We Were Giants

Chapter 16

"Mom said to give you this," Isaiah says, shoving an envelope in my hand on Friday.

It's the first time we've spoken in nearly a week, but he doesn't even give me time to thank him before he leaves. Not much of a conversation, but it's something, at least.

I open the envelope and peek inside at the check. I'm floored by the amount on the check. It's the biggest check I've received yet. On its own, it's almost enough to buy a car. Added to the money I've saved I'll be able to buy anything within reason. I feels nice having options.

Inside the envelope Mrs. Rosenthal has also slipped a handwritten note.

Mr. Swanson, your work continues to impress me. I'm sorry that our partnership has had to come to such an end, but I have no doubt of your continued success. Your gallery show will be highly successful. I've already assembled a strong guest list of art supporters in our community. If you have any new work to send, please send it as soon as possible. I will not accept submissions after next Friday. It has been a pleasure working with you and I do hope you will not harbor any resentment toward my son because of the termination of our partnership. Wishing you all the best, B. Rosenthal.

My blood turns to fire and my vision goes red. I won't send that woman a used tissue, much less anymore completed artwork. I feel myself unspool and turn to look at Isaiah. I want to talk to him. But I can't stand him. I can't stand his family. I can't stand to be in the same room as him. He may be embarrassed, but at least he has his pride. I don't even get to keep that. Betty Rosenthal has taken it all from me. Because I'm poor.

I take comfort in the fact that I'm going to my first party tonight. Maybe I'll even buy a car and drive myself. I've made plans to stay at Cameron's house. He and Kayla have reluctantly agreed to attend the party with me. Neither of them is interested, but Kayla is taking pity on me after my head-on collision with the Rosenthal family. I appreciate the effort. Especially considering the pints of ice cream and teen dramas I've endured during her head-on collisions.

I try to make eye contact with Isaiah and I feel that now-familiar empty spot in me grow wider. Is it always going to be this way? Have I lost my best friend forever?

"I'm buying a car after school," I tell Kayla and Cameron at lunch. I haven't asked my mom to go. And I haven't done any research or preparations. But I've said it, so now it's true.

"What kind?" Cameron asks, more interested in the possible car purchase than in the party I've been discussing until now.

"I don't know. Whatever I can afford," I shrug. Whatever I can get insured for? Whatever I can get my grubby little hands on.

I dream of a sports car. I dream of walking out of school every day and sliding into something fast and loud, with an engine that rumbles. I dream of finding a back road and opening it up, driving as fast as I can.

I think of Isaiah's Audi and sigh. I'll never get to sit in that again. I think I may miss the car as much as I miss him. No. That's not true. But I do miss riding in that beautiful piece of art.

"You have enough money for a car?" Kayla perks as she realizes what I'm saying.

Instead of answering her, I slide the check from Isaiah's mother to her. She opens the envelope cautiously, then looks at me open-mouthed. Her face flashes a series of emotions from surprise to shock to anger to betrayal. It all happens so quickly I feel like I've got whiplash.

Oh God, I think. Oh God. I never told her about Mrs. Rosenthal.

"Nice of her to send you a, what's that called when you get fired?" Kayla snaps her fingers, trying to remember. "A severance check."