Radiant - By Christina Daley Page 0,11

guess."

"Is painting the same as dating?" he asked.

What the heck? Mary looked to see if he was messing with her. But he seemed like he genuinely didn't know the difference between the two.

"No. But I prefer it," she said.

"Why?"

"I just do."

"But why?"

She blurted out, "Because paints and brushes don't have expectations of you."

He was silent.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"It is all right."

They were both quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I wanna ask you something now."

"Okay."

"Why are you talking to me?"

"Is there a reason I should not?"

This answering her questions with more questions thing was starting to get on her nerves. "Several, as a matter of fact," she said.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Well," she said sarcastically, "you've never spoken to me other than to insult me."

He looked at her, surprised. "I have insulted you?"

Apparently, he forgot about the time he called her a "damn chink." During freshman year once, they were in the lunch line together and she accidentally spilled apple juice on his Jordans. He should've known better anyway, that wearing non-school shoes might mean they would get messed up or confiscated by a teacher. Anyway, he hadn't even enough sense to use the correct derogatory for her. After that, she started bringing lunch from home and eating in the Art room.

But she answered, "You just haven't talked to me much before."

He looked like he was trying to remember something. At last, he said, "I apologize that I insulted you. There is no excuse for that. Will you forgive me?"

Mary stared at him. She wasn't expecting an apology, and she didn't really know how to respond.

"You do not have to answer if you do not want to," he said.

Good, she thought. Then, she stopped walking.

He stopped lunging. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not really," she said. "But people say you've been different since you came back. I can see what they mean."

His half-smile disappeared. "You can?"

She nodded. "You're polite. It's weird."

"Polite is weird?"

She shook her head. "No, no. It's not. It's just weird for you. You always seemed kinda rude before."

"Oh," he said. "Would you prefer that I were rude?"

"No!" she said quickly. "That's not what I meant. Polite is good. I like polite."

He smiled again. "I like polite, too."

Glad that's established, she thought. They finally arrived at the computer lab, and Mary found the picture she wanted on NASA's website. When Carter asked what she was doing, she told him about her plans for a Saturn painting.

"You like the celestial bodies?" he asked.

"The what?"

"The celestial bodies," he repeated. "Things in space. Like stars, moons, and planets."

"Oh, yeah," she said. "That's pretty much all I paint when I'm not working on something for school."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I think they're pretty. I like looking at the sky. Especially at night."

"The Earth is more interesting to look at," he said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"It is where all the life is," he said.

Mary waited for him to explain further, but he didn't. Instead, he asked, "May I see your painting when you have finished it?"

She hesitated. Mary hardly showed anyone her unfinished work. She hardly showed her finished work, for that matter. But she still felt like she owed him despite him saying that she didn't. "Okay," she said. "It'll be a few days though."

The bell rang, marking the end of the lunch period.

Carter stood. "I will look forward to it."

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- 7 -

Fake

Mary bumbled her way through English class. It was her worst subject. She took forever to read a book and took even longer to write an essay. Even at her best, she managed average grades, and average grades in a prep school meant you sucked. Her class was currently reading through some book about an Italian guy who went through the levels of hell. Appropriately, the teacher's name was Ms. Heck, and the class was starting to feel a bit like one of those levels until the blessed bell finally rang. Mary gathered her stuff and went to Physics, her final class of the day. She found a surprise when she got there.

Abandoning his usual seat in the back with his buddies, Carter sat on the front row in the desk next to hers. That seat was normally empty, and Mary liked to put her book bag on it.

"Hello," he greeted when she sat down.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. "What're you doing here?"

He looked at her curiously. "I am here for class."

"No, I mean what are you doing in