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I’m not sure how she ended up tethered to Darci. Her aunt and uncle are public figures who are big into church, and her aunt is close to Darci’s mom. I think they kind of threw them together, but she isn’t really Darci’s type. She always dresses like this and doesn’t wear any makeup. I’ve heard she isn’t allowed to have a phone or a driver’s license, and it seems like our house is the only place she’s allowed to go.
And then there’s that stuff about her mom.
I’m not judging her. It’s just that…it seems like Darci would. She’s brought other girls to tears for far less more times than I can count. On the contrary, she’s not someone I judge—she’s someone I watch…closely. I can’t stop myself. Whether here, in class, or in the halls where our lockers are across from each other, I’m aware of Ally Hargrove.
“Hi, Devon,” she says, looking the other way.
“Hey, Ally,” I reply. “I like your…shirt.”
What.
“Oh,”she says, looking down at her sweatshirt, confused. “Um, thanks. It’s really old. It was my mom’s.”
She smiles—just a little—and her eyes meet mine. She doesn’t need any of that other stuff to be beautiful. She justis. Her dark eyes are framed with thick dark lashes that I’ve spent more than enough time studying in art class, but this is the first time I’ve held them like this. Ally is always polite, but we never talk. Not that I haven’t tried—Ihave. She’s sat in front of me all semester. I’ll try to come up with anything to start a conversation, and she’ll answer without meeting my eyes. She won’t look at me when she’s over here, either. I assume it has something to do with the whole ‘Satan worshipping’ bullshit.
Equally dark hair sits piled in a bun on top of her head, and she nervously tucks a stray piece behind her ear before she looks away. I watch, jealous of her own fingers brushing against her ear and trailing down her neck.
That’s what I should have done. I hate myself for not being a riveting conversationalist right now.
I reach into the pantry and pull out a bag of Doritos. “You want some?”
She nods. I set it down on the island, and she walks hesitantly toward me.
“You have to answer a question for me first,” I tell her.
“Okay…” she replies nervously.
“Who are those people you’re always drawing?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“The ones with no faces. Sometimes, they’re kids. Who are they?”
I realize by asking that I’ve let her know I’ve been watching her, but Iwanther to know. Surely, she’s caught on by now anyway.
“Oh…they aren’t really anyone,” she says, looking just over my shoulder. I want to grab her by the chin and make her look at me again. “Just a feeling. Sometimes, it feels better to get them out like that, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Is that a good enough answer?”
“It is. Go for it.”
She grabs a handful of chips from the bag.
“For what it’s worth, you’re really talented,” I tell her. “I want you to know that…I’ve noticed. I always look for your work. It stands out.”
“Thanks,” she says. “Um, I’d better go back.”
She looks down at her hands and then turns on the faucet. I reach across her and turn it back off.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Lick it,” I tell her.
“…What?”
“The Dorito dust. You know you want to. Everybody does it.”
