Better Than This

13

"Sure I haven't won my fifty bucks?"

Savvy stands in the doorway, sporting the tiniest pair of shorts imaginable. She's paired them with a baseball tee that she cut into a mid-riff and, forgoing her typical fishnets, her legs are bare and accentuated by the length of her jean shorts, a simple pair of tennis shoes rounding off the barely-there feeling.

She obviously wants to impress. Too bad the boys are gone, and this is all for me. I step aside, smirking at her comment. "I'm sure. Since nothing's happened."

"Yet." She walks into the house, her black and blonde bun bouncing. She knows Alex and Corey are gone, but she still heads for my room, and I'm right on her tail, preparing myself for the onslaught of questions. Plopping down on my comforter, she opens her mouth but then spots something in the corner.

"Autumn." She heads for the easel and leans in, bringing her face inches from the canvas. "This is turning out so good."

"Thanks. All those nights in here having no life."

"It's working."

"I should really be a lot farther than I am." I move next to her, frowning at the painting. "This piece is due next week. I still have all of the hair; this whole part—"

"This isn't for the portfolio?"

"Well, it is, but this is the piece I'm doing for the Frida Kahlo contest."

"Oh. Yeah. What's the theme again?"

"'Who I really am.'" I gesture to the painting, hoping it's as obvious to everyone else as it is to me. But maybe it isn't. When she still hasn't responded, I take it upon myself to explain. "So, it's me. In colors. Painting more colors." I wait for her to say something. "Because I—I'm a painter at heart."

Savvy nods again, her eyes jumping all around it. She doesn't say anything for another moment and the unease grows. Maybe she didn't get that at all. Maybe it just comes off as narcissistic, and I should scrap the whole thing.

She stands back up. "You're so talented. There's no way you're not going to art school."

"Don't say that. You'll jinx me."

"Fine." She rolls her eyes. "You're never getting in."

"Don't say that either."

"Well," Savvy spins, sitting on the bed again, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Say you'll tell me if you think I can do better." I glance at my canvas, already wanting to redo half of it. I need every piece in my portfolio to be the best they can be when I apply next year, and I'll need my best friend's back for that. "Just let me know if you know I can do better. Okay?"

"Sure. You can count on me to tell you it sucks."

"Thanks."

"Can we talk about Alex now?"

My heart pounds faster. Turning away, I feel a full-body blush. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything! Like why was he over here? Were you working on the project—is that what you were doing?"

"No."

"Then why was he here?"

"I told you," I drag my finger along my dresser, focused on the dust, "his friend Corey likes cars and he's going to work on mine. It's going to be like, a new project for him. He got all excited over it. You should've seen him."

Savvy blinks. "So, all three of you hung out here while he worked on it?"

"Not...exactly." I clear my throat, already knowing how she's going to react. I could lie about what we did, but she always knows when I'm lying. I meander toward my closet on the far side of the room, brushing the dust from my finger. "Corey stayed here to work on the car and Alex and I...went shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Grocery shopping. Yeah." I glance at her. "That's how the whole dinner thing happened. He threw all this stuff in the cart and said we were making a salad. I thought he was asking me on a date at first, but then he mentioned Corey—"

"This is a date!" She jumps to her feet, her crazed eyes wide and fierce. "Don't you get it? This is his corny way of asking you out without actually asking you out! You know, to like, test the waters."

"You think?"

"Uh—yeah."

"I don't know. I think he just wants to be friends."

"Doubtful." She crosses her arms as a smile emerges. "Why? Are you interested in testing the waters?"

The truth is—I am interested, but I've gotten no solid sign of interest from him. Not when he turned our date into a hangout. Not when he stung me in the kitchen over the hot comment. So why admit to something when the whole thing seems implausible anyway? But now, thanks to my lengthy hesitation, I don't have to admit to anything.

"Look, I get it." She walks toward me. "He's hot. And in a band. I mean, what's not to like?"

"It's not even that."

The instant I say the words I wish I hadn't. My face burns and I look down, trying to figure out what I meant because I know Savvy's going to ask.

Thankfully, she doesn't.

"Well, whatever it is, you need to know what you're getting into. This world—this punk rock world—it's different from the one you're used to. There's going to be drugs and sex and lots of grown-up stuff you don't like to think about." She pegs me with a look, willing me to understand. "For real. And what makes it worse is that your boy is in a band. And not just any band. Chronic Rage. They're supposedly, like, the shit."

"So...what are you saying?"

Savvy exhales, sorry to give me the news. "The road will get bumpy."

"Okay?"

"And probably pretty shitty at times."

"Okay."

"Like, you're going to be crying and eating a ton of ice-cream kind of shitty."

"You've made your point."

"But I will be with you." She walks over and takes my hands in hers. "I promise. I'll be there to help you get through it all. All the bad times. All of it."

"Savvy."

"But it will be okay." She squeezes my hands. "Because you won't go through it alone. And I'll keep reminding you that everything will be okay."

I give her a pointed look. "And how do you know everything will be okay?"

She shrugs, the answer obvious. "It's a lovestory."