Painting Sky (28 page)

“It’s fine. We all work hard for school. Cody studies and Keith spends his time painting.” I didn’t know if he wanted his parents knowing about it, but, since that was his major, I guessed it was a good thing.

Samantha’s smile faltered. I guess she hadn’t liked the news about her son, which was damn weird. I had never heard them talk about Keith, so I didn’t know what their opinion of his chosen major was. Maybe they didn’t approve, just like my parents. They would just have to suck it up, because he was damn good at it. If there was a person in the world who had to be a painter, it was Keith.

“Where’s Keith? Isn’t he coming? My parents are expecting him,” I added, to make him sound more welcome than I knew he was. I looked around, as if it would conjure him.

“I wouldn’t expect it,” said Carl, as he came down the stairs. “I missed you, girl.” He gave me a sideways hug. “How’s that boy of mine?”

I knew he was talking about Cody. The smile, the pride in his voice, and the change of tone from talking about Keith said it all. It bothered me so much that my blood was boiling. They didn’t notice, because they were busy adjusting Carl’s tie. The question had kind of been rhetorical, too. I held my fists down, willing my heart to settle. I wanted so badly to tell him that his pride and joy had cheated on me. He would probably dismiss it and say I had it all wrong, despite the fact that Cody had confessed.

I didn’t answer and they didn’t insist. Carl stayed behind to lock the door and I made a point of not touching him as I passed him. I was still angry when we sat down at the table.

After eating vegetable soup, my mother asked for help with taking the bowls to the kitchen and bringing out the rest of the meal. Curiously, all the women got up to help, while the men stayed and talked about upcoming games. Even with the world evolving, some things didn’t change.

I was the one to pick up the last platter of mashed potatoes, when I glanced through the window and spotted light coming from the window of the Hale kitchen. I should have told Carl about it: it might have been a burglar. I had a feeling, however, that it was just Keith coming home. It was too cold outside to wander the street, and, as far as I knew, he didn’t have close friends around.

I left the mashed potatoes on the counter and went next door.

I didn’t knock, but pushed the door open and tiptoed inside. If it was a burglar, I wanted to find him, first. The door hadn’t been broken in, so I must have been right. The soft music coming from upstairs confirmed it. I went up the stairs without calling for him, which I knew was an invasion of privacy.

As soon as I was at his door, I called his name. He jumped so high that it was a miracle he didn’t hit the ceiling. He was cradling his chest and I hoped he was too young to have a heart attack.

“I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you.” I stepped forward, but didn’t go inside the room. I didn’t feel welcome there.

He sat on the bed, still massaging his chest. “You creeped up on me, of course you would scare me! God, Skylar, way to give me nightmares.”

I placed my right hand on my hip. “Gee, thank you for making me feel ugly.”

He just looked at me under his lashes, rolled his eyes, and got up. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at your Thanksgiving dinner?”

I didn’t miss the “your.” He didn’t feel invited and no one could blame him.

“Oh, come on, everyone is waiting for you.” It was the overstatement of the year and we both knew it, even if he didn’t comment on it.

He looked around for a shirt: he had just come out of the bathroom wearing only jeans. “Not feeling like it.”

I was on borrowed time—someone would be coming here at any time to look for me. I didn’t want them to hear me beg Keith to come to my house—or to even see me so close to him, without a shirt on.

“Come on, we came for this dinner, and now you’re bailing on it. Your mother wants you there. She misses you.”

“Oh, right. She didn’t even call today to see if I had died on the road.” He shrugged a shirt over his head: black, like his jeans, and probably like his mood, too.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “She knew I made it home and she was working today. Don’t be like that, Keith. Come on.” I stepped inside his room and grabbed his forearm. “My mom made so much food,” I whined.

He was thinking. That was progress, right? I tugged harder on his arm and he followed me without putting up much of a fight. Along the way, his stomach groaned, and I laughed while he eyed me sheepishly. He was used to my food at home, and he had probably gone the whole day without eating.

