41. Here Comes the Sun

Oh man.

“I can’t tell you what I’m painting,” I tell her.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal. It’s private.”

“Your painting is private?” she says.

“It is.”

“Why?”

“Okay, fine. You want to know what I’m painting? Seriously?”

Kelsey smiles. I’ve grown to find her clear braces cute just like her smile and just like those pretty blue eyes.

Oh man, come on.

“This is a family portrait. See, there, I told you.”

“That bad, huh?” she says, going with my mockery.

“Totally. It’s awful. Just dark. That’s all I can say.”

She doesn’t know that there’s some truth in my concept, even though the piece in front of me is not a family portrait but rather is supposed to resemble those woods in the picture from Jocelyn’s locker. It looks a little more like a canvas that’s been blasted by a passing car hitting a puddle of dirty water.

“Maybe I need to introduce you to some more of my family,” she says.

Oh man.

Every day, every period I’m next to her, I find myself enjoying this banter. I like to see the smile on her face and love to hear her laugh at something stupid I said. I love the way she’s watching for me as I come into class, usually the last one in. It’s obvious, and I’m pretty sure she likes me and I know that it’s harmless and fun.

But another voice tells me to stop. Immediately. Do not pass Go and do not collect one more dollar.

I need to stop this, all of this.

Because you know what happened last time, don’t you?

When the crazy thoughts start going even crazier, I imagine things like Kelsey and me falling madly in love and then Jocelyn coming back, just like it happens in soap operas.

You’re not going to fall in love with this girl. She’s cute, but that’s all. That’s it.

I imagine getting close and then having something happen to her.

I imagine that maybe she’s getting closer to find out secrets about me and to win me over so she can lie and steal from me. Not that I have any secrets or anything to steal from.

All I know is that this is harmless and safe and fun. It’s like waking up in the cold fog every day and then for a single period, I’m allowed to go outside and sit underneath a crystal clear sky and soak up the sun.

Kelsey Page is that sun, and it’s not just because of the color of her hair.

That’s fine, but don’t tell her that, because she’ll roll her eyes and surely make a gagging sound.

Every day the sun comes out and shines down, and then I have to leave it and go back into the drab and the murk.