Misinterpreting Fate (Book 2)

10. Jerks

Chapter 10: Jerks

Sam

When the bell rang ending lunch, I waited as students started filing into the art room. Most of them I knew already. This was one of the advanced classes, so we all pretty much took the same level classes over the last two years.

There was one face, however, that I was not expecting to see. It was the new kid Courtney had pointed out. He was standing in the doorway, looking around the room until Miss Randi walked up to him.

I couldn't hear what they were saying - not that I was trying to listen in. But then Miss Randi called my name and pointed to me. I froze as they walked over.

"I figured out what you can do," Miss Randi said to me. "Grant here is a new student. I want you to help him around the room. Show him where things are and how things work around here, okay? Just for now."

I nodded and the new kid - Grant - sat down next to me. He didn't say anything to me, and I wasn't sure how to start a conversation. I was actually very intimidated by him and not just because of his looks. Talking to people I didn't know was hard.

"You're Sam, right?" he asked in a deep voice that sent a shiver down my spine.

I nodded. "Hi."

"I'm going to tell you this so that you don't waste your time. I don't want to be here. I actually hate art. So don't bother helping me. I'm going to switch out of this class."

"Oh." What did I even say to that?

The bell signalling the start of class rang, effectively stopping any further attempts at a conversation between Grant and me. Miss Randi stood at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to quiet down before she could start talking.

"Welcome back to art class everyone," she said. "I hope everyone had a fabulous summer. We're going to get right back into the swing of things today. We'll be doing a free paint. So grab a canvas, some brushes and paints, and get going. You have until the end of the period to paint whatever you'd like."

Free painting I could probably manage. I usually did people or buildings, but I could probably do a landscape painting today. That would be easier to do with the limited mobility of my wrist.

Everyone had already gotten out of their seats and started moving around the classroom, collecting their supplies. Grant hadn't moved though.

"The canvases are up front," I told him. "Paints and brushes are in the back."

"Do you think I care?"

I opened my mouth, no words coming out. I couldn't understand how anyone could be so rude to someone trying to help them. I mean, sure, he didn't want to be in this class, but he didn't have to be a jerk about it.

I stood up and headed for the front of the room to grab my own canvas. With one in my hand, I looked back at Grant. He was still sitting at the table, but now he had pulled his phone out and was texting someone. Who did this guy think he was?

I grabbed an extra canvas for him anyway. I told Miss Randi I was going to help Grant out, so that's what I was going to do.

I placed the second canvas down on the table in front of Grant. He didn't even look up as I put down my own canvas on my side. I was back a couple minutes later with my paint and brushes - I didn't bother getting any for him since I didn't know what he would paint.

About halfway through the period, my hand was throbbing in pain, but my painting wasn't looking half bad. Grant hadn't even gotten up yet, which Miss Randi didn't seem to notice. She was going around to each table, but hadn't gotten to ours yet.

When she did, the first thing she asked was why Grant hadn't started.

"No one told me where the paints are."

I dropped my brush, getting paint on my jeans. I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to start an argument.

"Sam?" Miss Randi asked. "Can you show Grant to the paints?"

I sighed, getting to my feet. "Come on," I said quietly. "I'll show you."

Miss Randi smiled at me before walking away. That's when Grant pulled his phone out again.

"I'm not getting up," he muttered. "Get them for me."

"No."

He looked at me. "What did you just say to me?"

I took a deep breath before picking my brush off the floor. It had dust on it. Now I needed another one.

"I said no," I told him with a burst of confidence. "That's not how this class works. I can show you where everything is, but it's your painting, not mine. I can't choose your paints for you."

Before he could retort, I walked to the back of the room to pick out a new brush. He didn't follow me, so I walked back to his seat. It's not my fault if he doesn't want to do his work. I would just have to make sure I cleared that up with Miss Randi at the end of the period before Grant tries to tell her something else.

When the period finally ended, I hadn't quite finished my painting but, considering the state of my hand, I'd say I did decently well. I had drawn a river flowing through a forest. If you backed up and squinted, you could kinda tell what it was. Yeah... definitely not my best work.

"Sam?" Miss Randi called over the students heading out of the classroom. "I want to talk to you for a second before you leave."

I glanced over at Grant's blank canvas. He had gone to the bathroom ten minutes ago and never came back. I really didn't know what his problem was.

"You did pretty good today," she said when I approached her desk. "I'm proud of you."

I shrugged. "You can barely tell what it is."

"But that's art for you." She smiled. "Interpretation at its finest. Now..." she looked around the room to see that everyone had left, "about Grant. I appreciate you trying to help him. I did notice you trying. So thank you."

"He said he was going to drop the class."

She sighed. "I don't know about that. I think he's going to be here for the rest of the year."

I felt like she knew things that I wasn't supposed to know about his situation, so I didn't ask. I didn't want to ask. Instead, I asked, "Do I have to sit next to him for the rest of the year? He's not the nicest person..."

"I'll see what I can do. Now go, before you're late to your next class."

I smiled. "Thanks Miss Randi."

In the hallway, I hurried through the mostly-empty halls to my next class. I was just about to round a corner when I heard two familiar voices. I paused just out of their sight, having heard my name come up.

"It was about Sam, wasn't it?" Ryan was saying.

Shawn scoffed. "What about Sam?"

"He thinks you hate him."

"Who wouldn't hate a faggot like him?"

The words stung but, if I knew Ryan at all, I knew what was coming next. I ran around the corner just in time to see Ryan's fist pulled back and ready to strike. "Ryan, don't!"

He froze. "Sam. You don't know what he said. Let me do this."

I kept my eyes on Ryan, unable to look at Shawn. "I heard. Please don't, Ryan. He's not worth getting expelled over."

Slowly, Ryan lowered his arm, shaking his head.

"I don't know how you can still defend him," Shawn said. "He's lied to us. He's still lying to us. He won't even tell us how he broke his hand. Is that someone you really want to be friends with, Ryan?"

Ryan looked at me. "Yeah. Because Sam is a much better person than you will ever be." He looked back at Shawn. "And I'm not finished with you. If I see you outside of school, you're dead."

I grabbed Ryan's arm, pulling him away, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. Today officially sucked.