I Drew You Once in Art Class

Sixteen

Gerard's car was the coolest car Frank had ever seen.

No, it wasn't a Lamborghini or a Mercedes or a Tesla. It was a bright red, beat-up slug bug, a large dent in its rear and the back window streaked with dust. Frank was in love with it instantly. He was standing there, admiring it before he remembered he had a curfew to abide by. He opened the passenger's side, sitting on the soft, gray fabric, still heated by the fading sun. "It's not much, I know-" Gerard started.

"I love it." Frank cut him off.

And he did.

Frank knew his way home from the school (where Gerard's car was parked) quite well; he'd been walking there and back for 2 years. He guided Gerard on where to go.

Right, straight, left, left, right.

He was there. He could see Gerard checking out his house when he climbed out of the car, thanked Gerard, and shut the door. He checked his phone. Two minutes over curfew. He inhaled, walking  to his front door and opening it, hoping for the best. His mom was sitting in the living room, maybe 3 feet away from the door. "Where have you been, Frank? Whose car was that? I was starting to get worried."

She didn't look worried. She looked pissed.

"Out with... a friend," he said, pulling off his hoodie.

"What friend? Boy or girl? And dear lord, Frank, please wash that shirt, it smells like Millie took a shit on it."

Millie the dog popped her head up curiously at the mention of her name before setting it down again to rest upon her paws. "I know Mom, I will tonight. The friend was a boy." Frank's mom seemed satisfied. "Tell me all about him after you wash that god-awful shirt, please.

This made Frank realize something.

Gerard hadn't even commented on the smell of Frank's shirt.

He had danced with him, had had him less than two inches away, and was still kind enough not to mention the crusty dog odor radiating from the fabric.

Interesting.