The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S2 E6.3: Unusual Artists

Brayden's POV

I look across the tables at Deion's work again, seeing that he's almost finished with the leaves of the tree he's on. He's now in this peculiar stage where he's teetering between just being content and holding his stone exterior. I notice a smile break through every once in a while, but it fades whenever he remembers where he is—or maybe who he is.

"That's looking really good," I say.

"Thanks," Deion responds.

"You might have to join theatre club now," I tease.

"I'll pass. I'm not a geek."

"Being a geek is pretty fun," I justify. "Comes with a lot of friends."

"I have friends," he argues.

I nod. "Right. The boys who help you pick on me."

He pauses for a moment before muttering, "Yeah."

There's a long quiet where he continues painting, his eyes softening into a deep dreary blue like the bottom of the ocean, a place I've never seen before in him, which keeps my curious gaze locked tight.

"What's it like having a group like this?" he asks after a moment.

"Well, I'm pretty new," I start, "but it's automatic support whenever you need it. It's also very embarrassing trips to the Denny's down the street."

Deion actually chuckles at that. I don't think I've ever seen him laugh in a way that wasn't a snicker before.

"If I wanted to be a nerd," he says, "I'd consider this."

"I'd argue that being mean isn't much better than being a nerd."

I'm noticing a pattern now. Whenever I mention how he usually treats me, he gets achingly quiet. But given a couple minutes to recollect himself, Deion speaks up again.

"Hey, Gayden," he says in a gentle, genuine tone, "what was that book you had today?"

I do notice the nickname, but I'm also starting to conclude that he must not be comfortable using my real name, for whatever reason. And I don't mind. I'd have to be made of glass for something like that to still bug me.

"Anne of Green Gables," I answer. Then I add, "I didn't realize you cared what I read."

"I only noticed 'cause my mom has that book," he explains. He waits another second before asking, "Is it good?"

"Very."

"I'll have to check it out."

He smiles but turns his eyes down to his painting again, and the two of us quietly start gathering our brushes and palettes to clean up for the evening.

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Buffy's POV

I was reluctant about Amber's solution at first, but seeing the Barbie head stuck to the top of the sculpture on the pedestal, I'm now just disappointed. This is a terrible solution, but there isn't really a better one.

"This looks like one of Cara's Barbies," I say.

"Yeah, she leaves the heads in my purse sometimes to scare me," Amber explains.

"Should we be taking her to a therapist?" Marty brings up.

Before I can, respond, footsteps turn my attention to the far hallway.

"Someone's coming," I say.

The three of us dash for the opposite exit from the footsteps, leaving our masterpiece of clay, tape, and doll on display.