Art & Soul

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  Aria’s hand landed over her heart. “Oh no!”

  A chuckle passed through me as I took a bite of something that was slimy and kind of gray; the lunch ladies were trying to pass it off as turkey and gravy, but they weren’t fooling me. It was pig slop. “So? I’ve missed whole days. Aria has missed weeks.”

  “I had the flu!” she argued. I gave her a half smile. Her lips turned up.

  “No…you don’t understand. I missed first hour,” Simon said, pounding his head against the palms of his hands.

  “Simon has never, ever, ever missed a day of school. Not even a class. He has a perfect record,” Aria explained.

  “Had,” he corrected. “Had. Had. Had!”

  His face was turning red with irritation and even though I should’ve known it wasn’t the right time to ask him, I really needed to know exactly why he was late. “Did you oversleep or something?”

  “What? No. Never. I set four different alarm clocks. But, when I was in the kitchen this morning, I had a twitch in my hand while pouring my orange juice and the whole container dropped, spilling everywhere.”

  “Oh no!” Aria said, her hand flying over her mouth. I didn’t understand. They were acting as if Simon was announcing he’d murdered someone in cold blood.

  “Yup.” Simon nodded, his eyes shifting away from any form of eye contact. “It went everywhere. My dad already left for work, and Mom was off to a doctor’s appointment.”

  “You should’ve called me,” Aria scolded her best friend. For…spilling orange juice…?

  “I couldn’t. I was scrubbing away.”

  “It’s not really that big of a deal. Don’t let it get to ya,” I said, chugging my chocolate milk.

  “Not a big deal?” he argued, raising his voice an octave. “Not a big deal?! I had a perfect record! It was perfect! And now…” His head fell to the table, and he groaned some more. “Now I’m just imperfect.”

  I was having a hard time telling if Simon was being serious or not. I couldn’t imagine ever having a complete meltdown over missing one class period. Heck, I would’ve actually been ecstatic to miss first hour calculus.

  While I continued to eat my mystery lunch and Aria comforted her distressed friend, I looked up to see the same girl I’d seen the day before at the hospital. Her face was paler than it had been, but she was moving as quick as ever with her tray in her hand.

  “Hey, y’all? Who’s that girl?” I asked, nodding in her direction.

  “You mean Awkward Abigail?” Simon said.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Huh?”

  “Awkward Abigail. She’s the weirdest girl in this school,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “A total freak.”

  I wondered if he knew how odd it was for him to be calling her a freak when half of the school called him the same thing. I held my hand up in Abigail’s direction and waved her over. “Hey, Abigail.”

  “Holy crap, Levi! What are you doing?!” Simon hissed. “You can’t call her over here! That’s social suicide and my social status is already in jeopardy.”

  “She seems like a nice girl,” I said, waving her over.

  When she approached us with her tray in hands, she tapped her high heels rapidly against the floor. “What is it? Were you calling me? I thought you were calling me over.”

  “I was,” I said. “I’m Levi. I just wanted to see if you wanted to eat lunch with me and my friends.”

  Her eyes darted back and forth between Aria and Simon. “You want me to eat with you? They’ve never wanted me to eat with them before and I’ve known them since sixth grade.”

  She was very forward, and I kind of liked that about her. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they changed their minds today, right, guys?” Aria and Simon remained silent. I nudged my foot against Aria’s under the table. “Right, guys?”

  Aria raised an eyebrow at me, but nodded. “Right. Yeah, sit down, Awk—Abigail.”

  Abigail’s eyes moved to the large clock in the cafeteria and then to her watch. “I only have three minutes to join you.”

  “Three minutes sounds great,” I said. She placed her tray down beside me and the four of us sat in weird silence, just staring back and forth at one another.

  “Did you Google it, Aria?” Abigail asked.

  “Google what?” Aria replied.

  “Marcus Aurelius. Remember? Remember I told you to Google him?”

  “Oh…right…I haven’t found the time yet.”

  “During the Renaissance, people were learning different languages, instruments, painting, building skills, and also fighting off deadly plagues. The fact that our generation now can hardly look up quotes is quite disheartening because we aren’t really doing much with our lives.” The three of us sat quietly, watching Abigail go on and on. She glanced at her watch. “I only have one minute left to sit with you guys.”

  Well, hell. I liked her spunk.

  “What’s a quote by Marcus?” I asked. Abigail’s face looked up at me, and she gave me a tiny smile.

  “‘The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane,’” she quoted.

  She stared into my eyes as if she were trying to say to me, “I know your secret.” I shifted around and gave her a tiny grin. “What made you quote that one?”

  “Don’t know.” She pushed herself up from the table and picked up her tray. “Just did. Gotta go, time doesn’t wait for anyone, ya know.”

  She started off, but before leaving, she turned toward Simon. “I like your sweater, Simon. Maroon makes your eyes pop.” Her cheeks blushed over and she was off, dashing to her next adventure.

  “In the South, did you guys not believe in social suicide? Because seriously…you’re pushing us all into the land of misfit toys,” Simon argued, giving me a hard stare.

  “I think she likes you,” I said to the panicked redhead.

