Watercolors (B.A.)

Chapter Ten

Michelangelo

By Wednesday, October twelfth, Brandon was thoroughly freaked out. He was back to the Brandon he was when Amina first met him—closed off and cold. His nose was always buried in his sketchbook. When Amina joined him in the art room after school, he barely spoke. Amina missed the fun, spontaneous Brandon that she had learned to like so much.

As Amina sat in the art room across from Brandon, she sighed. It had been a week of his craziness, and she knew she would have to endure another two days of it. She pulled out her rented laptop, normally despising writing on it, but decided she had no other option.

Her fingers clicked away on the old keyboard, recently filed nails audible against the keys. She got so caught up in typing that she didn't notice Brandon looking at her. He attempted to continue painting, making large strokes with his paintbrush and then dipping it in a large carton of water. Amina was already slightly upset because he refused to let her see his painting. Eventually, Brandon cleared his throat. Amina's eyes flicked up.

"What?"

"Can you not do that?" Brandon's tone reeked with annoyance. "I can't concentrate."

"I'm just typing." Amina was not here for Brandon's attitude.

"You're loud. And I'm trying to work. This is due in two days, and you know that."

"So?"

"Like I said, I'm trying to work.  I can't create good art with you over there slamming your claws against the keyboard."

Amina slammed her laptop closed, feeling a sudden surge of anger course through her body. She had no idea what had gotten into Brandon, but she was not about to sit there and be his punching bag.

"Listen, I know you have your midterm. We all fucking know that you have your midterm. That doesn't give you any excuse to be an utter ass. You've barely talked to me in two weeks except to yell or remind me that you have your stupid midterm. So shut up about it already! I'm your friend, and I'm here for you and all, but don't treat me like trash just because you're going through a hard time."

Brandon's eyes were wide by the time Amina was done, hard breaths laboring her body. He had never seen her this angry before, and frankly, it terrified him. He punched himself internally.

"Amina, I'm sorry."

Amina sniffled. "No, don't. My mom's here. I'll see you tomorrow."

She rushed to fit her stuff into her backpack and leave the art room. By the time she launched herself into her mother's car, she was thoroughly embarrassed. She never let herself lash out like that. And now she had, right in front of Brandon.

"What's wrong with you, lovely?" Her mother seemed genuinely concerned.

"Nothing, Ma. I'm just tired."

"You know you can tell me if anything's-"

"Mama, I'm fine. I said I'm just tired." Amina cut her mother off, an action she expected to get scolded for. Her mom seemed to understand, however, and let Amina off with a curt nod of the head.

.        .         .

By eight o'clock that night, Amina had her nose buried in her AP English book. Sci-fi wasn't exactly her favorite genre, and she found herself being easily disturbed by the gory descriptions of Frankenstein. The phone resting in her baby pink sheets buzzed twice. Amina was quick to find it and answer the incoming call.

"Hello?"

"Hey Mimi," Nick said softly. "How're you doing?"

Amina's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm fine. Why?"