Head Above Water

8. Revelations

Monday morning after Pre-Calc I stopped by my locker on the way to Creative Writing, figuring I’d grab my dance stuff to save some passing time later. When I opened my locker door, I noticed a folded sheet of thick paper inside. Confused, I opened it to see an ink drawing of me. After a moment, I realized it must’ve been Rick’s portrait from class.

Unlike Connor, who’d drawn a full-body portrait, Rick had focused only on my face. The entire page was a close-up portrait from my shoulders up. He’d drawn my face and the curve of my neck with delicate, graceful lines and instead of a nervous expression I looked more meditative or thoughtful.

I smiled a bit, thinking that the way he’d drawn me, I actually looked quite pretty. Does he really see me this way? No. He’s probably just embellishing on life to be more artistic. I couldn’t help but be flattered though.

I studied the picture again. He’d somehow turned my flaws into attractive, unique features—like the fact that the right side of my mouth curved down at the corner while the left side didn’t. My smile had always been crooked and as I grew older, it had actually changed the curve of my mouth.

I heaved a tired sigh, not knowing what I should do about those boys—or that boy. My mind urged me to stay away from him/them for the hundredth time, but the rest of me just didn’t have the discipline to do it. They were both this alluring mystery that I couldn’t resist trying to unravel. Malcolm was this enigmatic puzzle, alluring and almost mesmerizing, while Rick was a closed book wrapped with barbed wire and an iron lock, but its cover depicted an endearing vulnerability within.

            When I got to class my eyes immediately shot to Rick’s/Malcolm’s desk, which had somehow become my morning routine. This morning he seemed to be deep in thought, sitting with his back ramrod straight, his elbows on the desktop and his hands clasped together in front of his chin.

            I sat down quietly and studied him while he seemed to be unaware. For the first time I wondered what his home life was like. What caused someone to have multiple personalities? Wasn’t it usually something traumatic? I felt sorry for him again and ashamed for all my prying. I wasn’t any less curious, of course, but it made more sense why he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

            “What’s on your mind, Miss Stewart?” Malcolm asked quietly without turning to look at me.

            I jumped a little, not realizing he even knew I was there. “I could ask the same of you,” I responded questioningly.

            He turned to look at me then and smiled a little, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But you know I won’t answer that.”

            I shrugged. “Always hoping.”

            He turned back to the front and I thought he’d gone back into the zone when he said, ever so quietly. “Death.” My mind froze. Of all the answers he could have given, I would never have expected that—maybe from Rick since he was so angry all the time, but not from Mal.

            Class began, but I was stuck in another world entirely, dwelling on the mystery sitting beside me. When the bell rang, Mal and I both gathered our things silently and headed toward the dance room together. His face was blank, giving me little indication of what was going on behind those molten eyes, and he wasn’t looking at me. I somehow knew he was working something out in his mind, so I kept silent.

            Suddenly I felt a firm smack on my behind and I whirled around to see some brawny upperclassman with too much gel in his hair leering at me. “Baby, that booty’s lookin’ fine,” he drawled. I switched my backpack to my other shoulder and wound my hand back to punch the raunchy jerk in the chin as he continued. “You wanna meet me behind the—“.