  He opened his mouth to holler my way, but he shut it fast. His thoughts seemed to be racing through his head, his facial expressions showing his confusion about what I’d said. With haste, he pushed himself up from the table. “I’m going to get lunch.”

  Aria sat across from me, narrowing her eyes in my direction. “What’s your deal? What was that all about?”

  I didn’t answer her, because I wasn’t exactly sure myself.

  * * *

  “Two words for you, dude. Social. Suicide.” Connor was lecturing me in the locker room as we changed for sixth hour gym class. “You can’t keep eating lunch with those freaks if we are ever going to get invited to the best parties.”

  How did I end up having so many classes with this guy? I’d already been invited to the ‘best parties’, I just hadn’t found a reason to ever go. I’d rather sit at home and be ignored by the father who didn’t want me.

  “I’m telling you, if we are going to get the kittens to meow our way, we need to avoid certain taboo things. That includes Awkward Abigail. She’s the worst thing a person could be seen with.”

  “She’s not a thing, Connor. She’s a person,” I said, pulling my gym shirt over my head.

  “I’m just saying, man. I get that it’s probably that Southern hospitality thing, but pull back a little.”

  Simon walked into the locker room and opened his locker. He never really talked in gym class, but I could tell it was his least favorite thing, seeing as how half of the guys picked on him and he was always chosen last for teams.

  Connor started talking some more bullshit in a sickening manner, but I was becoming pretty good at tuning him out. I would’ve been better off sitting in the front of Mr. Jones’ math class being spat on.

  During class we played field hockey out on the soccer field. Mr. Jenson was the fattest gym teacher at Mayfair Heights, and he made sure to always belittle the students who weren’t the best at sports. Luckily I wasn’t too bad, but the way he spoke down to some of the others was disgusting. I wondered if he and Connor were related.

  “Alabama,” Mr
. Jenson called out to me. The nickname had stuck more than I’d wanted it to. “You’re captain. Jason, you’re captain, too.”

  “Hell yeah!” Connor said, walking out toward my team as if I’d picked him.

  “I pick Simon,” I said, making Connor freeze.

  “What?” he and Simon said simultaneously.

  “I said Simon. You’re up.”

  Everyone around us started laughing as if I was kidding, but the small smile that appeared on Simon’s face when his name wasn’t called last was worth it, even if we did get our asses handed to us that day.

  15 Aria

  October came sweeping in with wet weather, cloudy skies, and a growing belly. I was fifteen weeks pregnant and starting to look the part, too.

  For Sunday dinner, Mike invited James and Nadine in an attempt to avoid Dad storming off and rolling his eyes at me with disappointment. Mom made Grace’s favorite meal: chicken parmesan and green beans.

  In the past whenever James and Nadine came over, Nadine would always end up in my room while the guys played video games. She and I would talk about my artwork and her dancing. Now it was extremely odd to have them both sitting a few inches away from me.

  I did my best to not look across the table at James, but I could feel his stare on me.

  This is so awkward.

  Why would he think it was okay to show up to my family’s house for dinner? Why did he think it was okay to bring his girlfriend with him? Why did I feel more alone than ever before whenever he held her hand?

  “So, I got into Duke,” James said, passing around the bowl of garlic bread. “I’m officially going to be a Blue Devil come next fall.”

  Dad beamed like it was his own son’s success. “No way. Full ride?”

  James nodded. He’d be playing football at Duke, and I was sure Nadine was already worrying about the long distance relationship, seeing as how she was going to a community college about an hour away from Mayfair Heights. Even so, she smiled as if she was as proud as Dad.

  Even if James hadn’t gotten a football scholarship, I was positive he would’ve received one for some other reason. He was the top of his class, landing the spot as class valedictorian. He and Mike were pretty evenly matched when it came to playing football—Mike may have been better than James, actually, but when it came to book smarts, they were nowhere close to being on the same field.

  It wasn’t that Mike was stupid. He just didn’t really try. Truth was he never had to try. People loved him easily. The girls always wanted to date him while the guys wanted a solid bromance. Teachers let him slide by with ‘good enough’ grades so he wouldn’t be kicked off of the football team. He was never put into a position where he had to put forth much effort. That was until his ACT scores weren’t that great, which didn’t pair well with his subpar report cards, making it harder for the scholarships to roll in for him. I could tell that my parents were growing wary of Mike not being offered a full ride like they thought he would’ve been.

  They were holding their breath waiting for a letter to come stating that he’d at least been accepted into a college.

  “Well, I think that’s wonderful, James. You worked hard for it. You deserve all the success coming your way,” Mom said.

  James smiled and thanked her. “Hopefully this dope will be joining me out there,” he said, shoving Mike in the shoulder. Every now and then I could feel James’ stare falling over to me, but I hardly reacted.

  “At this point, we’ll take anything,” Dad huffed. I watched Mike’s mouth tighten with annoyance. I wondered if Dad knew how harsh he’d been lately.

