“I’m so glad things seem to be working out for you.”

Violet nods and smiles. “They really are. I remember Mary-Sue telling me horror stories of the girls fighting and screaming all the time but honestly, they’re quiet. They help out around the house. It’s kind of nice having them here.”

Dave, an old friend she’d once been in a relationship with smiles back. They chat quietly into the evening and Violet finds herself wondering if she would be disappointed if Mary-Sue did return.



It’s been a few weeks and somehow by some miracle we’re starting to feel a bit settled. I’ve spent some afternoons with Anthony, Angela and I have sort of been getting along, Violet seems to be adjusting to us staying with her. I’ve even managed to make it to most of my classes. So when I’m called into the principal’s office, I’m surprised. Maybe it’s like a guidance counsellor style check in or something. When I’m invited in to see Mr. Ghasem, I’m smiling.



He starts by asking how things are going and I tell him. He’s watching me closely and I can’t tell what he’s waiting for or expecting. When I’m done speaking there’s a long drawn out pause that makes me nervous.

“Do you value the arts, Lilith?” He asks. I’m not sure I understand his question.

“Uhh…”

“It’s just that you haven’t attended a single visual arts class yet. You’ve signed up. It’s an elective.” He states. I did NOT sign up. My mother had signed me up. “But you seem to think that you don’t need to attend art class, which makes me think that YOU think the arts are not important.”

I’m sure my mouth opens and closes a number of times but I’m not sure what to say.



He launches into a lengthy speech about having a passion or interest in life. But that it’s hard and you have to work at it. I’m listening. Sort of.

Art class. Of course I valued the arts. My entire life had been about painting at one point. My bedroom a studio. Our garage, a studio. Dreams of having my OWN studio. But art is about painting your emotions. It’s easier to do that when your life is average. Teen drama, boy trouble, emo phase, none of THAT was hard to get onto the paper.

Now….




“Lilith? Are you even listening?” Mr. Ghasem snaps. I tune back in and nod. He shakes his head.

“You will be expected to attend ALL of your classes. Whether you’re interested in them or not.” He states. I nod again, looking down. I’m not sure I can make it in to an art class.

“And I will be phoning Ms. Swan who is your current caregiver?” He’s asking, unsure. I nod. I’m sure he’s expecting me to say something but I can’t. I feel my cheeks flush and I’m worried I might cry. An unexpected feeling. Things had been going so well.

“Lilith?” He asks again. I look up.

“Do you understand? You are expected to go to all of your classes. I will be phoning your guardian.”

“Yes, sir.” I respond. When he dismisses me, I am holding back tears which is embarrassing.



As I’m leaving, I see Harry sitting, waiting to go in. He gives me a half wave but I ignore him. I’m mentally calculating how long it will take to get to the washroom and wondering if I can hold my tears that length of time.



I book it down the hall, panicked that this overwhelming need to cry will take over.



The school washrooms are no treat but I’m grateful that no one else is in there when I open the door. I find a stall and take some breaths. I feel hot tears welling up.

Art class. My art teacher had been the first to notice when our family life had started to get disastrous. She’d even called home, to see if my parents could enlighten her. I’d stopped painting. I’d show up and do nothing. I couldn’t. How could I paint the chaos of everything? In front of my classmates painting fruits and flowers.



“Hey, Lilith?”

Oh gawd, someone had seen me.

“I know you’re in here…” It’s Anthony. I wipe my face with my sleeve and peek out of the stall.



“You know this is the ladies, right?” I respond.

“Yeah, but you looked upset.” He half smiles but looks concerned. I tell him about getting hauled into the office for skipped art classes.

“You haven’t gone to ANY art classes? I thought you were a painter.” He says, recalling a conversation from the first time we’d met. I’m surprised he remembers. Once again I’m left standing like a fish. My mouth opening and closing but no words.

He’s looking right into my eyes and the concern there is genuine.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He says with a shrug.



I wait and then I tell him.

