Chapter Fifteen

Angela

Thursday evening, I sit in class, doodling in my notebook. My attention keeps slipping away from what Professor Truman is saying and I’m sure I will pay for that later. Thoughts of Logan and my mom swirl through my head and I can’t latch onto anything solid.

I actually asked Logan to come over tonight after class, but he said he was working all night. I was hoping to spend a little one on one time with him, away from other people. Maybe in the right setting, if it’s just us two, he would actually show me the real man behind the badge. Also, I wouldn’t be opposed to more of those kisses.

“Miss Lavelle, perhaps you’d like to chime in here?” Truman says.

The entire class turns their eyes to me and I have no idea what to say. I stare at him blankly, my cheeks burning, and shake my head.

“Okay, it seems Miss Lavelle has no opinion on the identity of Banksy. That’s okay, it’s all theory anyway. Some believe that Banksy isn’t one person, but a collective of people. I find it fascinating that in this day and age, someone is able to keep their anonymity this long. But let’s talk more about what Banksy is doing—what he’s bringing to the table as far as protest art goes.”

I duck my head to hide my blushing face and make myself pay attention for the rest of class. I take notes and mark which chapters I need to study for next week’s exam.

“Don’t forget to turn in the topic for your semester project on Monday,” Truman says as the class packs up to leave for the night. “You can work in any medium. I don’t care as long as it’s important to you and it speaks to others emotionally. That is the entire point of art,” he adds with a grin.

Panic sets in as I realize I have absolutely no direction for my project. I square my shoulders and approach Truman’s desk.

“What can I help you with, Angela?”

“You knew I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry. There’s so much…stuff going on with me lately. Did you call me out on purpose?”

“I did. I would have done it to any other student. I’m not singling you out.”

“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “I’m coming to you because I still have no clue what to do for my semester project and it’s starting to freak me out.”

Professor Truman kicks his feet up on the desk, crossing his ankles. For some reason, he looks much younger when he does this. “Well, what are you passionate about? Pollution? Feminism? Animal rights? Education?” he asks, gesturing to the now empty classroom.

“I care about all those things, but not with the kind of passion you’re talking about. I don’t want this to be forced, but I just can’t seem to find my inspiration.”

With his eyes on me, my mind flips back to thoughts of my dad, my mother locking herself in a house, Logan, this secret I’ve kept for years. That is what I’m passionate about. That is what drives me these days. Topics float in and out of my head, wondering how I can translate anything into a political statement piece.

Truman stands now and approaches me. “Angela, you’re a passionate girl. Just by knowing your father, I know this. There is something in here,” he says, jerking his thumb to his heart, “that will move you to paint. Sitting and staring at a blank canvas is not the way. Go out and be young and crazy. Live life. You’ll find your fire. Just make sure to pay attention, so you recognize it.”

I nod. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Anytime,” he answers. “Now, go forth and create.”

…

In the morning I do exactly what Truman told me not to do. I sit in front of a blank canvas and try to think up my semester project topic. It’s an hour before my butt goes numb and I give up. I’ve been putting off starting this project, but if I don’t get started soon, I’ll be rushing at the end of the semester. It’s supposed to be a personal protest piece—something that is important to me.

My brain spins and spins, looking for any idea to grab onto. But I am left with nothing. A knock on my front door saves me from my project for now.

“I brought beer and pizza. Who loves you?” Audrey announces, pushing past me to the kitchen.

“You do! But where did you find pizza this early?” I follow her to the table and laugh. “You cooked Pizza Rolls.”

“That’s right, kid.” She pops the top off of a bottle of beer and swallows down half of it.

“While I appreciate the gesture, it is only nine a.m.”

“Aww, it’s five o’clock somewhere. Now, let’s eat and be bums.”

I shrug. “That is the best idea I’ve heard all week.”

“You’re certainly dressed for the occasion,” Audrey says, waving her hand across my body.

I look down at my knee socks, running shorts, and white beater shirt stained with paint splatters. “What? These are my painting clothes. I’m in my house, you judgy judger.”

“Hi,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Audrey. I judge people.”

I laugh and slap her hand away. “You’re the mac to my cheese, Audrey.”

“And you’re the window to my wall, the sweat that drips down my balls.”

I snort and grab the Pizza Rolls. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. Come on, let’s breakfast picnic on the sofa.”

Audrey brings the beer and we make ourselves comfortable before diving in.

“So, what’s on the agenda for the next date?” Audrey asks between bites.

“I have no idea.”

“Well, Trudy told me Millie thinks it’s going to be some grand gesture. I told her to calm her tits, it’s only officially date number two. But for real, it’s like chapter six or seven of your story. The ‘just gettin’ good’ part.”

“The gossip circle in this town is out of control,” I say.

“Don’t pretend like that’s new. Always been that way.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I’ve just never been the focus of it.”