  “Ah, the letters will be arriving soon, I’m sure of it. Mike’s the smartest person I know, besides Miss Beautiful over here.” James leaned toward Nadine and kissed her cheek. He stared at her as if no one else in the world existed, even though I was positive that we all did. I wondered what it felt like to be looked at as if I were the only thing that mattered.

  * * *

  After dinner, Nadine stopped in my room while the guys played some video games. She sat on my bed, flipping through my sketchbooks and telling me how talented I was. I wished she knew how much she shouldn’t have liked me.

  “I heard some of the things people have been saying about you at school. They’re jerks,” she said, placing the books down onto my mattress. “For the record, I think it’s brave what you’re doing, having the baby.”

  “Each day at school as I’m being called a whore and slut, I rethink the decision.”

  “Don’t. It’s brave.” Her stare faltered to the ground. “James and I went through the same thing, but I had a miscarriage.” My eyes widened as I listened to her talk. “He didn’t want me to have the kid, anyway. He said he had plans for his future, as if I didn’t have plans, too. After the miscarriage he cried, though. I still don’t know if they were happy tears or sad.”

  “I had no clue.”

  She shook her head. “No one did. It was over the summer when we took a break. But if I’d had a chance, I would’ve kept it, too. So screw everyone at school with their small-minded thoughts. Hold your head up high, and keep going. Even on the bad days, just remember why you’re doing it.”

  “Thanks, Nadine.” Gah. She really, really shouldn’t have liked me.

  She smiled and left the room.

  James popped into my room next, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he said. His hands were stuffed in his jeans pockets as he swayed back and forth. “Sorry about showing up tonight, but Mike kept begging Nadine and me to come over. I didn’t want things to seem weird, so I thought I should come.”

  “It was weird. It is weird.”

  He sighed. “We should talk.”

  “About?”

  “Your brother said you were keeping the baby. Is that true?” he asked sheepishly.

  My jaw tightened, and I dug the palms of my hands into the side of my mattress. “You told me you two broke up because she was treating you terribly. You said you two were going different ways in life.”

  “We were…” His head hung low like a puppy caught destroying a cushion.

  “You left out the fact that she was pregnant.”

  “Aria—”

  “You came into my room and you told me how Nadine treated you like garbage. You built her up to be this monster. You said you always liked me. You ran your hands through my hair calling it beautiful. You called me cute and touched me, kissing my neck, my stomach. Then tonight I find out that your girlfriend never treated you like crap. She loved you. She loves you.”

  “I was in a bad place that night,” he whispered, still not looking at me.

  “You told me how you cared about me. Was that all crap just to sleep with me?”

  “No. Of course I care about you, Aria. You’re my best friend’s kid sister.” Kid sister. Ouch. “That night Mike and I’d been drinking. I’m not proud of it or anything and I never meant to hurt you.”

  Hurt me? “James you screwed me and got me knocked up. Then for weeks you pretended like you never slept with me, and got back together with Nadine—you know, the other girl you screwed and got knocked up. You honestly have the most determined sperm in the history of sperm.”

  He didn’t reply. I hated that he blamed it on alcohol. I hated that the reason he really broke things off with Nadine was because she wanted to keep the baby. I hated that he was able to walk around school with no one knowing the truth of what we did.

  It wasn’t fair.

  “What’s the deal with you and Levi Myers?” he asked out of nowhere. “Are you two a thing or something?”

  A thing?

  Me and Levi?

  I didn’t reply, because what right did he have to ask me that question?

  James and I were in completely different situations, even though we equally played a part in the pregnancy. No one was vandalizing his locker at school. No one was calling him a whore. He was pretty much known as a god at Mayfair Heights.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, shaking
his head. “There’s something about the guy that I don’t like. You shouldn’t hang out with him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I chuckled.

  That’s funny.

  “You can leave now, James. And congratulations on the free ride to Duke. You’re going to make a fantastic blue devil.”

  * * *

  On Monday, Levi and I spent the whole eighth period arguing over what our final project should be. It took everything in my power to not think about Sunday dinner and how James felt the need to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with. But Levi made that easier. He made it easier not to care anything about James. At least for a few hours he helped me forget.

  “You should really check out those books at the library that I told you about,” I said, walking out of the classroom at the final bell.

  “Okay. Want to go now?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve already seen the books, and I understand the importance of abstract art and how it’s life-changing. I need you to realize it so I can start plotting out what three pieces I want to create for the final. Then you can start creating some kind of music piece to go with it.”

  “So, we’ll meet at the library in about an hour?” he asked.

  “Levi,” I sighed. “You’re doing that thing where you annoy me again.” Not really. I like it. “But if you really need me there to walk you through it, I guess that’s fine.”

  “Okay. So we’ll meet in an hour or so at the library. It’s a date.”

  “It’s a meeting,” I corrected.

  “It’s a date-meeting.”

  “It’s a meeting,” I said once more.

  “It’s a meeting of dates,” he echoed, walking off.

  I bit my bottom lip and tried to slow down my quickening heartbeat. It’s a date.

  * * *

  On the bus ride home I sat next to Simon, who was still in a terrible mood. He had been for weeks now ever since he spilled the juice. I knew there was more to his story than he was telling me as he stared out of the window.