We Were Giants

Chapter 18

When I wake up on Monday, I feel odd. I'm filled with butterflies and dread. I'm nervous. I'm excited. I feel sick. I'm the happiest I've ever been, which scares me. My happiness doesn't usually last very long; I try not to worry about what's going to come along to ruin it.

I'm nervous about school. How are people going to react to Isaiah and me? What are people going to think about Dylan and me? What am I going to tell Kayla?

I wonder why everybody has to know. I'm wondering why anybody needs to know.

But when I get to school, Isaiah takes my hand as if it's the most natural thing on Earth. He laces his fingers between mine and I relax. Things will be okay. As long as Isaiah is at my side, things will be okay.

"Good morning, sunshine," he greets me as we walk to my locker. "Sucks you're grounded."

It does suck I'm grounded. I want to see him. I want to spend all of my time with him. I want to ride in his car and listen to sappy love songs and paint pictures of the sunset.

I want to barf because I want to do all of those things.

Today, my superpower isn't working. Everybody sees me and smiles or greets me or nods in acknowledgement. But they all see me. And I don't know if I like it. But I like this feeling of Isaiah beside me, towering over me, smiling at me like a goofball. I like his presence nearby.

When we get to art, I dread talking to Nicole Bannister. I dread facing the events of Friday night. I dread somebody asking about Dylan. I dread explaining anything in front of Isaiah. He already knows everything that happened, but I don't want him to relive that as much as I don't want to have to relive it. I can't believe I was so stupid.

"Cade," Nicole greets me as we enter the art room. "You disappeared on Friday."

She sounds concerned but also suspicious. She raises an eyebrow slyly at me.

"Did you have fun with Dylan?" She nudges me with her elbow, ignoring Isaiah standing beside me.

"If you count puking everywhere fun, then yes, we had a freaking blast," I say as flatly as possible. I already want to curl up and die. I already miss my superpower. Why aren't I unnoticeable?

"Not my definition," Isaiah shakes his head, his voice light and good natured. He's always good natured.

"But we managed to turn the night around after that," Isaiah winks at me, but I know it's for Nicole's sake. Nicole returns the wink and takes a seat at her desk.

I'm more grateful for Isaiah than I was before. Will he always come to my rescue? I hope so.

"Thank you," I whisper to him as we find our seats comfortably next to each other, the way it has been all year. The way it should be forever. I slip into this comfortable life and my art reflects that comfort. The colors I use are bright, all greens and blues and yellows. I've never used these colors before, maybe ever. I surprise even myself with the spring scene that is unfolding before me in pastel. I didn't know I had this in me. I thought I was like Dali, with everything muted and dark. But somewhere in me there has been a Thomas Cole waiting to break free.

"Very nice, Cade," Mr. Camplin smiles as he passes by. "This is unusual for you. I'm glad to see you're challenging yourself."

I hear a few of my classmates mimic Mr. Camplin under their breath.

"Very nice, Cade," Nicole says in a high-pitched voice and I'm not sure if it's playful or angry.

"How are things going with your end-of-the-year portfolio?" Mr. Camplin stares angrily at the mockers as he asks.