Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance - C.M. Stunich Page 0,103

my phone, or I'm in the butterfly cave with Barron, or fucking him in the chapel … Or I'm with Raz, cuddled up at my aunt Deb's cottage.

But I can't avoid it forever.

I have to find a way to stop whoever has it from posting it.

“You know,” Mama Cathy begins, her freckled hands covered in splatters of paint. “I've been wanting to talk to you about something for a while now, but I haven't found the right time.” She looks up at me, an easy smile forming on her pale lips. Cathy's always made up for Jane's rare smiles by having heaps of her own to give out, always free and easy and open.

“Okay …” I hazard, a bit surprised that I'm still able to learn new things, open up new pathways in a timeline that seemed so concrete at first.

Yet, this Devils' Day is anything but.

Raz and Barron, they have feelings for me, feelings that I reciprocate.

I exhale sharply, but keep a smile on my face to match Cathy's.

“I was thinking, we could start carrying some of your work in the store. Prints, as well as originals.”

“My stuff?” I ask, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. I've literally waited years for this. Years. “Really?”

“And don't think this is nepotism or anything,” Cathy says with a laugh as Jane comes out with a tray, setting it on the side table next to my chair. She ruffles my once-again purple hair with her fingers before moving over to sit beside her wife. On the tray, there's a plate of homemade shortbread cookies, the cup of tea I asked for … and 'ants on a log', the celery snack I was talking to Luke and April about.

My throat gets tight as I look back up at the two of them.

“You've grown into a brilliant artist, Karma,” Jane says, her dark curls wrapped up into a bun on the top of her head. She blows on her own tea and then sips it carefully, watching me over the rim of the cup. “That piece in your room, it's brave. There's a lot of heart in it. We talked it over a few days ago, and we truly believe you're worthy of wall space at the gallery—starting with that canvas.”

“The one with the moon?” I reply, feeling my chest get tight as I think about how I destroyed it so needlessly on the first day. Wall space at the shop is in high demand; some artists even pay my mothers to put their originals in prominent spots. Even artists whose work the moms have been selling for years have yet to claim wall space. “Are you serious?”

“You know how seriously I take the shop,” Mama Jane says, setting her cup down. She looks up at me with dark eyes, tinged with worry, before glancing over at Cathy for a brief moment. When she looks back at me, she's smiling again. “Why don't you bring your canvas out to the studio today, and we can all work together? It's been a long time since the three of us spent time creating together.”

“Like a coven of artsy witches, making art on Devils' Day,” Cathy says with another smile. “Are you still planning on going to the party tonight? Or should we do our own thing here? I bet your sisters would love to have you.”

Little does she know, I've had my fill of Devils' Day parties in the last two weeks. Two. Fucking. Weeks. And yet, I don't feel much closer to figuring my way out of this.

“I'll stay in tonight. We can get stuff for biscuits and chocolate gravy, and I'll cook.” That's pretty much the only meal I know how to make from scratch, but I do a good job at it. Besides, it's an Arkansas staple. I've got to represent, especially when I'm the only student at Crescent Prep who was actually born and raised in the state.

“Your sisters will be thrilled,” Cathy says, standing up and taking the small canvas with her. She hangs it up on a nail in the only spare bit of wall in the living room. It's an oil painting of a girl with big, grey eyes. “She reminded me of you,” Cathy explains as she glances back at me, her brows furrowing together. “Only, you seem different now than when I ordered it.”

“Different, how?” I ask, picking up a piece of celery and biting into it.

“Less … afraid,” Cathy says, before turning and heading for the sliding