Perfect by Design

30: Kiara James

There's a knock on my bedroom door; it's probably time to go.

"Almost done," I call out.

"Could I come in?" The voice sounds from the other side of my door.

I freeze momentarily. It's been radio silence since everything went down. And honestly, I get it. A lot happened in such a short period. At least, that's what it looks like on the surface. So I got the need for space. I understood needing time to process everything.

Walking over to the door, I will myself to keep my expectations low. Other people are not responsible for the version of them you create, and I try to keep that in mind these days.

I open the door and allow my eyes a moment to settle. I can't help the smile that creeps on my face.

"Of course, we're somehow still matching." Malia throws her arms around me, and being in my best friend's arms is a relief I didn't even know I needed.

It's graduation day. We never did make it shopping, but we've been practically one person since we were six. My soft yellow A-line dress with skinny spaghetti straps stops just below my knees. At the same time, Malia sports a pale yellow thin-strap A-line dress with her back out. We honestly couldn't match more if we'd tried.

"I wish you'd told me, Ki." She pulls me tighter into her, and I let my head fall onto her shoulder.

"I didn't know how to talk about it. That's what... Jayden. I didn't know how to talk about it, but he didn't have to hear the words to get it, and that's why— I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I was just shocked. And honestly, Jay gets everything. He's the golden Greene, and I just... the thought of him having you too— I panicked."

"I wasn't choosing him over you, Mali. Not that any of it matters anymore." I trail off.

"It matters, Ki, but it's not my place. You and Jay's relationship is between you and Jay, but I think, maybe you should talk to him."

I pull away from her and look into the mirror, twirling one of my curls around my finger to give it more definition.

"I'm going to miss you and D so much. Stanford isn't ready for you guys."

"You got in, Ki. You're valedictorian. I'm sure they'd give you your spot back if you wanted it."

"That's the thing, Mal. I don't want it. I may not know exactly what it is that I want, but I know what I don't want."

"Hi, girls." My mom walks in smiling. "You guys look as beautiful as ever. Can I borrow my daughter for a second, Malia?"

"Of course, Ms. Liv. I need to go meet my parents, but text me when you get there, Ki."

My mom walks up to me and brushes the back of my hand across her face. Her eyes are already glossy. She's an emotional one, my mom.

"You still want to make that stop before heading out?"

"Yeah, mom. Daddy is going to come, right?"

The drive to the studio is eerily quiet. Jayden is the only one who's seen my art. It feels sort of sacred, like a channel into the rawest form of myself to ever exist.

I wonder if they'll ask questions or if they'll need me to walk them through the images. Will they be able to read the story—to feel the torment?

We walk into the studio, and I still. Every single painting I've done hangs on the walls. Tears form, and my breath catches in my throat. When did he do this? Does he really consider my work display worthy?