Masterpiece

Chapter 11

My fingers trace where his lips had been, where his hands had been. I'm shocked to say the least. My mind is boggled, my stomach filled with butterflies, and my mind with wonder. John stands as a mystery that I simply could not decipher.

-

"Have a nice day," I say to the kids as they rush out with drowsy looking adults. John walks in the room and kneels down, arms wide. Sophie jumps in to them and he hoists her up, while rustling her hair. She laughs wildly. Their relationship is adorable.

"Hey, I want to show you something," I say. He follows me after putting down Sophie.

"I finished the painting and I think I've outdone myself." I yank a white sheet away and reveal the Mona Lisa. She gives me a crooked smile.

"Wow. This is...amazing. I bet you could sell this off as the original and no one could tell the difference." His eyes scan over the portrait.

"Yeah, well, you actually inspired me." I think of how he compared me to the Mona Lisa. How he had meant it, the way it came off his lips. Snippets of the moment flash in my mind.

He grins. "How long did this take you?"

"Several hours." A yawn escapes and I just want to collapse and let sleep carry me away.

"You should get some rest. Call me, though."

"But I don't have your number." I barely can get the words out before my eyelids begin to fall. John carries me to a blanket on the floor. He was the last thing I saw when I finally closed my eyes.

-

It was 6:50 when I woke up. I felt refreshed, but I was also a nervous wreck. Knots formed in my stomach.
What if I don't complete this week? They'll send me back. But what if they don't? What then?

That's what really scared me. What if I go through all of this and still amount to nothing? I push the thoughts out of my mind.

A thin piece of paper flaps on the window. I walk over to it. In black ink, a number is written. A smiley face is scribbled over the name, John.

"Yellow," he says after I dial the number.

"You stuck your number to the window?" I turn around, my back facing the window.

"Yeah. Good idea right." I can tell that he's grinning through the phone. "I'm outside."

"Why?"

"You know it's like five minutes to seven right." Oh crap.

"I so knew that."
"Yeah, ok." The phone clicks off.

I heave the painting in my arms and carry it out the door. I shove it through the back seat and hop in.

His foot pushes down the pedal and we speed off. Here goes nothing. The last painting. The. Last. Painting. Those words swarm like bees around my brain.

"Cross your fingers," I say as we approach the school. I step out of the car and pull out the painting. John crosses his fingers and winks at me before I head through the door.

When I enter the interior I can't help but smirk at the woman. She thought I wasn't going to make it this far. Like I was just like the others.

I set my work down in front of her.
"I told you I would surprise you."

She didn't seem too convinced that I did with the look she shot me. "Don't get cocky yet, the clock is still ticking." I swear it's like this lady wants me to fail. I wouldn't be so shocked if she did.

When I got in the car, John had a weird look on his face. Like a cross between anxious and concerned.
"What?" I say.

"Ramona, when I say this to you I just want you to hear me out. Just take it one word at a time." I was starting to feel anxious and concerned myself.

"Ok?" I give him an unsure look.

"I want you to visit your parents.

Well. I did what he said. I took it one word at a time. I did even better than that. I took it by each syllable, but still it rested heavy and uneasily on my heart.

I. Want. You. To. Visit. Your. Parents.
Visit. Your. Parents.

I didn't like those mix of words. I love them so much, but I think going back is too much right now. My mother is not going to respond how I would want her to. I don't need her resenting me, making me feel guilty about my decision.

Why would he want to do this? Why did he care?

"So?"
"No. I don't want to." My voice was colder than I had wanted it to be.

"Please. I mean, it'll be good for you. And plus I kind've want to meet them."

I didn't want him to. They would think of him as nothing more than a distraction.

"No, John." He gripped the steering wheel and sighed. Then he looked at me. I mean he really looked at me. With those same deep pools of blueish green. His stare was so intensely worry full, it scared me.

"Why do you care so much. Why does it matter whether I go to see my parents or not?"

"Because, Mona, I don't want you to end up like me. There's not a day in my life that I don't regret not talking to my mom and dad. I haven't said not one word to them since I ran away. And that was over five years ago. No matter how much you think you don't need them, no matter how much you think they don't need you, you will always need each other." He says this without a strain in his voice. So calmly. The situation is tense but he is not.

I feel almost bad for declining. My brain and my heart are in a battle and I don't know who's winning.

"Fine."
"What?"

I say it louder, "Fine. I'll go. But I thought you said we were going to stop making each other do things."

"And I thought you said no promises.
Connecticut right? Shouldn't be that long of a drive."

"Wait, we're going now? As in right at this moment?"

"Yep." We pull out of the parking lot and head to the highway.

I put my head against the window.
"Ramona." He nudges me from across the car.
"Cheer up." I look up and stick my tongue out at him.

He does the same and turns up the radio. The tunes fill the car and I start to wobble my head to the music. John laughs as I do it and also bobs his head so that we're doing it simultaneously on beat.

I chuckle out loud as we pull out more dance moves to the music. Any one that we could think of.

Our laughing was stopped short. The music all a blur. A short intake of breath right before another car collided along with us. I heard the sound of John scream.

Then I heard nothing.
I saw nothing.