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I made a face. “Very funny. But no, it’s something else.”
“What then?”
Tapping a finger on my lips, I wondered how Mason would react to hearing about my project. The guy was a jock through and through. He was even sporting one of the basketball team’s long-sleeved tees today. He didn’t seem like the type to understand art, but then again, I didn’t like to judge. Maybe he had a creative side — and maybe that was the side of him that I could use to finally break through.
“Come on, let me show you,” I said, glancing over my shoulder once again to make sure Mr. Anthony was sound asleep. Sure enough, his eyelids were glued tight and his lips fluttered in a snore. “Are you up for a short field trip?”
“Definitely,” he said, rising to his feet. “Anything to get out of here.”
Pleased that it hadn’t taken much to convince him, I tiptoed quietly toward the door and held it open. Skipping class, even for a few minutes, wasn’t my kind of thing. So the last thing I wanted was to get caught. Apparently, Mason didn’t feel the same need to take precautions. He rolled his eyes at my dramatic exit and walked normally toward the exit, even stopping to drop a book loudly on the library countertop, which nearly gave me a heart attack.
Despite my fears, Mr. Anthony still didn’t stir.
With the coast clear, I led Mason down the hallway toward Mrs. Drew’s supply closet. Every so often, I’d glance sideways at him. I couldn’t help it. He seemed totally unfazed about skipping class. In fact, he stretched his long arms over his head and stifled a yawn as if he did this every day. It was either that, or I was boring him.
“So...are you liking Rock Valley High?” I asked, unable to stop myself.
Silence wasn’t exactly fun for me. I always had to find a way to fill it. Mom had nicknamed me talk-a-lot-Trina when I was onl
y five years old.
“Yep.” He pursed his lips into a thin line, his gaze straight ahead.
“Looks like the basketball team is pretty good this year.”
“Looks like.”
My eyes trailed the line of gold and green lockers ahead of us, desperately seeking a topic that would bring about more than a two word conversation. Mason certainly wasn’t going to make this easy. If I wanted to be friends, I was going to have to work for it.
But before I could think of anything, we arrived at the hallway door to the art closet. I pulled a green lanyard from my pocket, swinging the small golden key that hung on a ring at the bottom. Upon learning that my senior class project was now something I had to accomplish after school hours, Mrs. Drew had given me a spare key. It had been an honor. She might have been the coolest teacher at Rock Valley High, but even she didn’t give just everyone access to her supply closet.
“You want to know what’s been distracting me?” I asked, opening the supply closet and clicking on the light. “Behold!”
There it was. The pieces of metal I’d managed to find here and there. A few were from Mrs. Drew. A majority of it had come from the mechanic shop Collin Preston’s dad worked at. All had been carefully selected and were waiting for me to get to work. Even sitting in a heap on the floor, I could envision where every single piece would go in my plan to complete my masterpiece.
“This is it?” Mason stepped into the supply room, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the metal. “This pile of junk?”
I exhaled and threw a hand dramatically to my chest. “How dare you? This happens to be the senior class gift to the school. The senior class gift that also happens to represent you. It’s the most important piece of art I will have ever created. Years from now, when I’m famous, people will flock to the grounds of Rock Valley High just to get a look at an original Trina Frye piece.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with what looked like the beginning of a smile, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “All right, so not a pile of junk.”
“Right.” I made a sweeping gesture at it. “You’ve got to learn to see the potential in things, Mason. That’s my motto. When I’m through with this junk, it’s going to be beautiful. It’s going to be a masterpiece. Just got to think about the potential.”
“Okay, okay. Whatever you say.” He shook his head in disbelief as he walked past me and back into the hallway.
I closed up the closet and followed, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the whole deal. Was he doubting my ability as an artist? Or was this whole brooding thing just impossible to crack? I really couldn’t tell. We’d already spent two classes together and I was no closer to finding out about the real Mason. The guy beneath the dark looks and deep frowns.
I thought we were going to walk back to the library in total silence, but suddenly he stopped and turned toward me, his lips twisted in thought. “Is that why you are...the way you are?”
Confusion hit me and I paused a few feet away from him. “Translation, please?”
“You said you like to see the potential in things.” He worked his jaw, his eyes darkening. “Is that why you’re always so...ridiculously upbeat?”
Most people probably would have taken that for a compliment, but my cheeks warmed in a blush. Mason had a way of making even an innocent statement like that sound like an insult.
“I guess. I just don’t like thinking badly about anyone. Everything...everyone...has a story. A reason why they are the way they are. I think that if people learned to get to the bottom of it, they’d also learn to see the beauty. And everyone would be a little happier.”
“So you’re saying there’s no such thing as a bad person? Sounds pretty naive to me.”