I tell him what it’s like to suddenly be expected to put your emotions on paper when they’re REAL. Not stupid teen emotions but parents fighting emotions. Parents being overbearing to make up for their lack of parenting. A sister you can barely stand being in the same room as without starting WW3. Being abandoned on a stupid island by your parents because they’re too busy living their own lives to CARE about you. And I’m supposed to PAINT THAT? My voice is getting louder, and he’s nodding and agreeing with every word.



“Screw them.” He says when I finally stop.

“My parents?” I choke out a laugh through tears that I hadn’t even realized had started falling again.

“Well, yeah. But I meant Mr. Ghasem and the art teacher. You paint when you’re ready. What’s he going to do? Kick you out?”

I shrug. “He’s going to call Violet.” I say. He already knows what is at stake there.

He makes a face at that. “I’m sure she won’t just ship you out. But I see the dilemma.”

He thinks for a little while longer.



“I have an idea, but I have to think about it first. I’ll get back to you tonight?” He says mysteriously. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Just tell me.”

He grins. “Nope. Besides, you probably have another class to get to…”

I glance at the time on my phone. He’s right. “Shit.” I mumble. The least I can do is continue to go to my other classes.



I sneak into science a minute late but the teacher hasn’t started yet. Angela is glaring at me.

“What? I haven’t missed anything.” I whisper.

“You got called into the principal’s office.” She states in a loud whisper. How on Earth had she known that? Sure, we sometimes had a twin connection, but we weren’t telepathic.

“What did you DO?” She demands. I glare at her.



“It’s nothing. It was about art class.” I vaguely explain. She stares at me. She knows I haven’t been going. She also knows I haven’t painted anything in over a year.

“Is he going to call Violet?” She asks with a worried look. I nod.

“Come on, Lil. You have to figure this out.”

“I KNOW.” I reply. I’m relieved when the teacher clears her throat and starts the class. I can feel Angela staring at me, but I manage to ignore her until we’re too busy with our lab work for her to ask anymore questions.



When the bell rings at the end of the day, I purposely miss the bus and sit out front for awhile. I’m not quite ready to face Violet, and I don’t mind the walk, even if it is a long one. I’d been half expecting Anthony to find me again but I hadn’t seen him the rest of the day. I had no idea what he was up to. I found myself becoming more curious about whatever his ‘idea’ was.



“Need a lift?” I look over and Harry Ghasem is settling in on the bench beside me. We’ve spoken a total of 4 times. None of them as interesting as the first conversation.

“I’m good, thanks.” I tell him.

“It’s a long walk.” He just lives up the road from us. I wonder how often he gets stuck walking home. I shrug.



“You wanna talk about getting sent to the office?” He asks. I give him a look and get up to sit on the bench.

“Not really.” We weren’t friends. We were hardly friendly. If I was going to talk about it, it wouldn’t be with him. I’d been intrigued by his attitude the first day of class but since then, he’d just been around.

“You looked upset.” He says.

“I was.” I tell him. I study his face for a moment but it’s unreadable. Is he concerned? Nosy? He’s looking at me but I’m not getting into it. Not again. Not with him.



“My dad can be intense. Whatever it was, I’m sure it’s not as big of a deal as he made it out to be.” He says.

“It was nothing.”

“Ok.”

He’s waiting again and I almost laugh. He reminds me of his dad waiting for me to fess up in the office. I won’t dare say that though. We sit quietly for a bit.



“You sure you don’t want a ride home? It’s not a big deal.” He offers after a few minutes. I shake my head.

“I could use the quiet time and the freedom before I get home.”

He nods as if he understands.

“I should get going though.” I say and move to get up. Staying behind had been for quiet and sitting here awkwardly with Harry wasn’t getting me that.



“Hey,” He says as I step away. I turn back and he’s getting up. I hope he’s not going to insist on giving me a ride. Or worse, walk home with me. I really could use the quiet.



Before I know what’s happening, he reaches for my arm and pulls me closer, and he tugs me forward. In a blink, he’s leaned in and is pressing his lips to mine.



Well then. I had NOT expected that. I fall into it for a moment before we both pull away.



“See ya,” He says, and then walks away. Huh. I glance back at him as he heads back into the school. What the heck was that?