The sun had dipped further into the sky by the time Micky pulled up at my house. I was beat, my limbs hardly cooperating as I sat up and rubbed a hand over my face. Micky, though, seemed upbeat as ever. He was bopping his head along to a song from Recalled Ramen Noodles—a harsh reminder that brought up thoughts of Samantha again. And it was the last thing I wanted to think about.
“You okay?” Micky looked over at me, while his hands kept drumming a beat on the steering wheel.
“I’m fine,” I sighed. “It’s just, I don’t think you’re a right fit for the Northwood Journal.”
“And why’s that?”
“You’re... really asking me that?”
“Yes. I’ve been on board for over a week, and none of them have said I’m not a ‘right fit.’ But then you come along and tell me this, so I wanna know why.”
I faced him, counting off the points on my fingers as I made them. “First, you abandoned me to do God knows what. We discussed what both of us were to do, and I ended up doing all of them. You never took photos like you were supposed to—which was the sole reason you were provided the camera.” I gestured at the glove department, where he had dumped the device when we entered the car. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m wasting my time talking to you about this. You probably just tagged along to look for ways to cheat and sabotage their team.”
His expression went from a smug smile to utter shock. Immediately, he turned off the music. “What? No!” he yelled in disbelief. “I wouldn’t do that. Aside from that being a bad idea, it’s also a fucking stupid one, because the next competition is in our school, not West Dale. All I did was watch. That’s it.” Micky shrugged, frowning.
“Then why did you keep disappearing? You could still watch from where we sat.”
Now, he sighed like he was tired of me. “Because Coach Martin was there, and I didn’t want him to see me. Since the summer of our sophomore year, he and Coach Rivera banned Northwood athletes from going to games at West Dale, because it always ends in some sort of clash. But I wasn’t there as an athlete, I was there as a journalist.”
“Some journaling you did.” I rolled my eyes.
“Parker, don’t be like this. I didn’t cause no trouble; you can’t kick me off just like that. Honestly, all I did was watch the competition to see what the team is up against.” Micky’s lips drew into a thin line as he rubbed at his forehead. “We never really hear stuff about our games, because Coach likes to surprise us and ‘keep us on our toes.’ The newsroom gets all the information before we do. It’s why I went.”
“How is that my problem? You’re literally telling me you joined just to use us for your benefit.”
“Shit. Okay, I know it sounds bad, but I don’t have any bad motives. I’m sorry for not being helpful. But please, Parker, I need this.” He licked his lips, face turning solemn. “I didn’t lie about... needing a boost with the academic side of things. And a recommendation letter from Mr Dimas would be just that.”
“Fine. What’s my part in this?”
Suddenly, he brightened up, rubbing his palms together. “Okay, eh, I’ll help get you interviews, like what happened today. If you need brawn, I’m your guy.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Only that?”
“N-no. No, I... I’ll drive you around. I don’t suppose you can drive with the cast on, and I don’t think you have a lot of experience with public transport either. Please.” His voice came out in a desperate croak. “And I’ll try harder to help with the Journal, I promise.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t say no. “Come pick me up tomorrow morning. 7AM.”
“Sweet! I owe you one.” He reached across to ruffle my hair, smiling wildly.
Dinner was pizza and several bottles of soda, which I ate in my room. Martha, the lady who regularly cooked for us, was on leave. And since it wasn’t a Friday, my mom would not bother with the kitchen.
Wiping down my hands after the last slice, I texted Adrián to let him know I was home and free to talk. My phone rang almost immediately.
“Wow, I didn’t know you missed me this much,” I said with a laugh when his face appeared on the screen.
“Is that wrong?”
I smiled at the fact that Adrián didn’t even think to deny it. “No. And it’s reciprocated.”
I formed half a heart with my left hand, and he completed it. We both broke out in laughter. Some moments later, he propped up his phone on his desk and gathered his art supplies.
“What are you working on?”
“Finishing this painting so I can start with the props for the drama club,” he answered.
Right, that painting. It was the one he’d told me was making for a study—his rendition of The Kiss. I’d been turned down enough times after I asked to see it. He told me to trust the process and wait until he was done.
