Me, Me & You

Chapter 8

"Archie!" I called out. Several people turned to look at me, but up ahead I spotted his ruffled, brown hair. Beaming, I ran up to him, dodging people as they passed from class to class and hugged my sketchbook into my chest to avoid it getting damaged.

"Good morning!" I said, unable to diminish my enthusiastic grin. He returned the greeting with a big smile of his own.

Last night we video called while I was on the verge of a sobbing mess. My math assignment was pages long and I just didn't get factorials. While Archie plucked away on the strings of his guitar, he would guide me through my math homework, telling me what to put into my calculator and what to leave as a variable answer. He barely lifted his eyes away from his fingers when giving me explanations. In the end, we both got something out of the call: he got a new riff and I got all my homework done with time left over.

Vampire going missing also improved my mood. The explanation that Twiggy and Teeth gave to the teachers was that she "tripped down the stars and was in the hospital," which nobody believed because a rumor went around that she had mono. But with one third of their group going AWOL, their antics quieted. Their voices dropped to a few hushed conversations during art class and their antics dwindled to one weak side-swipe a day. Things were looking good for me.

Archie and I entered the classroom and readied our easels to continue the new still-life piece. Instead of charcoal, this sketch involved a variety of graphite pencils—"A Study in 2B, 4B, and 6B Hardness." I already liked this assignment more than the charcoal sketch because pencil didn't leave smudges over my clothes like charcoal, but it did leave a silvery patch on the edge of my hand—by the Mount of Mercury if my palmistry phase in middle school served me well.

Mrs. Hong already set up the scene: a glass ewer filled with water and several branches of silk daffodils.

"I really prefer real daffodils. Real flowers are better. They have flaws, but we need them to last long enough to draw so...," she sighed as she set up the display. Though it's uncool to think positive of a teacher, I thought Mrs. Hong was really sweat. I liked the care that she put into each little thing.

The petals of my daffodils looked way too crisp and geometrically precise for flowers, so perhaps Mrs. Hong had a point about fakes, but a plausible explanation was that I sucked at drawing.

Several students had already had their pencils out and were getting a head start. Their pencils flitted and scratched on the rough drawing paper, but for me, I held the soft, earwax-looking eraser in my hand, ready to start anew.

Today, relaxing jazz music played over the speaker. Jazz music and the creative ambiance made me imagine curling up in an urban coffee house. Maybe by my side, I'd have a giant, sugary latte as I typed away on my computer, structuring my latest essay assignment. Or maybe I'd be a professional poet and use the coffee shop as a place to work. I didn't write poetry, but it would be cool if I did!

"What are you smiling about?" Archie teased.

"I'm just thinking of how I want to leave this place," I said wistfully. "Don't you hate it here?"

I looked up at him to see him making his face unintentional, sad-puppy face.

"What? I thought you were happy?" He said, his eyes looked almost pained.

"No, I am happy! Just don't you ever dream of leaving Iowa?" I asked.

He rubbed his head. "No, I guess I never thought I'd leave."

"What? Not even for college?" I asked with some surprise. Archie didn't seem like a small-town boy to me, but he shook his head.

"I don't know if I can afford to go out of state for college." He looked away suddenly, as if ashamed to admit it.