“Then you’re gonna have to deal with me sitting here, watching you work.”
“I’m sure you have better things to do. In fact, I know you do.”
“Front row seats for the Savvy show. Gonna be here whenever I can.”
“Then do it from a distance. I need to focus.”
“Do I distract you, Savvy Sutton?”
Without looking up at him, I answer, “I think you know you do.”
Tonight is the last night of the play that his cousins are in. He asked me to go, and I told him that I was busy—work then plates.
Five hundred plates may not seem like a lot, but making them by hand is time consuming. After the written plan was approved by the art department, we had three months. With three months to complete five hundred plates by hand, I set a rigorous schedule. It wasn’t a great time of year for all those who wanted to be part of that, some just to have the volunteer hours, and so they quickly stopped showing up, while others had to study for finals. That was something I never considered when I was wallowing in my own misery.
God, if You’re really a thing, I know I may seem ungrateful and a huge pain in the ass at times, but thank You for making me smart. And also, as miserable of a trip as it was to get where I am right now, if it never gets any better, and even if it gets worse, thank You for giving me this.
It’s me,
Savvy Sutton
Back to the plan. Forty plates from clump to kiln takes about seven days. Thankfully, Chloe has realized she likes to paint, and Ziggy and Roach come back after they’re high to help where they can, too.
Tonight, I use my key to get in to finish a few up after my shift.
I miss catching a buzz. When this is done, I’m going to have a get-together at the lake. It’s not lost on me that my anxiety has lessened. And for that, I’m grateful, too.
It’s late when I pull into the parking lot and see a Jeep at the boys’ dorm parking lot. I’m pretty sure is Patrick’s.
I shoot him a text.
11:01 p.m. - Hey, are you at McKinley?
11:02 p.m. - SAVANNAH!! I am and probably going to stay here. Had a few too many. Unless you wanna ride me home?
11:02 p.m. - That’s probably not going to happen.
11:03 p.m. – Shit, Savvy. Fucking phone, or is it fat fingers? I meant, give me a ride home.
11:03 p.m. - If you need one, yeah, of course. Come out.
11:03 p.m. - Come chill for a minute?
Fuck it, I think and park my vehicle.
11:05 p.m. - Give me a few minutes. I’ll be over.
I make quick work of signing in, changing into a hoodie and leggings that don’t smell like burritos, reading Chloe’s note that she’s at McKinley, and then slip out the back door.
As I’m walking across the quad, I see who I immediately know is Patrick, based on size, stature, and that hair—he truly has the best hair—leaning against the building.
“Hey!” I yell to him.
He raises a hand and steps … oops, nope, stumbles.
Shit, this is a side of Patrick I haven’t seen—intoxicated Patrick.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Trust me”—he shakes his head—“that’s not a place you and I need to chill. I’d rather sit in shit than hang out there and see how that unfolds.”
He starts walking to the parking lot, and I follow him.
“A little less cryptic?”
“Chloe showed up.” He digs around in his pocket.
“And?” I ask.
“The three of them started talking about becoming Seashore’s first thrupple.”
“How fucked up is she?”
“She?” He laughs. “She’s been there twenty minutes. Sober as a judge. They, on the other hand, are high as fuck.”
“Well, then I think we should go back in there and stop that from happening.”
“You gonna grab a cold pail of water and break that up?”
“Are they already …?” I pause. “Oh my God, were you watching them?”
“Shit, Savvy.” He looks at me like he’s offended. “You really think that little of me?”
“No?”
“Are you saying no like it’s a question? Like you’re unsure? I mean, porn’s cool to watch sometimes, but that? Really?” He scowls.
“I’m just trying to figure out what to do.”
“Just be a Beatles and … Let. It. Be.” He hits the unlock on his key fob and starts to open the door.