Chapter 5

I didn’t tell anyone about meeting Javelin Bow-Ridge. The next day at school, I went through my glasses with a distracted mind. No one noticed because we were in the middle of final exams and everyone was a basket case, dreading the tests our teachers put before us while praying for a swift ending without the fallout of bad grades.

During my free period, I spend most of it sketching Javelin’s face, capturing his multitude of expressions, instead of studying for my advanced bioloy final, which was scheduled the next day at first period. Paul Florence, who sat on the right side of me nudged my arm, causing the drawings of Javelin to spill all over the floor at my feet. He helped me gather them, whispering “Sorry Viv.” When he took a good look at them, his shocked expression spoke volumes louder than the Hi-Fi Trent had in his Mustang.

I snatched them from his hands, hiding the drawings under my notebook. My face flamed a guilty shade of red. I asked a bit rudely, “What do you want, Paul?”

“Um, Vivvie, do you have an extra pencil I can borrow until tomorrow? I lost mine and all I have is a pen. My next exam is Chemistry and I need a pencil to work the problems. I’m glad it’s the last test of the day. You’re lucky you’ve only got art to deal with.”

“When will you guys realized I’m not the school supply shop and bring extra pencils, paper and pens to class?” I fumed, as I rumaged through the bottom of my bag for a penicl. My hope that Paul didn’t notice that the drawings were of Javelin vanished with his next comment.

“Hey Vivvie, are those drawings of Little James Bow-Ridge? Sure does look like him. Trent’s bummed out that he’s going to be here all summer. They hate each other. Better not let Trent see those. Or he’ll be pissed as hell.”

Just what I need, I thought. “They’re just exercises for my art class, Paul. I’ll trash them after Mr. Watts reviews them.” I lied and didn’t feel guilty at all. It wasn’t anyone’s business who or what I drew and I resented Paul’s comments.

“Viv, Bow-Ridge is trouble. He always has been and always will be. A black sheep can’t change its wool.” Paul was protective of Trent. With his mousy brown hair and lankiness, he couldn’t compete with Trent’s fiery good looks. And I didn’t blame him for not trying, but sometimes I wished Paul would step out of Trent’s shadow.

Before I could reply, the bell rang announcing end of free period. Paul scampered away, absent-mindedly saying good-bye. I called after him, “Good luck on your exam.” He put up his hand to acknowledge my words and then disappeared into the mass of students in the hall. Slowly, I got my things together, trying not to obsess over what he said about Trent and Javelin. A foreboding hung in the air around me. There would be a collision of egos before summer was out and I dreaded this.

When I walked into the art room, most of the students were already working on their final art project. Mine was finished and stood on an easel in the back of the room, covered with a canvas to prevent anyone from touching the wet paint. The art show was scheduled a few days before graduation and I was nervous, because Mother hated the shows we had every year. My talent was a slap in the face for her and she resented it with a hatred that sometimes frightened me.

My friend Eva greeted me when I walked in. “Hey Vivvie, what are you doing here? Aren’t you finished with your final?”

“Hi Eva. Yes, I’m done but I have a canvas left and feel the urge to paint. If I go home now, Mother will find some mundane chore for me to do.”

She laughed. “I hear ya.” Her blonde looks were the envy of most of the girls in school. Eva was born beautiful and had never known any other status. I overheard one of the seniors describe her as a touchable Barbie. Dirk, another friend of Trents, was madly in love with her but she ignored him and dated older guys only.

Mr. Watts came over when he saw me laying paint down on my palette. “Vivian, I’m surprised to see you today. You should be studying for your other exams, now that you’re art final is finished.” His bald head shined at me, as he leaned forward to whisper, “And it’s magnificent.”

“Thanks, Mr. Watts. But I’ve got the urge to paint and you know how it is at home. I’ll never get it on canvas. And if I paint it too many times in my head, it never ever gets there.” He stood with arms folded, nodding his head in agreement. Anticipating his next statement, I said, “I’m using acrylics instead of oils so it will dry overnight.”

Mr. Watts smiled. “Okay, Vivian. Do what you have to do. I’ll never try to stop you from painting. Surely you know that.” He patted my arm and walked over to check on the progress of the other students. I turned back to my canvas and closed my eyes.

A kaliedoscope of colors dazzled my senses and with my eyes still shut, I touched my brush to the palette, letting it chose the colors it needed. Thus I began to paint. My mind was on flying away from this little town, seeing the sights of the world and experimenting the freedom to paint or draw anytime I wanted. I painted until I felt the urgency disapate. When I laid the brush down, a wave of tiredness swept over me. Glancing around, I saw that there were only three people left in the classroom—Mr. Watts, Eva and me.