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“Don’t worry.” She giggles. “It’s our secret. I won’t tell Bran you’re drawing him.”
I clumsily grab my juice, chugging a bit. “Um, is Brandon okay? He left with Ms. Hall earlier.”
She offers a sincere smile. “Because of rumors, which I’m sure you’ve heard, they wanted to ask Bran about last night. He’s fine, though. He’ll be in his afternoon classes.”
“Cool.” If Britney isn’t worried, then I shouldn’t be.
And yet, I am.
I trace the edge of the table with my finger in deep thought.
“Kayla,” Britney pulls me out of it. Her eyes, the same piercing dark blue as Brandon’s, glisten with interest. “Do you like my brother?”
I shyly duck my head. “Um...he’s forced himself into my life. It’s hard not to feel something.” Brandon is a mystery that I’m both scared and eager to unravel.
“Huh.” She grabs a slice of apple and stares into space while snacking. “Bran may seem like a lot, but he has a good heart. He’s just hurt.”
I recall what the guidance counselor said, and who better to tell me about Brandon than his twin sister.
“Um, Britney, if you don’t mind me asking, why—”
“He’ll be upset if I told you about that dark time in his life.” She looks at me and smiles. “I have a feeling he’ll share it with you soon.”
I crumple my forehead. “What makes you say that?”
“Because my brother chose you, Kayla.” She pops a grape into her mouth and winks.
Chose me?
I shake it off as Britney switches the topic, asking about art, and in return, I inquire about ballet. Her expression lacks passion as if she’s doing it for someone else. But I mind my business.
We carry on talking for the rest of the lunch period.
Britney is refreshing. I can’t deny it’s a relief that Brandon’s sister seems to like me.
With my head still stuck on Brandon, it’s a struggle to concentrate in art class. And of course, today’s theme is freestyle.
Instead of fighting the emotions, I allow them to lead, creating an array of colors on the canvas that’s as chaotic as my mind. The results draw smiles and confusion from Ms. Jung.
“Different, and that’s what I look for in this class,” she tells me before moving on.
“Thank heaven’s,” I whisper to myself in relief.
For a moment there, I thought she was going to point to the door and order me to leave.
On my way out later, I glimpse Sam in the hallway.
“Hey.” I grasp her hand, stopping her. “Can we talk? Please? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”
She nods after a beat.
When I let go, Sam leads me through the side exit to the vast garden.
“Okay. Tell me what I did.”
A frown contorts her makeup-free face. Tone soft, she says, “Nothing, Kayla. You didn’t do anything. You’re the sweetest. Honestly, I’m not mad at you; I’m just upset about something.”
“What?” I urge, touching her arm.
