Picasso's Promise

Episode 30| Solutions

Sydney's P.O.V.

My car was out of the shop, meaning I didn't have to haul ass to the bus stop to get a ride back to school.

The text message I got from Danielle, who was watching the basketball game, told me that the game was over. Turning the heat off, I massaged my shoulder as I inspected the faces that streamed out of the gymnasium. No one stuck out, forcing me to squint in the dark to make out the features of the students.

What was I going to do?

Bringing out my phone, I wrote out a message to him. He didn't reply to any of my other messages today, but I couldn't stop trying. I wasn't going to give up.

Please Picasso, I want us to talk. I promise not to lie. Please let's just talk this through. I know that we can. Sighing deeply, I pressed send and went back to watching the school doors.

All week, he avoided me at every turn, not wanting to discuss the conflict between us. Did he think I was that easy to dismiss?

I wasn't going to give up.

I was wrong to want to go behind his back, lying about what I was going to do during the weekend.

The real problem was that I had gone so long in life skirting past disappointment with a smile and a brief apology, thinking that was enough to get me back in anyone's good graces. That wasn't the case here; one apology wasn't going to bring us together.

I jumped out of my car, seeing Picasso tower to the left of Elijah. The lights attached to the school building shined white light, showing me the grin on his face, making my heart spring to my throat at the sight.

He was in a good mood; that was amazing to see, praying that meant that it would be easier to talk to him.

Unfortunately, his lovely smile, the smile that had awaken hope inside me, melted away into nothingness.

A harsher expression took shape, clenching his jaw and looking down at the cement as though it captured the answers of universe in its cracks and crevices.

"Picasso," I said, clouds forming outside my mouth against the cold air, "Picasso, can we talk?"

He raised his gaze up to his friends. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

I sealed my lips so that he didn't see how much air I exhaled from my mouth, feeling the sorrow exit my body and being taken over by happiness in its place.

Certainly, I was closer to falling to the floor from this turn of events. I didn't want to show him how desperate I had gotten, pushing my hands into my pocket so he didn't see them shake from nervousness.

"Did you drive here?"

He stared, hard. "That's what you want to ask first?"

"I—uh, I," I stuttered, bringing my keys out of my pocket. "No, I just wanted to know because I have my car with me."

"You drive?"

"Yeah, it was in the shop for a while, getting repairs. I can drive you home if you want and we can talk on the way there. I...I was just asking to be nice."

"That's a first."

"Offering you a ride?" I guessed, "Yea—"

"No, you doing something to be nice."

"Oh, that," I said, air escaping my lips like a deflated ballon.

"Or really being nice in general."