have two. You’re in my calculus class, too, but you never looked up to notice me.”

  “So you noticed?” I asked.

  “Noticed what?”

  “Noticed me not noticing you?”

  He laughed. “Touché.”

  The teachers handed out sheets we were supposed to fill out in order to ‘get to know each other’. The sheets were filled with basic questions like what’s your favorite food, favorite music artist, favorite sport, are you in a relationship.

  I blinked once. I looked up at Levi, and then back at the fact sheet. It didn’t say anything about a relationship, so it had either been in my head, or Levi had asked. “What?”

  “I said do you have a boyfriend?”

  “That’s not one of the questions on the sheet.”

  “Aren’t we allowed to deviate from the list?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I think we are.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  Levi raised his hand, and Mr. Harper called on him; I cringed. “Yes, boy with the violin?”

  “Are we allowed to add our own questions to the fact sheet, teacher with the impressive mustache?” Levi asked, his Southern voice really showing up within his question.

  Mr. Harper curled the ends of his mustache with his fingers. “I welcome creative partner exploration.”

  “Minus the sex,” Connor chimed in, annoyance in his voice. “This class blows.”

  “Nice word choice, Connor. Your saxophone partner can look forward to in-depth conversations about life, politics, and human intelligence with you, I’m sure.” Mr. Harper smirked before walking over to Levi and me. “Where are you from, boy with the violin? I hear the accent.”

  “Alabama, teacher with the impressive mustache.”

  Levi was able to effortlessly slide into comfortable banter with anyone. He made it seem so charming, too.

  “Ah! I met my Leonardo in Alabama many moons ago. Remind me to tell you the story of my da Vinci one day.” Mr. Harper walked off, humming to himself and twirling his mustache in a daze of false memories.

  “So…boyfriend?” Levi turned back to me, giving me his full attention.

  He wasn’t going to give up, so I gave in. “No boyfriend.”

  “The guy with the red hair is just…?”

  “A best friend.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want to step on the red-haired guy’s toes. It’s against the rules, ya know? Taking another man’s girl.”

  I laughed. “What makes you think I’m available for the taking?”

  He ran his hand against his jaw line. “I don’t, really. Just hopin’.”

  “Why me? You have girls throwing themselves at you. Plus, people like you don’t like people like me.”

  “People like me?” He leaned in closer to me. “You mean Southern? Because I was totally kidding when I said the South shall rise again earlier in the hallway to that girl. I’m as Northern as one person could get. I think tater tot casserole is outstanding. The Packers are probably one of the best teams in the NFL. Also, cheese is delicious. Gouda, provolone, sharp cheddar—you name it, I’ll eat it, and I’ll love every bite.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so weird.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He just stared at me, his eyes and lips forming the kindest of smiles. I shifted around in my chair. I was uncomfortable with the way he watched me as if he saw into me. I preferred being the ghost of the school. His lips stretched wider as he placed his forearms on the table and clasped his hands together. His chin rested against his hands.

  “For the record,” he spoke softly, “people like me find people like you refreshing.”

  I placed my pencil on my table and blinked once. Then I proceeded to stare at my feet the rest of the class period. But the whole time I thought about his chocolate eyes.

  * * *

  As the final bell of the day rang, Levi insisted on walking me to my locker, even though I told him it was unnecessary. He disagreed, leaving us arguing until we both arrived at the hallway my locker was located in.

  “By the way, I didn’t really have a threesome in the locker room,” he joked, but I couldn’t respond.

  My breath caught. A group of popular girls and guys, including Simon’s stupid crush, Tori, were surrounding my locker. The closer I stepped, the harder my heart pounded against my chest.

  Tori turned to me with a wicked smile on her face and her red lipstick tube in her hand. She stuck it in her purse and puckered up her lips. “It turns out even freaks can be whores.”

  When I read the red lipstick words spread across my locker, tears started to form in my eyes, but I pushed them down and swallowed hard. Sadly these jerks were going to be highly disappointed. I wasn’t going to cry in front of them. Screw them.

  16 and Preganent

  Slut

  Whore

  Gothic tramp

  I’d hated a lot of moments in my life. When I was six, I hated that I didn’t get the Barbie doll I wanted for Christmas, and I cried so much that I made myself physically ill for the whole day. When I was eleven I hated that I wasn’t able to go to art camp because I had the chicken pox. When I was fifteen I hated that I was invisible.

