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***
Almost two weeks after he left, I got an email from Bastian. When I saw his name in my inbox, my heart almost pounded right out of my chest.
Hello beautiful.
Sorry it took so long to write, but restoration is hard work. After a twelve-hour day, it takes all that I have to get home to go face-down for a solid eight. I miss you every day. Your painting is hanging in my bedroom, so I see it every morning when I wake. I'm thinking about you every day, missing you even more.
Yours,
Bastian
Happiness filled me reading his words even as longing nearly brought me to tears. My fingers were shaking as I typed my reply.
Bastian,
It makes me happy to hear that you are enjoying the work. At least something good came from this mess. Your parents are assholes, but we won't let them win. We'll figure something out because I miss you too.
Yours, heart and soul
Lark
Almost as soon as I hit send, my cell phone rang. It was Bastian. Before I could even say hello, he said, “I fucking miss you.”
“Shouldn't you be sleeping?” I teased.
“I'd much rather be talking to you. Am I keeping you from anything?”
I settled on my bed and got comfortable. “Nothing more important than you.”
“I like that answer. So, how's school?”
“Not the same without you. I hate English, lunch and seventh period. I dread going to my locker because I know you won't be standing there and every time I drive by the apartment, I break down into tears. My art, though, is off the charts. I think I'm going through my dark stage.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Stop! It isn't you. It's your damn parents. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from them?”
“Only enough for them to tell me that this job is less embarrassing and a step in the right direction, because it's gotten me away from you. In their minds it is only summer work: tiding me over until I agree to work for my dad.”
“Assholes.”
“I couldn't have said it better. So I heard through the grapevine that you and Caden have been hanging.”
“He's a great guy. Getting him to laugh and smile, shaking him out of that constant haunted mood even for a little while, it's a good feeling. Why, you aren't jealous, are you?” I was joking about the jealousy, but when my question met silence, I feared maybe he really was jealous.
He said, “For someone who claims to have spent your life in solitary, you are remarkably insightful when it comes to reading people.”
Before I could ask what he meant by that comment, he changed the subject. “So, what are you wearing?”
I laughed out loud at the question before lying through my teeth. His sounds of distress were very satisfying.
***
I’d been working on some leaf rubbings in the art room, thinking about my phone conversation with Bastian from the night before, when the door opened and in walked Brad. He had started hanging out with Poppy, Sophia and me after Bastian left: joining us for lunch and a few times sitting with us at the local cafe for a coffee after school. I suspected he had an interest in Poppy and since she and Shawn were noticeably spending less time together—a situation I'd been pestering Poppy about—Brad was making his move. Outside of art class, he never voluntarily came into this room. I was surprised by his unexpected visit. So much in fact that I stared at him in much the same way a scientist would study mold in a petri dish.
“Hey Lark.”
“What brings you here?”
