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‘And disobey the teacher? You really are rebelling.’
‘Technically you’re disobeying the teacher by being rude instead of helpful.’
He leans his elbows on the table. ‘I was being honest. Your technique’s good. The subject matter’s just a bit dry.’
I look down again, studying the drawing. ‘What would you change?’
‘The girl.’ He pauses. ‘And the horse.’
I tilt my head at him.
He exhales. ‘Fine. What do you want people to feel when they look at it?’
‘It’s a reunion. I want people to feel happy.’ When he doesn’t say anything, I look at him. He’s staring at the page, the skin between his eyebrows pinched. ‘What?’
He brushes a finger down his nose. ‘Is that Bridget?’
It’s a logical conclusion, but I’m not ready to hear my sister’s name—especially from Hunter Reed’s mouth. Bridget’s a true horse girl. She only cried once the day she left, and it was when she was saying goodbye to her beloved Charlie. I’d watched through the window as her face collapsed before she buried it in the gelding’s mane. Her shoulders shook for a full minute.
‘Looks like your horse,’ Hunter says, gesturing to the page.
I touch the drawing. Charlie’s the reason I hold out hope of seeing her again. Mum was so confident her eldest would come crawling back. That’s the reason we still have him.
It’s been three years.
‘The girl looks a bit like Bridget,’ Hunter adds, ‘if she were a puppet.’
My mouth falls open as I meet his eyes once more. ‘That’s… so rude.’ But as I say it, I can’t keep from smiling.
‘It’s the muppet mouth,’ he says, pointing.
I swat at his hand, glimpsing a smirk as he retreats. It’s gone as quickly as it came.
We work independently for the rest of the class, the silence between us not as uncomfortable as one would expect. When the bell rings at the end of the period, he’s gone before I’ve even finished packing up.
‘Was it awful?’ Tamsin asks, appearing beside me.
I glance at the door Hunter exited through moments earlier. ‘No. No, it was fine.’
