Love to Hate You

Chapter Twenty

Monday morning I practically sprint to Mrs. Boots classroom. Coffee in hand, I dodge sleepy students while ignoring rude comments as I speed down the hall. I don’t have time for them. I need to get this painting entered in!

I spent all Saturday evening and the following Sunday perfecting this and there is no way I’m taking no for an answer. You can forget it. It’s not even an option. I did not slave away my day for a rejection! Paint, sweat, and probably even blood, since I’m clumsy and I cut myself on the easel, went into this painting. And, no I’m not being dramatic! I’m stating the truth! Mixing paint and waiting around for layers to dry is frustrating work. Non- Artists just don’t understand.

Pushing open Mrs. Boots’ classroom door, I partially step into the slightly disorganized classroom. The faint smell of drying paint, melted wax, and deteriorating sketch paper assaults my nose, begging me to soften up, but no, no more Miss Nice Girl. No more Doormat, no more Walk All Over Me, no, I’m done. Mrs. Boots will say yes even if I have to stay here all freaking day.

“Mrs. Boots.” I whisper hoarsely, holding the door ajar with my elbow.

She doesn’t even look up, instead she stands up and makes her way over to the back counter like she didn’t hear me.

“Mrs. Boots.” I repeat, this time louder as I push my way into the room, nudging the door open with my elbow again.

She stands up straight abruptly and turns toward the door, seeing me struggle but making no effort to help. Yeah, okay, leave me alone to battle a heavy door with ten things in my hand. Thanks.

After some pushing and shoving, I fall through the opening, almost spilling my coffee, and let out an exasperated sigh. Mrs. Boots watches in fascination and concern as I collect myself. I send her a glare, showing her I am not amused. Stepping forward, I set my coffee on the first desk I see and drop my backpack on the floor beside it. Keeping the painting hidden under the cover, I set it on a separate desk so that I can set down my skateboard. Running my fingers through my hair, I look up to find her looking at the painting with a cocked eyebrow curiously.

“Would you like to see?” I ask, nodding to the covered up painting and pulling down on my shirt that keeps riding up.

If she’s eager to see the painting, I don’t know. She’s covering up any emotion like a pro. I sigh impatiently, hating that her answer is delayed. She simply nods and walks over to me slowly, keeping her eyes on the white covering.

“I want to repaint this on the mural wall.” I tell her while I pull the covering back, revealing the paint covered canvas.

No lie, I spent over three hours just painting the beginning of the instruments and another two doing the words below it. I’ve seen the scene enough time to know what the instruments look like all set up at The Lunch Box by memory. I’ve also seen enough of the Heartbreakers posters around school to know what font Kris uses when he makes them.

“I think it would be neat if they signed their names on the wall as well.” I add, noticing her jaw drop considerably, “I think the band is pretty important to the school. The incoming freshman might as well know that. Besides, it’s their posters that hang in the hallways and in girl’s lockers. Why not give them some credit? They’re a big deal around here.”

“It’s lovely, and I see what you’re trying to do Reese, but—“

I put my paint stained hand up to stop her.

“Who cares?” I ask desperately, slamming my hand on a desk, “No one else’s murals support them. All the murals are the same every year! The mascot, the school, random recreations of famous artwork,” I count off on my fingers, “it bores them! It bores me! This is something different. This is something my classmates can look up to. The band inspires them. Haven’t you ever listened to them in the halls? It’s always Heartbreakers…always.”