Audrey pops a few pizza rolls in her mouth, chewing with stuffed cheeks, before taking a swig of her beer. “Fuck, those are hot,” she says, fanning her open mouth. “So, how is it hanging with Logan’s friends? Are they nice to you? Need me to kick anyone’s ass yet?”

I laugh and crack the end of a pizza roll open and blow inside to make sure it doesn’t burn me. “They’re fine. Same old townies, you know? One girl seems to not like me, but that’s because she wants to get with Logan.”

“So, what’s new?” Audrey says. “Get in line, bitch. We all want a ride on that man train.”

I tilt my head and just grin as she wriggles her eyebrows. “I swear, if you were a man, you’d so be arrested on ‘To Catch a Predator.’ ”

She cackles and finishes off her beer. “Nothing to catch, kid. I’m all talk.” Audrey hops up and grabs another beer from the kitchen, bringing the six-pack with her. “Or am I?” she asks, with an exaggerated wink.

“Anyway,” I say. “Getting back to his friends…did I mention that I fell in love with Wren Hart a little bit?” I eat a couple more pizza rolls now that they’re cooled and follow with a swallow of beer.

Audrey’s eyes go wide. “Oh, how times have changed, huh?”

“You can say that again. She’s a cool girl. And I always painted her as this bad person, just because she had what I wanted. I spent most of my high school years not knowing her, but hating her. Envy and teenage hormones are the absolute worst combination. Praise baby Jesus those days are over.”

“Eh, back in my day, high school wasn’t that bad. Sure, we had cliques, but we all partied together on the weekends. And there was no social media to post pictures and videos of the dumb shit we did.”

I raise my nearly empty beer bottle and clink it against Audrey’s. “Here’s to anonymous shenanigans.”

After a handful of pizza rolls, I lay back and rub my belly. “Why is pizza so good?”

“Because it makes you fat. Anything good makes you fat,” Audrey insists.

“Amen.”

Knock knock.

Audrey and I look at each other and shrug. I skip over to the door and open it. Logan stands there in uniform, hat in place, aviator shades covering his eyes. I’m all smiles until I see my reflection in his sunglasses and remember what I’m wearing.

“Heeeey,” I say, dragging out the word. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Panic surges through me and my pulse pounds out a rhythm in my ears. My hands swipe at my mouth to make sure there’s no pizza cheese hanging off my chin. I adjust my ponytail and smooth down the front of my old shirt.

Logan takes his glasses off and the mischief in his gaze makes him appear devilish. He looks me up and down, lingering on my legs. “Yeah, I just wanted to bring you this.” He holds up a cup of coffee in a travel mug. “Lots of sugar, a little cream.”

I blush and take the cup from him. “Thanks. You’re sweet, but you know it.”

“I can’t stay. Just wanted to see your face. And ask, what’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“The Little Mermaid. Obviously,” I add, twisting a strand of my red hair.

Audrey lets out a huge burp that almost rattles the windows and I bite down on my lips to keep from laughing.

Logan looks confused. “Who’ve you got in there so early this morning?” he asks, peeking his head through the door.

Audrey gives him a wave and tips her beer bottle at him. “S’up, Deputy? Beer?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No thanks. I’m on duty.” He steps back onto the porch and gives me a curious look. “And it’s only ten o’clock in the morning,” he adds in a mock whisper.

“I heard that,” Audrey shouts.

“Anyway,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from breakfast beer. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s perfect.”

Logan places a finger under my chin, lifting my face. “You’re very welcome.” He kisses me so softly, I barely feel it. “Please, please wear this for me again sometime,” he says against my lips.

I lean back and look up at him through my lashes. “Seriously?”

He grins and slides his sunglasses back in place. “Yes. That outfit is the quintessential teenage boy fantasy right there. God, I’m going to have to think of fat, naked truckers just to get through the rest of my day.”

I laugh and sip my coffee. “Good luck with that.”

“If you could live anywhere else, where would it be?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been many places. Maybe New York for the museums. Or Paris for the art.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Are you a big city kind of girl?”

I think about it and shake my head. “Not really. I think I could be happy just about anywhere.”

“Ain’t it the truth?” Audrey says, inserting herself into our conversation. “All you need is a roof over your head, food and drink, an internet connection, and orgasms.”

“Today’s my last twelve-hour shift, then I’m off for three days,” Logan says.

“I bet you’re going to want to sleep for about two days.”

“Nah,” Logan says, sipping his own coffee. “I can’t. I’ve got plans.”

“Oh,” I say as I toe at my welcome mat.

“Are you free tonight?”

I grin so wide, my cheeks hurt. A flutter in my stomach seems to bloom and spread out through my fingers and toes, heating my telltale cheeks. “Yes?” I answer, though it sounds like a question.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”