I get a twinge in my gut. A not-good feeling. I decide to walk in.
“I’m here to help my aunt,” I say as I come through the door, but the woman doesn’t acknowledge me. I step past her and head toward what looks like the main gallery space to my left.
Only this gallery isn’t one big room. It’s a lot of small rooms. I’m trying to figure out where Aunt Bette went to, and I end up getting turned around. I’m about to step through another doorway, when I realize I’m back at the main entrance.
“She looks like a witch!” a girl whispers. And then two people laugh.
I crane my neck around the door frame. Sitting with the woman is Rennie Holtz.
Oh my gosh. This is the gallery that Rennie’s mom owns.
“Like a homeless witch! I wonder if she got here by broom.”
Her mom lets out a laugh that sounds like a goose honking. “Quiet, Ren.”
Then Aunt Bette comes into the room. She’s got her arms full of her paintings. She’s about to scurry out when Rennie’s mom stands up. “Um, Bette? I wondered if I might give you some unsolicited advice.”
Aunt Bette doesn’t answer her right away. She walks toward the door and peeks outside at her car. I guess she’s looking for me. And when she doesn’t see me, her eyes dart around the gallery. I duck out of sight.
“Bette?” Rennie’s mom says again. I hear Rennie snicker.
“Yes. Yes. Sorry.”
I edge my head around the corner again.
“I had a lot of trouble with your new work. To be frank, it was making some people uncomfortable. I’m not saying it isn’t intriguing. It is. But I don’t think that kind of darkness is what most buyers are looking for.” My eyes narrow on the canvases in Aunt Bette’s hands. They are all muddy, dark, haunting. Slashes of blacks and grays. Nothing like her old paintings. It looks like the stuff of a madwoman. Painting hasn’t brought her back to the real world; it’s drowned her further in darkness. “You should go back to those darling lighthouses and seascapes.”
Aunt Bette’s face hangs. “I don’t paint to sell. I paint my world. And this is what it’s like now.” She turns to leave.
Rennie’s mom mutters, “She’s gone off the deep end.”
“Cuckoo!” Rennie says. And they both crack up laughing.
I am about to flame.
I look around the room. I want to do something to make them stop. I narrow my eyes on the open paint cans on the floor and will them to tip. Tip tip tip tip. They start to shake.
“Mary!”
Aunt Bette shouts from the front door. Rennie and her mother look wide-eyed.
I rush out past them and follow her to the Volvo.
“I told you not to come inside!” Aunt Bette is furious. “What’s the matter with you?” Her hands squeeze the steering wheel so hard the skin turns white.
“They were calling you crazy. They were saying you’re a witch, that you’ve lost your mind.”
I expect her to get mad, to defend herself. Instead Aunt Bette stays silent and rolls up her window tight, sealing us both inside. I burst out, “Why do you let people treat you that way? You’re not a doormat! Have some self-respect!”
“I’m not like you, Mary. I don’t want to be like you.”
It stings, to hear her say this. I’ve always looked up to my aunt. I’ve always thought she was the coolest lady, someone I’d want to be like someday. I don’t even recognize her anymore. I fold my arms and turn toward the window. If Aunt Bette doesn’t want my help, that’s all the more reason for me to go. “I’ve decided it’s time for me to go back home. Right after New Year’s.” I can’t help but throw in a dig. “And then I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
I wait to see if Aunt Bette will say anything. If she’ll take back the mean things she just said. But if anything, she looks relieved.
This is what Aunt Bette wants. Me out of her life.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
It’s twelve fifteen on Monday and I’ve been dreading this exact moment since I woke up this morning. The lunch table.
I would love to sail right past and sit with Kat and Mary, but Mary doesn’t even have the same lunch as me, and Kat never eats in the cafeteria. And the main reason I have to sit at our lunch table is because if I don’t face them today, I’ll never be able to sit at the table again. That’s my table, and Ash and Alex and PJ, they’re my friends too. I will go in with my head held high, nose in the air. Untouchable. Rennie and Reeve can’t hurt me because they can’t touch me.
This is what I tell myself as I walk into the cafeteria. Thank God Ash is with me. She and Derek got back together sometime over the weekend, so she’s even more bubbly than usual. I’m wearing my best I-couldn’t-care-less-about-you outfit—that high-waisted bandage skirt Kat bought me, plus a silky black blouse with lipstick print that I tucked in, plus sheer black stockings and suede platform booties.
Mercifully, Rennie and Reeve aren’t sitting down yet. Maybe they won’t show. I eat the Cobb salad my mom packed for me and listen to Ash chatter about how romantic Derek was when he asked her to get back together. “He showed up at my house with flowers, and he would not take no for an answer, Lil,” she says, sighing happily.
“What kind of flowers?” I ask. My heart’s not in it, but I’m at least trying.
“Pink carnations!”
That he probably got from the gas station on the way to her house.
“So sweet,” I say. Then Ash spots Derek in line for food and she runs over to him.
I see Rennie and Reeve heading toward the table; Rennie’s got her arm linked in Reeve’s. Even in heels she only comes up to his elbow.
I keep focused on my salad, and I don’t look up when they sit down. I just dip each individual lettuce piece into my honeymustard dressing with my fork. If I keep at it, I won’t have to look up for all of lunch.
Then Alex comes walking over. I wonder if he and Reeve are still mad at each other or if they made up already, the way boys do. Or maybe he hates me too now, for the thing with the pizzas and for holding Reeve’s hand in front of him. I hold my breath as he sets his tray down and sits in the seat across from me. “You look nice,” he says, taking off his cable-knit sweater.
I smile at him gratefully. “Thanks, Lindy.” Thank you so much.
At the other end of the table, Rennie’s practically sitting in Reeve’s lap. She’s whispering and cooing to him, and he puts his arm around her.
