For the first time in weeks, I am able to create art. Pure imaginative, unadulterated, passionate art.
I paint from the moment I sit down in art class to the moment the bell rings, and then some time longer. When Clive comes to get me I tell him that I'll walk home or call if it's not too late. I know he wants to go the party and I don't really feel like keeping him from having his fun.
The painting sooths me and I fall into its familiar rhythm, knowing this is the best medicine for my fissured heart. I mix my colors in new ways, try out new techniques and let the emotion of the stinging words flow out of my arm and into the brush across the canvas.
After the minutes have ticked by, turning to hours I hear Laurene. "Gemma! You're still here?"
I look up from my canvas, startled. "Oh, Laur, you scared me. Yeah, sorry, I just..." I trail off as Laurene comes to stand next to me.
"Gemma!" She gasps, looking at my painting.
I feel my heart jump as I wait for her opinion. "Yeah?"
Laurene smiles and shakes her head. "Gemma, this is beautiful."
I look at my painting in whole. I see the colors and what they make, and in the end I am satisfied. It's the painting I did of Olive, but redone in a stark contrast of different colors. Her hair is a mixture of purple, greens and blues. I've used a texture technique where it's slightly bumpy and I've even added some glitter. She looks like a goddess or a mermaid. Or perhaps herself, because in my eyes she is a goddess. Her eyes are the best part of the painting. They aren't open anymore, they're closed as if in a dream state. The lashes are curled and the eyelids are painted in strokes of pink.
I'm not sure how to explain it, but I can feel the emotion and I can feel the character of Olive.
I feel her color. I feel her spirit of loving life.
"Good enough for the state Crary competition?" I ask, tentative.
Laurene laughs. "Darling, this is good enough for nationals."
***
Laurene gives me a ride home and I'm surprised by the sight of Olive's car parked out front. But then I remember the bloody party and how I had never actually told her and Macey whether or not I was going to go.
I go up to my room to find them both laying on my bed, dressed in cute party outfits and singing along to music playing from one of their phones.
"Guys? What's going on?"
They both sit up, looking at me. "We're waiting for you to go to the party."
I roll my eyes. "Guys, I'm exhausted."
Macey makes a face. "Where have you been the past three hours, Gemma?"
"Um, painting. When inspiration hits, you don't stop." I shrug, dropping my bag to the floor and running a hand through my snarled hair.
"Well, now you're going to Cleo's party. We think you need to let loose some. You're starting to drift back to serious Gemma when this is our last year in high school." Macey makes a face. "Live a little, Gem."
I sigh, knowing I'll regret this. "Alright, fine. But I'm not staying past midnight and we're driving home as soon as I say."
Olive nods excitedly. "Yes!"
***
Cleo lives in a giant beach house, actually near where Wesley's party was. When we arrive, the party's in full swing and I smell the alcohol in the air. My stomach gives a slight flip at the sight of all the red solo cups; to think of how many people will make fools of themselves tonight.
Macey and Olive walk on either side of me, not abandoning me. Yet.
We make our way to the back of the house and there we find Clive with his friends. He gives a cheer of excitement at the sight of me. "Gemma! You're here!"
He comes closer and I smile back at him. "Sure am, brother dear. So, how many drinks have you had?" I'm only joking since I know Clive never drinks more than a beer at most. He's more levelheaded than any other person our age I know.
He rolls his eyes. "I didn't think you'd come, Gem."
I shrug. "These two convinced me." I nudge Mace and O.
He smiles at them, winking. "Good, Gemma needs a break, huh?"
I arch an eyebrow. "Don't lecture me about overworking myself over something I love doing." We both know he has no room to talk since he's the same way about his surfing.
The party continues and I do what I always do at these things. I stand around and laugh with my friends until they disappear, making new acquaintances and doing things they'll probably regret tomorrow. It's not that I mind being left to my own amusement.
In fact, I rather love the look of parties.
Past all the loud music and alcoholic confessions made, there's a certain loneliness that makes itself shown. I'm able to see just how lonely people can be at a party, despite being surrounded by people.
I move to the back porch, wanting to get some fresh air, when someone bumps into me. I look up and see Larkin. Instantly, my mind fills with the things he spoke to me earlier. I'm hurt, but I know I'm too kind to bring it up again.
Larkin frowns, looking at me with tired eyes. I hate those damn eyes. They give way too much pain to me for my own good. They're either too beautiful and breathtakingly painful or too brutally honest, telling me everything he's been up to. "Gem, I didn't think you'd come."
I shake my head, moving outside. "Larkin, not now. Please just leave me alone."
So much loneliness here.
Larkin takes hold of my arm. "No, Gem, please, listen to what I have to say."
I sigh, knowing he won't leave me alone until he's spoken. "Whatever, make it quick."
Larkin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "What I said earlier... I didn't mean it the way it came out. I meant to say that you're not like those girls... in a good way."
I laugh and the sound of it is short and bitter. "Right, okay, is this an apology, or what?"
Larkin shakes his head. "Let me finish would you? You're not like them, because they mean nothing to me. And you do. You're my friend, Gemma. These past few weeks have been a lot of fun and I think we're a lot of fun together. So... please don't get angry at me."
I close my eyes, listening to the bass behind us, not caring about the world - not caring about anything. I open them to see Larkin smiling hopefully. Do I forgive him? I feel I already forgave him when I poured all my emotion into the painting.
I reach out and take his hand, holding onto the piece of him that's mine. "It's alright, Larkin. It's all okay."
We both seem to move together then, walking toward the ocean. Our feet sink into the sand and we walk down the shoreline, taking in the fresh air and letting the salty mist wash away any of our regrets we held from earlier. I let my mind wonder, thinking of the twisted history of our friendship.
The Wedding. English Class. The Kitchen. The Libraries. And now, the present, where we make ordinary days that much better by just being friends.
The moon is out and the stars mingle in the air above us. I take it all in and I wonder why I'm so happy.
Only now, I realize I'm still holding Larkin's hand.