  But right now was a new level of hate. Right now I just h
ated me for putting myself in a position to be noticed.

  I also hated that the bullies were entertained by my personal struggles, even though they’d spelled pregnant wrong on my locker. They should’ve really thought about being entertained by an English class or something.

  Dummies.

  I sighed.

  I’m the dummy.

  Levi stood at a distance, looking at the words spread across my locker. When our eyes locked, all of the playfulness he’d showcased earlier was gone from his stare. All that was left was pity, and embarrassment.

  He started in my direction, and I held my hand up, shaking my head back and forth, hurrying down the hallway.

  “Aria.” I heard behind me and I snapped around to find Simon staring at me with the most pathetic eyes ever. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it just as quickly.

  “You know what’s messed up? Only three people in this school knew about this: Mike, you, and me. I’m pretty sure Mike wouldn’t tell anyone, seeing as how he tries his best to convince people that we aren’t even related, and I know that I didn’t say anything.”

  His head lowered, his eyes dancing across the ground. “It was a mistake. Ms. Givens was telling me about Tori in the library, and I might have slipped and told her about…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

  My heart was breaking.

  He was supposed to be my best friend.

  “Leave me alone, Simon.” I forced my feet to move from their current location and travel down the hallway to find a way out. My hands aggressively shoved against the girls’ bathroom door, I pushed open a stall, and shut it just as quick. I pushed the lock into place and took a deep breath. My panic was suffocating my heart, breaths fighting each other to be taken in and blown out. My hands rested on my hips as I began to try to steady my breathing.

  I coached myself. I promised that no matter what, I’d get through this.

  The waves of emotions were strong, but I was strong, too. I had to be stronger than my feelings, stronger than those people. Sometimes there was no other choice. Life had already taken so much from me. I couldn’t allow it to take my strength, too. I smoothed my hands over my shaky body.

  A few moments later, I opened the bathroom stall door. My eyes shifted around the space, and I almost had another panic attack when I saw Levi leaning against the sink.

  Oh crap, don’t tell me I went in the boys’ bathroom.

  This day needed to be deleted from existence. This day was nothing but shit.

  I was mortified as I went to wash my hands at the sink farthest from him. He smirked and jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. “Are you okay?”

  I ignored him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  My head tilted in his direction and even though I knew we were the only ones in the restroom, I double-checked behind me to make sure he was talking to me.

  “This is the girls’ room, Levi,” I whispered. He laughed. He thought I was funny. I was actually being extremely serious.

  Then he frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you say something to them?”

  “I don’t care what they think.”

  “Is that why you just had a panic attack?”

  The back of my hands brushed against my cheeks, then under my chin. “I didn’t.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, he gave me a ‘bullshit’ look. He leaped off of the counter. Before I could say anything else, two girls walked into the bathroom giggling and paused when they saw me and Levi standing there. They started to giggle again and walked out—not before muttering a nice ‘slut’ comment. Great. Just what I need.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes. “Look, I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. I don’t need your pity. Besides, you’re coming off as a really creepy new guy and the last thing I need in my life is more creeps.”

  I didn’t mean the words, and I regretted them the moment they left my lips, but I was embarrassed and wasn’t sure how much more I could take. Having Levi standing in the girls’ bathroom with people walking in staring at us and calling me a slut was too much. Being pregnant was too much. Levi treating me in such a caring way was too much.

  It was all emotionally draining and pushing him away was the one thing I could control. I didn’t need his caring gazes and adorable smirks.

  He didn’t reply. His head lowered, and he stuffed his hands into his jeans as he walked away and muttered an apology.

  I was officially a jerk.

  * * *

  When I finally built up enough courage to leave the bathroom, I turned to my left to see James, my brother’s best friend, standing in front of my locker, reading the red lipstick. James had always been a staple in my family’s life—he was Mike’s version of Simon, pretty much. He was also my first, longest running crush since I was eight.

  I liked to think of James as a born socialite. He was friends with everyone no matter their high school social status. From the stoners, to the nerds, to the jocks, James befriended every group. That was part of the reason why it was so easy for me to crush on him when I was younger.

