did he yell at me? Ollie’s eyes are glassy with panic when I meet them. “Did it work? Are your hiccups gone?” His eyes bulge as he stares at me.
“Ah yes, that did it, thank you.”
Ollie smiles, but it’s forced. His hands are under the desk. “Yeah a good scare will make them disappear.” A few heads turn away from us, returning to their phones or conversation. Ollie leans forward, the fake smile still on his lips as he says, “I’m sorry, we can talk about it later.” His mouth barely moves. I swallow and face the front of the room, there was definitely something going, but it’s obviously something we can’t talk about here.
When class lets out Ollie walks me to the door but keeps a few feet of distance between us. Frowning, I wave as he moves through the crowed halls calling out a distracted, “Bye.”
Sitting in the stairwell, my usual lunch spot, I expect one or all of them will show up at some point, but I find myself slightly disappointed when they never do. Milo helped me pack my lunch this morning, and by helped, I mean tried to give me three times what I could eat. I still have an apple and carrot sticks I didn’t get to that he refused to let me take out. I do have to say though, the fresh turkey with lettuce and pickles was so much better than my usual peanut butter sandwich.
I don’t share anymore classes with them until art with Dante last hour, so I guess my questions about what happened with Ollie will have to wait a few more hours.
Today is the last day to work on our portraits and at the end of the hour Mr. Adams will collect them so they can be judged. I’m under no illusion that mine stands a chance, but I am proud of what I was able to accomplish. I stare at the project I’ve been working on over the last several weeks and analyze each line, finding some spots I’ve shaded too heavily, and some with proportion problems. But the overall piece isn’t bad for someone who had no clue what they were doing to begin with. Mr. Adams deserves all the credit. If it wasn’t for him, I would have handed in a stick figure and rightfully earned a failing grade.
The seat beside me remains empty, even after the bell rings. Worry gnaws at my stomach. Where’s Dante, what could be keeping him from class today? I know this project was important to him. I don’t know why, he clearly has enough money to go to the college of his choosing, but somehow I know this meant something special to him.
The class is louder than usual, I think everyone is excited to hand in their work or maybe just to start something new. Mr. Adams doesn’t even try to quiet the room as he makes his way around to each student with last bits of advice. When it’s finally my turn I can’t stop myself from asking, “Will Dante be able to hand his in late?”
My art teacher tilts his head and looks at me. “Dante already handed his project in earlier today.” Shrugging he adds, “He had to finish up the yearbook cover so it could be finalized. I didn’t mind, he could have handed his project in last week.”
My eyes go round before I look away. “Oh okay.” He’s with Delaney. That thought makes me forget I was just concerned about him and his portrait. It makes me want to hunt them down so I can stake claim the way she tried to. I shake the notion away. Even though I know our lives are intertwined, I still don’t know everything that entails.
“Laura?” Mr. Adams calls for my attention, I don’t think I was very good at hiding my disappointment. “I think you’ve really outdone yourself on this,” he adds when I look in his direction. Biting the inside of my lip, I nod my head in agreement. Mr. Adams helps me with a few final details before moving on to the last students.
When the bell rings I leave my paper, along with everyone else’s, on the teacher’s desk. I don’t rush from class like I usually do. Instead, I take my time I’m feeling indecisive. Should I go to the back lot to see if the guys are there, or just walk over to the diner like I would normally do? As the halls