Ballard Collective.”
“I’d be thrilled with shows at the Ballard Collective. I hope I can get there.”
“You can,” she says. “You will. Just trust yourself.”
I take my hot chocolate and walk home, teeny buds of inspiration blooming through the electric storm inside me.
* * *
I go to my room, throw on my splattered tank dress, and run to the garage to spray again.
This time, I use the wall. The inside of the garage. First, I move my drop cloth to cover up the parts of Grampie’s Chevy that are closest to where I’m working. He’d never forgive me if I messed up his car.
There’s not enough wall to get out everything I’m feeling.
Red hearts. Holly. Blue question marks. Nick. Sweeps of black with a nozzle that make it look gray. Spraying and spraying and spraying.
I stand back and look at my work, which didn’t feel like work at all. It felt like the burst I needed. It’s all about worry over Nick and Holly, and that’s real, but there’s this other thing in me now. This thing that says my trouble with them is not undoable.
I grab the yellow and make a sun up in the corner.
The spray paint got all over my dress. I smile to myself over adding new splotches to it from doing something that felt so right. It also got on my skin. So I cool down with a long shower.
Mom orders pizza for dinner, and when it shows up I join her and Grampie in the kitchen. I don’t know whatwill happen when one of them sees the garage. Maybe I should just tell them?
Grampie talks about the Greenwood Car Show, which is coming up. It’s kind of the highlight of his year. One of the few times he actually shows off his Chevy.
Eventually, Grampie says, “So how’s my workin’ girl? You enjoying punching the ol’ time card?”
“Yep,” I say. “I really like it.”
“That’s good, kiddo,” he says. “It’s good to earn some money.”
“Abso-snootly,” I say. I’m trying really hard to not let on that, really, I feel as if I’m losing my friends.
“Yeah,” Mom says. “You haven’t been around much. You and Nick hung out today, right?”
“We went to the mall,” I say. “With Holly.” It should be happy news.
“That’s great!”
“Yeah.”
“I’m assuming she’s forgiven you.”
“I’m not sure. Things are going really well between her and Wilson now, so she’s happy. And she said I was the first person she wanted to tell. But I’m not sure if everything’s really quite right between us yet.” I stop. I don’t want to rehash this.
“Things like that can take time, Nessie,” Mom says. “But she’s like a sister to you. You need to talk until it’s all out.”
Grampie nods. “Life’s too short for regrets.”
If anyone else said that, I’d mock it.
“I’ll try,” I say.
We munch on our pizza, and I feel a little bit okay.
I still have my family, and now I have a new kind of color.
That night, in bed, I let my thoughts drift back to what I said about Nick today. I’m not sure why I said it. I don’t think of him as a girl. Not at all. He’s Nick.
All I wanted to do was show that lady that boundaries are nothing. That everything doesn’t have to be all neat and organized and normal to be good. Like a Pollock painting, all messy and beautiful and saying something just by being there.
Life can be like that.
Can’t life be like that?
Thirteen
I walk to school on Monday wearing an orange string, only two steps up from black.
Nick isn’t waiting at the door.
That’s a huge first.
I think of Grampie and what he said about regrets.
That applies to Nick as much as it does to Holly.
I find him at lunch, at some random table.
He keeps his head down.
“Nick, look,” I say. “Look at me.”
He doesn’t.
“I don’t want things to be messed up between us. Look, Nick.” I hold up my wrist. “Orange.” He looks at me now. “I’m sorry for being stupid yesterday,” I whisper.
“You should be,” he says.
“I am,” I say. “I really am,
“I’d be thrilled with shows at the Ballard Collective. I hope I can get there.”
“You can,” she says. “You will. Just trust yourself.”
I take my hot chocolate and walk home, teeny buds of inspiration blooming through the electric storm inside me.
* * *
I go to my room, throw on my splattered tank dress, and run to the garage to spray again.
This time, I use the wall. The inside of the garage. First, I move my drop cloth to cover up the parts of Grampie’s Chevy that are closest to where I’m working. He’d never forgive me if I messed up his car.
There’s not enough wall to get out everything I’m feeling.
Red hearts. Holly. Blue question marks. Nick. Sweeps of black with a nozzle that make it look gray. Spraying and spraying and spraying.
I stand back and look at my work, which didn’t feel like work at all. It felt like the burst I needed. It’s all about worry over Nick and Holly, and that’s real, but there’s this other thing in me now. This thing that says my trouble with them is not undoable.
I grab the yellow and make a sun up in the corner.
The spray paint got all over my dress. I smile to myself over adding new splotches to it from doing something that felt so right. It also got on my skin. So I cool down with a long shower.
Mom orders pizza for dinner, and when it shows up I join her and Grampie in the kitchen. I don’t know whatwill happen when one of them sees the garage. Maybe I should just tell them?
Grampie talks about the Greenwood Car Show, which is coming up. It’s kind of the highlight of his year. One of the few times he actually shows off his Chevy.
Eventually, Grampie says, “So how’s my workin’ girl? You enjoying punching the ol’ time card?”
“Yep,” I say. “I really like it.”
“That’s good, kiddo,” he says. “It’s good to earn some money.”
“Abso-snootly,” I say. I’m trying really hard to not let on that, really, I feel as if I’m losing my friends.
“Yeah,” Mom says. “You haven’t been around much. You and Nick hung out today, right?”
“We went to the mall,” I say. “With Holly.” It should be happy news.
“That’s great!”
“Yeah.”
“I’m assuming she’s forgiven you.”
“I’m not sure. Things are going really well between her and Wilson now, so she’s happy. And she said I was the first person she wanted to tell. But I’m not sure if everything’s really quite right between us yet.” I stop. I don’t want to rehash this.
“Things like that can take time, Nessie,” Mom says. “But she’s like a sister to you. You need to talk until it’s all out.”
Grampie nods. “Life’s too short for regrets.”
If anyone else said that, I’d mock it.
“I’ll try,” I say.
We munch on our pizza, and I feel a little bit okay.
I still have my family, and now I have a new kind of color.
That night, in bed, I let my thoughts drift back to what I said about Nick today. I’m not sure why I said it. I don’t think of him as a girl. Not at all. He’s Nick.
All I wanted to do was show that lady that boundaries are nothing. That everything doesn’t have to be all neat and organized and normal to be good. Like a Pollock painting, all messy and beautiful and saying something just by being there.
Life can be like that.
Can’t life be like that?
Thirteen
I walk to school on Monday wearing an orange string, only two steps up from black.
Nick isn’t waiting at the door.
That’s a huge first.
I think of Grampie and what he said about regrets.
That applies to Nick as much as it does to Holly.
I find him at lunch, at some random table.
He keeps his head down.
“Nick, look,” I say. “Look at me.”
He doesn’t.
“I don’t want things to be messed up between us. Look, Nick.” I hold up my wrist. “Orange.” He looks at me now. “I’m sorry for being stupid yesterday,” I whisper.
“You should be,” he says.
“I am,” I say. “I really am,
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