  Funny how it only took one night to change all of my thoughts about him.

  James looked up and gave me a half smile. “Aria. Hey.” I swallowed hard and stared into his worried eyes. “Is it true? Are you…?”

  My head lowered. “Yes.”

  “And is it…” He paused, glancing around the empty hallways. He took a sharp breath and stepped closer to me. “Am I…?”

  “Yes.”

  He muttered ‘shit’ under his breath. His fingers tugged at the collar of his sky blue Calvin Klein polo. “Are you sure it’s mine?”

  I must’ve looked shocked, because he quickly retracted his words.

  “Sorry. That was an asshole thing to say.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “What I meant was, are you going to handle it?”

  “Handle it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He whispered, “You know…are you going to get rid of it?”

  I didn’t reply.

  How could I reply to that?

  “You gotta understand, Aria. Nadine and I are in a really good place with our relationship right now. Plus, I have football and am getting ready to go off to college next year. This would ruin everything for me. I can’t really afford to deal with this kind of thing in my life right now.”

  My eyes moved to my lipstick locker.

  Pretty sure you’re not the one dealing with this.

  My stomach tightened, and for a second I thought about slamming my fist into his perfectly slender nose. “Thanks for your kind support, James. You truly have a way with words.” I rushed out of the school building. All of the buses and most of the cars in the parking lot had already left. Mom sat in her Audi, looking at her phone.

  Great. Now the doctor’s appointment.

  My body slumped. I dragged myself to the car and collapsed into the passenger seat.

  “Where the heck have you been, Aria?! I’ve been waiting here for over thirty minutes and you haven’t been answering your phone!” she hissed, annoyed with my tardiness. “Do you know what kind of stress you’ve been putting on us? Your father is on the edge of a breakdown, I had to make way too many calls to get you set up with a great therapist, Ms. Franks can only watch Grace and KitKat until six, I have to work third shift at the hospital tonight, and you have an appointment in five minutes across town and now we are going to be late!”

  I looked up at her and my mind tried to form words about how much of a shitty day I’d just experienced. I wanted to unload all of my emotional garbage into her lap but the thoughts in my head were all just turning into a giant mess.

  My bottom lip trembled as I locked eyes with Mom. Her stare softened from her irritation. She nodded once, and only once, in understanding. “Okay,” she whispered, unbuckling her seatbelt and moving closer to me. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and she pulled me into her side. “Okay.”

  I sobbed uncontr
ollably into her side.

  And she didn’t let go.

  7 Levi

  I wasn’t a stranger to panic attacks. I’d watched Mom fall into them all the time growing up. They had a way of engulfing a person, swallowing them whole and spitting them out to the point that they weren’t recognizable. That was why I had to check on Aria in the bathroom. I had to know she was okay, because I’d seen the fallout of people when they weren’t all right due to their own minds.

  Aria’s eyes were sad, the same way Mom’s always were.

  The same way mine would be if I didn’t hide it so well.

  I’d become great at smiles. I hid behind them to make sure no one ever realized how shitty my life was. Smiling was a way to avoid people asking questions. I hated the questions I was always asked when I traveled into town back in Alabama. I hated them almost as bad as I hated the stares and whispers.

  The stares and whispers were the worst of all.

  * * *

  “It’s about time you stopped by,” Lance said as I walked into Soulful Things. He inherited the music shop right in the heart of downtown Mayfair Heights after my grandparents passed away. Lance was a few years older than my dad, but looked decades younger. He was a weird hippie kind of guy who was married to a weirder hippie woman named Daisy.

  I wasn’t sure if Daisy was her real name or if she just did enough drugs to actually believe she was a flower. Plus, she was always wearing bright yellow, which fit with her super bright and spunky personality. She taught 5:00 A.M. yoga classes on the rooftop of the store seven days a week up until winter moved in, when the classes were relocated to the high school’s gymnasium.

  Lance sipped on his green drink, which he’d probably made from grass and dirt, while he set up the window display with a new drum set. “How was the first day of hell?”

  “School was good,” I replied. “Hellish, but good.”

  He smiled. His long brown hair was tossed on the top of his head in what he liked to call a manly-bun, and he kept combing fallen pieces back. “And how’s big brother Kent treating you? Is that going over well?”

  “It’s good,” I lied.