On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,94

across the table in disbelief.

“That’s wonderful, honey!” Mom says. “I’d love to see it.”

“Well, I destroyed it, so... it’s gone now,” I say with my eyes still locked on Seth.

He sits back a bit and looks at his plate. I’d think he was ashamed… if I believed he was even capable of it.

“Oh.” Mom tilts her head, confused. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“For the best, I’m sure,” Dad pipes in, bored and lifeless as always. “No use in getting too attached to art, I say.”

Mom fixes her smile on him. “Harold...”

“Maybe next semester you can fill your schedule with something more practical,” he says, ignoring her scolding tone. “The world already has enough homeless waitresses. It doesn’t need one more.”

I exhale quietly. It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before. Art is stupid. I’ll make nothing of myself. I’ll live starving and penniless forever if I don’t grow up and get an actual career. And... you know what? Maybe he’s right. I didn’t even have the confidence to enter the piece into the Art Fest myself. How am I ever going to support myself with my art if I couldn’t even do that?

“Heidi’s great, actually.”

I turn my head up in surprise.

“She’s talented,” Seth continues, his sharp eyes pointed at Dad. “You should support her instead of tearing her down.”

I blink twice, staying quiet.

“It’s a hobby,” Dad says. “Not a career.”

“She won a prize at the Chicago North Art Fest as a first semester freshman. Do you know how impressive that is? No one’s done that since 1993. She kicked some serious ass and I’m really proud of her.”

What the crap?

Seth looks at me with the same pride in his eyes as there is in his words. “And she’ll never be homeless,” he adds. “If she ever needs someplace to go, she knows my door is always open.”

I don’t react. Hell, I’m not even sure how.

“Oh, Sethy.” Mom smiles. “That’s so sweet! I’m so glad the two of you have been looking out for each other here. Chicago is such a big city…”

Dad hums, his way of acknowledging he’s outnumbered. “Well, I just think a few courses or a minor in academia will be beneficial in the long run. As a safety net.”

I nod. “There’s actually a great internship with the Art Institute for art history students. I thought about looking into that for next summer, possibly. I have to knock out a few prerequisites first.”

Dad perks up, though it’s hardly noticeable to the untrained eye. “That sounds promising,” he muses. “I’d love to hear more about it.”

“Me, too!” Mom says.

“You know, a curator for the Smithsonian makes over six-figures a year.”

She scoffs. “Please, Harold, not everything in this world is about money.”

“Judy, if you honestly still believe that, then no wonder she’s majoring in art.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I look at my brother and we both sigh as they bicker faster.

Chapter 51

Heidi

I pull my jacket a little tighter around me as I wait for the crosswalk to change. The good news is that I survived lunch with the family (mostly) unscathed. The bad news is that the autumn weather took a hard left turn toward suck in the last hour and I did not dress for a rainstorm. At least the parking garage is only across the street from Moira’s. One more quick jaunt and I’ll be under ten floors of mighty concrete shelter.

I preemptively tilt my face into my elbow as I feel the tickle rise in the back of my nose. Yup, definitely going to rain.

I sneeze.

“Bless you.”

I look over my shoulder, intent to thank the kind stranger who wished me well, only to sign in annoyance.

Seth.

“Thanks,” I say anyway, promptly facing forward.

“Allergies, huh?” he asks, sniffing softly. “Mine, too.”

I roll my eyes. “Uh-huh.”

Nope. Not making small talk with him today.

The crosswalk signals for us to move and I practically lunge off the curb, shuffling quickly to get as far away from Seth as possible. I reach the parking garage and head toward the stairwell in the corner. I’m parked on the third floor, which should be more than enough distance to abandon Seth.

Halfway up the second-floor stairs, I hear footsteps about half a floor down from mine. I peek over the rail and there’s Seth and his big, black eye.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

He pauses. “What?”

“You’re following me. What do you want?”

“Relax.” He continues upward. “I parked on three.”

I let him pass as annoyance churns in my gut. “Who gave you the shiner?” I call him on