In an effort to play the good twin, I start dinner as soon as I get home. Violet isn’t home yet and my sister is upstairs, probably playing on her phone. I’m dreading Violet coming home. I can’t imagine her being mad about skipped classes. Or even disappointed really. She’ll just be all...confused. She’ll wonder if she can “handle” teens and question whether us staying is a good idea.

She’s trying. She really is. She even tries to be home for dinner most nights. Even if she can’t stay after. But she doubts everything she does and it leaves me feeling unsettled. Like we have to be perfect or we’ll be banished.

And somehow we HAVE managed to be nearly perfect.


Angela and I end up eating dinner alone, a text from Violet saying she’ll be home late. Anthony calls around 8pm.

“Ok. Everything worked out. I’m coming to pick you up.” He states without any explanation.

“What? I can’t go out now. I’m already going to be in trouble and Violet isn’t home!” I argue. “AND you haven’t told me ANYTHING about what you’re planning.”

“I know. I’m still not going to tell you. But come on, I’ll swing by shortly. Pretend you have a headache or something and go to bed.”

I picture his excited face when his ‘idea’ had come to him. I glance up as Angela walks in.

“Yeah, ok.” I agree.


“I need you to cover for me.” I tell her.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it’s for.” I argue.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to get kicked out and I’m not helping you with whatever stupid thing you’re up to.”

I don’t blame her but I’m still annoyed. “Fine. But I’m going out anyway. SO you can cover for me and I’ll be less likely to get caught. OR you can not.” I shrug. She sighs and ignores me, climbing onto her bed. She glances at me occasionally as I fix my hair and get ready.

“Where are you even going?” She finally asks. I stick my tongue out at her. I don’t want to admit that I have no idea. She rolls her eyes at me and pulls out her phone.


It’s not hard to sneak out when your caregiver isn’t home. Violet isn’t likely to peek in on me later if she thinks I’m asleep. This was almost too easy.

“You steal a car?” I ask, half joking, half wondering if his dad would be mad. He shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m allowed to take it out. My dad’s working tonight anyway though so he won’t even notice.” He nods towards the house “I see you got out ok?”

“Violet’s not even home yet.” I say as I climb in.


As we pull away, I glance back at the house. No use worrying now.


It’s fairly quiet as he drives. I’m tempted to ask where we’re going and what the plan is but I know he won’t tell me. He’s enjoying having a secret plan way too much. And I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of my curiosity. He keeps glancing at me, probably waiting for me to ask. No way. He wanted to keep it a secret.

When we pull up in front of the school, I wait for the car to get going again. When it doesn’t I look at him. He’s grinning at me and puts the car into park.

“What is happening?” I ask. He smiles and moves to open his door.

“We’re sneaking out, to go to SCHOOL?”


He laughs. “Come on.”

“Ok, no offence, but this might be the lamest sneak out ever.” I whisper, glancing around. The places is empty.


He starts heading up the stairs.

“Won’t it be locked?” I ask. I have to admit. I’m getting a little bit curious. He smiles back at me.

“I have a key.”

“To the school?”

Another grin. I roll my eyes and follow.


When he uses the key and walks right in, I’m sure he’s done this before. I follow him in, with another look behind me to make sure no one is watching.


When we get to the top of the stairs, he stops by the windows overlooking the water. I stare out for a moment, taking in the view. Even more spectacular at night. I turn and see he’s placed a bottle of whiskey on the table and I laugh.

“THIS is your big plan? Sneak into the school and drink? I think it’s been done before. And whiskey? Really?” I tell him. Surely this isn’t his plan?

“I didn’t think you were a peach schnapps kind of girl, but maybe I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes.

“The booze wasn’t the plan. But I got nervous and brought it.”

“Nervous?” I ask. Oh, I hoped this wasn’t another random romance moment. One was enough for the day. He looks down, slightly embarrassed and I’m suddenly worried I’ve misread our friendship entirely.


“I just don’t want you to end up mad at me. I still think it’s a good idea...but…” He pauses. I must get a strange look on my face because he lets out a laugh.

“I’m not trying to hook up with you.” He admits. I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s just that, I like you a lot and I don’t want to cross a line. A FRIENDSHIP line, not a romance line.”

“I’m pretty hard to offend.” I tell him, having no idea what he’s getting at.

“Ok. But let’s drink first anyway.” He grabs the bottle and takes a swig.

“What about your car?” I ask.

“We’ll cab home, I’ll get it in the morning.” He shrugs. No big deal. I wonder if his dad would be mad but don’t ask.


I take a small sip and squeeze my eyes as it burns down my throat.

“Whiskey? Really?” I repeat. My gaze travels back out the window. It really is a stunning view. I grab the bottle and take a bigger sip. I roll my shoulders and slowly feel myself relax. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good friend. Dirk, of course but it wasn’t quite the same. This was...comfortable.

I turn back to look at Anthony and he’s watching me. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“Yes?”

“This is totally unrelated to ...well … anything but...I saw you kiss Harry.” He says, still watching me.

“Uhhh, nope. He kissed ME. And where the heck were you?” I ask, thinking back to the empty yard.