So instead of asking about it again, I addressed the other issue. “You joined the drama club?” It seemed everybody was getting involved with an extracurricular that wasn’t so typical of them. Micky, who read nothing apart from his school books, was now interested in being a part of the Newsroom squad. But Adrián’s was even more surprising. He was rather reserved and shy, and I couldn’t think of any situation where he’d willingly jump at a chance to be on stage. It was all too out-of-character.
“Not exactly. Laura told a lie that she’s in the play they’re doing this fall. It included me, you know, the lie. It was stupid and rushed, but I kind of leaned on it again twice. And now I really have to help with it because my mother’s invested. I told her it was the reason I came later today.” Okay, Adrián wasn’t exactly going to be in a play, but him joining the drama club was strange as it is. And it was also partly my fault.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a smile. “Anyway, I’m enjoying being a part of it. The Theatre kids are really nice.” His eyes flitted down to the canvas, and I watched his arm flex as it moved in calculated motions. I watched him for a while, soaking up as many of his details as I could, and replicating them in my mind’s eye whenever I blinked.
Long eyelashes that curled up a bit at the ends. Stray curls he kept brushing aside, resulting in blobs of paint streaking his forehead. Tongue peeking out between plump lips as his eyes moved back and forth over the painting.
He noticed me gawking. “Why are you looking at me like that?” His lips parted as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. A lot of inappropriate thoughts ran through my head.
I said, “Have I told you I love your smile? It’s, like, the second best thing you do with your mouth.”
“Second?” Adrián looked horrified, embarrassed, and interested at the same time. It was like he was trying not to laugh, but he was failing miserably at keeping a poker face, because it just seeped out in a fierce blush.
“The first is when you talk, you know? When you actually let out words and not just listen. It’s nice.”
This time, he let a laugh free. And I added, “I just discovered another great thing you do with it. Maybe you’ll show me more?” I blinked at him innocently.
“God, please stop.” He was bawling now, bent over and clutching his stomach. Jellybean strolled in front of the camera lens, giving me the expected stink eye.
“Love you too, Jellybean.” I blew a kiss and received a condescending meow.
Adrián picked her up, and she snuggled into his chest. “I guess you two don’t share cat kisses anymore.”
“Nope. We’re competing for you now,” I giggled.
We settled into a comfortable silence after Jellybean squirmed out of his hold and left the room. I put away the pizza box and empty soda bottles, and started my homework, while Adrián went back to painting.
He broke the silence after a whole. “Hey, Parker? Do you want to talk about the Sam thing? It’s okay if you don’t. I only want you to know I’m here if you need anything.”
“Not really, but I guess I should. I was so close to losing it with Micky earlier because he was listening to a band she’s tied to.” I laughed, but it sounded forced in my own ears. Adrián looked at me expectantly, his silence an encouragement to let things out. “She, um, left. And she’s at Tanner’s place right now; he’s her boyfriend. I mean, I get it. Our parents are shitty, and I can’t blame her, because I’d have done the same thing if I was in her position. Still doesn’t make me feel better about it—it makes me feel... abandoned. I don’t even think I’m good at being an older sibling, and now I’m the only one Jamie has to rely on.”
“Oh... “ he whispered. “Are you sure she’s really gone? Did she pack her stuff or something?”
I shrugged before lying back. “Maybe. I’m not certain, and I don’t want to look in her room either. I also can’t ask her about it. I- I blocked her number.” For some reason, it felt shameful and petty, so say it out loud. Not at all as freeing as when I’d done it.
“I honestly don’t know what to say, but I hope things get better. You’re great, and I think Jamie would agree. Let me know if you need anything, Parker. I’ll be more than happy to help you,” he breathed. “Sincerely.”
That had me crack a little smile. “I appreciate it a lot. But enough gloom talk. I want to know what’s going on with you. When is the play? What is the play?”
“It’s an original production. But from the set I have to paint, it’s sort of medieval. Or fantasy, maybe. And it’s on October 20th.”
My mouth fell open, and I rolled over so I could stare directly in his face. “That’s my birthday!”
“Whoa, that’s awesome!” Adrián said, reflecting my enthusiasm. “And you don’t even have to worry about me missing it, because I’m not even starring in the play!”
This time, I snorted.
~~
Hey, y'all!
It's been a while but I'm excited to let you know I'm free until January so updates will be consistent again!
Also, thoughts on this chapter? 👀