I'm wondering if Winston is pining after me. I'm faking humility because it makes me seem like a better person, but the truth is I'm well aware that he is pining after me. I can tell by the way he's stared at me with his dumb puppy eyes all week and keeps trying to gesture to talk alone with me.
stop calling. I text him. I really don't want to have to block him, it seems a bit much.
"Maybe you should talk to him, then." Cole says absently, holding a spinning lump of clay as it violently attempts to wriggle free from their grip. I'm desperately trying to block oncoming clay-spray with the flat of my book. The wheel slows down as Cole lifts their foot off the pedal to inspect something on the lump. It just looks like clay to me, but I guess that's why I don't take Pottery. In fact, I'm pretty horrific at most things that require artistic ability. I only hang around the art room because this is where Cole spends most of their free time these days. Ever since Nick and his fucking goons started to become more vocal and violent instead of just annoying.
"Yeah, well." I huff, "I don't want to do that, do I?"
"Okay, then block him. Can you get that hair out of my eyes?"
I use my clean hands to tuck a strand of their white-blonde hair behind their ear. "That seems so mean, though."
Cole says nothing. They give me a pointed look, though. You know the look - the raised eyebrows, pursed lips, shut-your-goddamn-mouth look. I sigh, exasperated.
Even though I know I could whine about it for hours, I decide to change the subject. "How's your grandma going?"
They snort, "Still only speaks to me in verses from the bible. When she remembers who I am." They add. I watch their face for a moment. Obviously, I take too long to say anything, because they say, "It's fine. I'm fine. She's barely even there most of the time."
"How much longer is she with you?" I ask. Cole's grandmother has to stay with their family for a few weeks while their aunt gets a retirement home sorted out. Having lived her entire conscious life strictly catholic (like, super catholic) and suffering from very fast progressing Alzheimer's, she isn't the most fun to be around.
"Mum said a week about two weeks ago." Their voice is very soft. I know they are trying not to let it bother them. They are the most level headed person I know - I could never dream of being as calm and collected as they are in a million years.
"You want to come over after school?" I ask.
They grin and it's like their whole face lights up. "Can I stay over?"
I cringe and they laugh at me. "I'm sorry," I groan, "It's not because they don't love you. You know how they are." Fun fact about me? I haven't ever had a sleepover. Ever. My parents are really that strict. I've gotten Cole's mum to try to talk to them, other friend's parents to talk to them over the years, even my third grade teacher to talk to them. They won't budge about it. As soon as dinner is over, guests are gone. It's embarrassing at this point. I mean, I'm almost eighteen years old and I've never stayed the night at a friend's? Shameful.
My phone pings. "Speak of the devil." I say. It's my mum.
Don't forget to return that book today xx
God, she's even monitoring my library account, now.
"I better head to the library." I check my watch and inwardly curse. I've spent most of my free period in the art room. This place is like a black hole - devoid of all time and space.
"Oh, can you return something for me? It's in my bag." Cole cranes their neck to gesture to the satchel behind them. I loudly push off my stool and rummage through a lot of empty candy wrappers and miscellaneous bottom-of-bag objects before I find the book they mean. It's some windswept romance with a shirtless man on the cover.
"The Duke's Dare?" I tease, shoving it into my bag.
They press their lips together to suppress a smile. "Shut up. It was okay."
"Could've fooled me."
"Get out of here!" They flick one hand in my direction and a clump of mud flings to the floor in front of me, a warning.
"Love you, too." I sing over my shoulder, scrambling to escape further attack.
YOU ARE READING
this didn't go as originally planned
AdventureMary-Lin's parents knew for a fact that Mary-Lin was in her bedroom, practicing the cello just like she had done every night after dinner for the past four years. There was absolutely no chance that she was, say, on a sinking row boat in Guam with h...