“Still around. Heading out of the school.” He says.

“At the risk of being annoying...I have to warn you. He’s...kind of a jerk.”

“Ok.” I reply. I’m not sure of what else to say. I’m not overly interested in Harry.

“For real, Lilith. He may act nice, but he’s selfish and mean.” He says it a bit more intense this time and I wonder if something’s happened between them.


“I didn’t argue. I said OK.” I tell him. I stand up and take another, longer drink of the booze and then set the bottle back on the table.

“Now, let’s get to it.” I announce loudly. My voice echoing down the hall. “Whatever it is, I’m ready!”

Anthony laughs and gets up.

We head up another flight of stairs and I follow behind quietly until we get to one of the rooms. The door is partly open and Anthony walks in. When I step in, I know what room it is before the lights are even on. I can smell the paint.

The art room.



I am suddenly really angry. After explaining how I felt about everything today did he suddenly think I’d just change my mind? A bit of booze was all I needed? I had thought he’d understood. He’d argued right along with me like he had understood. I manage to keep my mouth shut and count to 20 quietly in my head. Calming strategy from youth counsellor number 4. He’s looking around the room, touching things. He’s nervous. He knows I’m mad. Then why do this?

“What is this?” I finally manage. “I told you. I don’t paint anymore. And a few swigs of booze aren’t going to change that. What the hell?” I’m quite proud of my outburst. I don’t even swear.


“Noooo. No no no.” He responds. “I’m not asking you to paint. Not really.” he says.


“Ok. It’s ok. I knew you’d be mad at first.” He starts, as if to reassure himself. He gives me a half grin.

“If you knew I’d be mad then why...” I start.

“Yup. BUT” He cuts me off. “You’re not here to do art. You’re here to paint.” He says. I stare at him waiting for more of an explanation. He’s not making any sense. And I’m not doing this.

“You have to go to class. And you’ll have to paint. But you have to learn to just put the brush to the paper. Paint. Not art. Not the same.” He’s trying to explain but I’m still not understanding.


“When I paint at home, I consider it to be art. It’s me. It’s all that stuff you described when you were upset earlier. Feelings, emotions. Stuff you don’t want to share with people. I get it. When you paint at school it’s like...colouring. You paint fruit. Or flowers. Or shapes.” He gestures to the table of “inspiring objects” on the other side of the room.

“Why would I paint fruit?” I ask.

“The same reason you look under a microscope at pond samples. Because it’s class and you were told to.”

I just stare at him.


“I’m not trying to push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” He assures me. “I’m trying to get you to see that you can still go to class and participate without actually doing art.”

It seems stupid. And too easy. But he has a point.

“I’ll go first.” He says. He walks over towards the easels and takes several brushes out at once, dipping them into multiple colours. I cringe as the paint mixes.


“See?” He says as he wipes the brush across the canvas. “It’s just paint on paper.”

He turns around and faces me, one hand behind his back, still painting without being able to see and I laugh.

“It doesn't matter what it looks like. It’s not deep, meaningful or even pretty.”

I watch him for awhile and I have to admit, he’s right. Surely I can do THIS.


“Ok, so...now it’s your turn?” He asks, clearly still worried I’ll be mad. I grab the brush from his hand and don’t even clean it off before dipping it into a new colour. I haven’t held a paint brush in a long time. It’s a cheap one. The bristles are stiff and shedding. I look down at it. I never would have painted with this before. I look up at Anthony. I’m suddenly filled with panic.

“Doesn’t even have to be pretty.” He repeats. I take a deep breath. Ok. I can do this.


He moves back towards a couch and I dip the brush into a new colour. Moving it across the canvas. I can feel the paint gliding on the paper. It’s horribly cheap paint but it still feels good. I feel tears welling up in my eyes again and I can’t even believe I’ve become the person who cries multiple times a day.

Without looking at him, I tell Anthony he has to turn away. No peeking. Mostly so he doesn’t see the tears I’m trying to wipe away. He does as he’s told.


I slather paint all over the page and smile. ‘It doesn’t even have to be pretty.’ I think to myself.

“You gonna be all night?” Anthony teases after awhile.

“Nope. I’m ready for the grand reveal.” I announce.


He turns around and starts laughing. Uncontrollable laughter.

“This is the first picture I’ve painted in over a year and you’re LAUGHING at me?” I demand. I’m kidding but he doesn’t know that. His face shifts to horror as he analyzes how his reaction has upset me. His mouth opens to apologize but I cut him off.

“I’m kidding.” I tell him. He swats me in the arm and laughs again. “Not funny.”

“Pretty funny.”

“So? Now you can go to art class?” He says. I nod and push back feelings of weepiness.

“Thank you.” I tell him. He blushes and I lean in to hug him. “I needed this.”


It’s late. Very late. But we’re already out and I’m already in trouble. I suggest we walk home rather than cab. We both live in the same direction and while it’s a long walk, it’s a gorgeous night and I’m not ready to call it quite yet. He agrees to the walk.

As we open the front door of the school, the dark night is ruined by blazing blue and red lights. Two cop cars parked right out front of the school. As two teens waltz out the doors smelling like booze and spattered with paint.

Busted.