“I’m here to help my aunt,” I say as I come through the door, but the woman doesn’t acknowledge me. I step past her and head toward what looks like the main gallery space to my left.
Only this gallery isn’t one big room. It’s a lot of small rooms. I’m trying to figure out where Aunt Bette went to, and I end up getting turned around. I’m about to step through another doorway, when I realize I’m back at the main entrance.
“She looks like a witch!” a girl whispers. And then two people laugh.
I crane my neck around the door frame. Sitting with the woman is Rennie Holtz.
Oh my gosh. This is the gallery that Rennie’s mom owns.
“Like a homeless witch! I wonder if she got here by broom.”
Her mom lets out a laugh that sounds like a goose honking. “Quiet, Ren.”
Then Aunt Bette comes into the room. She’s got her arms full of her paintings. She’s about to scurry out when Rennie’s mom stands up. “Um, Bette? I wondered if I might give you some unsolicited advice.”
Aunt Bette doesn’t answer her right away. She walks toward the door and peeks outside at her car. I guess she’s looking for me. And when she doesn’t see me, her eyes dart around the gallery. I duck out of sight.
“Bette?” Rennie’s mom says again. I hear Rennie snicker.
“Yes. Yes. Sorry.”
I edge my head around the corner again.
“I had a lot of trouble with your new work. To be frank, it was making some people uncomfortable. I’m not saying it isn’t intriguing. It is. But I don’t think that kind of darkness is what most buyers are looking for.” My eyes narrow on the canvases in Aunt Bette’s hands. They are all muddy, dark, haunting. Slashes of blacks and grays. Nothing like her old paintings. It looks like the stuff of a madwoman. Painting hasn’t brought her back to the real world; it’s drowned her further in darkness. “You should go back to those darling lighthouses and seascapes.”
Aunt Bette’s face hangs. “I don’t paint to sell. I paint my world. And this is what it’s like now.” She turns to leave.
Rennie’s mom mutters, “She’s gone off the deep end.”
“Cuckoo!” Rennie says. And they both crack up laughing.
I am about to flame.
I look around the room. I want to do something to make them stop. I narrow my eyes on the open paint cans on the floor and will them to tip. Tip tip tip tip. They start to shake.
“Mary!”
Aunt Bette shouts from the front door. Rennie and her mother look wide-eyed.
I rush out past them and follow her to the Volvo.
“I told you not to come inside!” Aunt Bette is furious. “What’s the matter with you?” Her hands squeeze the steering wheel so hard the skin turns white.
“They were calling you crazy. They were saying you’re a witch, that you’ve lost your mind.”
I expect her to get mad, to defend herself. Instead Aunt Bette stays silent and rolls up her window tight, sealing us both inside. I burst out, “Why do you let people treat you that way? You’re not a doormat! Have some self-respect!”
“I’m not like you, Mary. I don’t want to be like you.”
It stings, to hear her say this. I’ve always looked up to my aunt. I’ve always thought she was the coolest lady, someone I’d want to be like someday. I don’t even recognize her anymore. I fold my arms and turn toward the window. If Aunt Bette doesn’t want my help, that’s all the more reason for me to go. “I’ve decided it’s time for me to go back home. Right after New Year’s.” I can’t help but throw in a dig. “And then I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
I wait to see if Aunt Bette will say anything. If she’ll take back the mean things she just said. But if anything, she looks relieved.
This is what Aunt Bette wants. Me out of her life.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
It’s twelve fifteen on Monday and I’ve been dreading this exact moment since I woke up this morning. The lunch table.
I would love to sail right past and sit with Kat and Mary, but Mary doesn’t even have the same lunch as me, and Kat never eats in the cafeteria. And the main reason I have to sit at our lunch table is because if I don’t face them today, I’ll never be able to sit at the table again. That’s my table, and Ash and Alex and PJ, they’re my friends too. I will go in with my head held high, nose in the air. Untouchable. Rennie and Reeve can’t hurt me because they can’t touch me.
This is what I tell myself as I walk into the cafeteria. Thank God Ash is with me. She and Derek got back together sometime over the weekend, so she’s even more bubbly than usual. I’m wearing my best I-couldn’t-care-less-about-you outfit—that high-waisted bandage skirt Kat bought me, plus a silky black blouse with lipstick print that I tucked in, plus sheer black stockings and suede platform booties.
Mercifully, Rennie and Reeve aren’t sitting down yet. Maybe they won’t show. I eat the Cobb salad my mom packed for me and listen to Ash chatter about how romantic Derek was when he asked her to get back together. “He showed up at my house with flowers, and he would not take no for an answer, Lil,” she says, sighing happily.
“What kind of flowers?” I ask. My heart’s not in it, but I’m at least trying.
“Pink carnations!”
That he probably got from the gas station on the way to her house.
“So sweet,” I say. Then Ash spots Derek in line for food and she runs over to him.
I see Rennie and Reeve heading toward the table; Rennie’s got her arm linked in Reeve’s. Even in heels she only comes up to his elbow.
I keep focused on my salad, and I don’t look up when they sit down. I just dip each individual lettuce piece into my honeymustard dressing with my fork. If I keep at it, I won’t have to look up for all of lunch.
Then Alex comes walking over. I wonder if he and Reeve are still mad at each other or if they made up already, the way boys do. Or maybe he hates me too now, for the thing with the pizzas and for holding Reeve’s hand in front of him. I hold my breath as he sets his tray down and sits in the seat across from me. “You look nice,” he says, taking off his cable-knit sweater.
I smile at him gratefully. “Thanks, Lindy.” Thank you so much.
At the other end of the table, Rennie’s practically sitting in Reeve’s lap. She’s whispering and cooing to him, and he puts his arm around her.
