I’m all too happy to take his hand again. We don’t acknowledge. Neither of us look down, or tighten our grips, or say anything.
Because we don’t have to.
Monday comes and Mrs. Liu needs an answer.
“I know I keep pestering you about this, but the show is Friday night and we really need an answer if you—”
I stop her. “I’ll do it.”
To be honest, I hadn’t walked into school with a definite answer. I kept thinking about what Nathan said, about being scared. I don’t really know if it helped. I actually think I just said whatever came to mind first.
Which was apparently a yes.
Mrs. Liu’s face brightens and she starts bouncing up and down. “Oh, Ben! I’m so excited! Okay, we’ve got a lot to do. I made sure to plan for your space, so you’ll just need to pick the work you want to showcase. We’re limiting each student to five pieces, okay?”
“I’ll just show the paintings I’ve already done,” I say.
“Like the one of Nathan?” Her voice sort of trails off.
I nod. “That one too.”
“Ben, that’s fantastic. I’m asking everyone to stay after school Friday to help with the setup. It should definitely leave enough time for you to go home and get changed.”
“Okay. I’ll be here.”
Except when Friday finally comes, I am not ready.
All day at school I’m a nervous wreck, hardly talking, and I can’t quit shaking. At lunch, Sophie gives me this cube toy she says helps her when her ADHD gets really bad. And it helps a little, but only so much.
“Any clue what we’re supposed to wear?” Nathan asks.
I shake my head. “None at all.” I’ve been thinking about the floral shirt, the one Hannah bought me. But what if that’s too formal? Or too casual?
“Excellent, I’ll just break out my birthday suit.” He tries to get me to laugh, but it’s not happening.
“Yeah, didn’t need that mental image,” Meleika says.
“I think I’m emotionally scarred for life,” Sophie mutters.
After school, I head to the art room. There isn’t much to set up since all the partitions to hang the art are already up. We just have to pick our stations and move our work. The second I step into the art room I’m surrounded by a bunch of people. Some I’ve never seen before, others I’ve seen in passing.
For a few seconds everyone just stares, but then they go back to whatever conversations they were having before. Mrs. Liu tells everyone who’s ready to go to the front of the school and pick their spots. Those of us who have to get work hanging in the back have to take turns with the ladder to get it down.
“That’s amazing.” This girl glances over my shoulder at the painting of Nathan. “Nathan’s so freaking cute, oh my God.”
“Oh, um, thanks,” I say, like I can take credit for his cuteness. Can’t argue with her though.
I pick a place near the back, that way I might not attract a ton of attention. And once I’m done, Mrs. Liu dismisses me.
“Just be here by eight, okay?” she says.
Thomas doesn’t really have to change, and Hannah’s almost done by the time we get home, but I waste nearly an hour trying to decide what to wear, and now I stare at myself in the mirror, and really consider just not going to this art show at all.
I pick the floral shirt Hannah bought me, the black one with the pink flowers, and I guess I look fine, but there’s just something weird about my body tonight, and I’ve got this gross red bump on my chin that I asked Hannah to cover up, but we don’t really have matching skin tones, and I’d rather have a bump than this random streak of slightly darker skin.
“You ready, sib?” Hannah definitely looks better than I do. Hell, even Thomas looks more comfortable. I’m just a weirdly shaped, awkward body. Always have been, probably always will be.
“I don’t really know.” I give myself another look, but I still hate what I see. Back home, I’d just wear whatever Mom bought me. She had good taste, and the clothes fit, and they were close to what everyone else wore so I felt less self-conscious.
“Want to talk?” she asks.
“Nothing to really talk about.”
“You sure?” Hannah walks over to my bed and takes a seat on the edge, patting the spot next to her. “Come on.”
I sigh, but do what I’m told, resting my elbows on my knees.
“What’s up?” Hannah asks.
“Just nerves,” I