As I suspected, when we got back to my house, my mother was already putting her coat on to look for me. “There you are. I was getting worried,” she started, until she saw Keith behind me. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked between us.

“I saw Keith get home, and went to get him for dinner. He misunderstood the time.” Keith was about to correct me, but I managed to nudge him without my mother seeing. “Come on, you already missed the soup.” I pulled his sleeve, but let go before reaching the dining room.

His seat between Matilda and my aunt was still empty, and I silently thanked my mother for not removing the plate. The second thing I noticed was the look of horror on his parents’ faces. They hadn’t seen his piercing or tattoos. Shit was about to hit the fan, so I had to intervene.

“Aunt Sarah, is there any news?” I tried. Of course, my aunt understood my meaning and looked at my mother, reproachful.

“Oh, you couldn’t keep quiet.” She was smiling, though. She placed her hand over her flat belly, confirming my suspicions. “We’re going to have a baby. We were waiting for the second trimester to announce it.”

We all cooed and congratulated them, diverting the attention from Keith successfully. I didn’t miss the sour looks, though, especially in his father’s eyes.

After a while, my grandfather asked about college, and it was my father’s turn to look sour.

“It’s going well. I really like my classes.” I didn’t want to dwell on the subject, but my father had other ideas.

“I gave you a semester to find some place related to your major to accept an internship for the summer—don’t forget that.”

How could I? People kept telling me I needed to find my place and to grow up. How could I do that while my father was always around, reminding me that he paid my bills? I kept quiet for the rest of the meal, not missing Keith’s glances in my direction. He wanted to speak up for me—or he wanted me to speak up—but, on Thanksgiving, I didn’t feel comfortable enough to do so.

After finishing the deserts, Keith was the only guy to help in the kitchen, much to our mothers’ astonishment. They kept looking at him like he was the enemy, which was pissing me off. I knew that, as soon as his parents were alone with him, they would grill him because of the way he looked.

In the end, it was just the two of us in the kitchen. I could hear my family talking loudly and laughing in the living room.

“I should probably go,” said Keith, drying the last glass.

“I don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m going to sleep in Cody’s room,” I said, not wanting to catch him by surprise later.

Keith turned to look at me, frowning, and I knew I had to explain. “My grandparents are staying in my room, so my parents asked yours if I could stay there.” I shrugged, like it wasn’t going to be too hard to be in a place I had so many memories in.

He understood, though, and looked through me, as if I were made of glass. He opened his mouth to say something, but my sister chose that moment to poke her head in the kitchen.

“Hey, you two, come on—we’re going to play that drawing game and I want you two on my team. We’re so going to win this. Mom, Aunt Sarah, and Samantha are on one team, against Dad, Uncle Tom, and Carl, and they can’t draw shit.”

“Language, Matilda,” I warned—she was still my little sister, after all. I looked at Keith, who was ready to decline. Maybe this would be good for him. The game was fun: we always ended up laughing like crazy at everyone’s drawing attempts.

“Come on, we can win this.” I nudged his shoulder and pulled him to the living room. Before we sat on the floor around the coffee table where everyone already was, I caught my sister eying me curiously. She nodded to Keith’s back, but I ignored the unspoken question. That was just what I needed: Matilda making up stories about me and Keith.

The first game didn’t take long. Our team got every word right, while our parents and my uncle and aunt couldn’t draw anything. We ended up laughing more than guessing words. My father’s castle was a cake and they couldn’t get it right, even after the one minute had long since passed.

Keith had relaxed beside me. After the first game, the other two teams decided it was unfair to have me and Keith drawing, so they got Matilda to do it while we guessed. Matilda wasn’t that bad at art, either, and we ended up winning, again.

After the second game, Keith got up, saying he was going home. Everyone agreed that the game had lost its appeal. The men gathered around the TV, watching reruns of football games, while the women gathered around Sarah, asking about baby names, clothes, and everything that was attached to an expecting mother.

I got up, feeling misplaced in my own house. “I’m tired, too. We didn’t sleep much last night, so—” My father’s eyes shot up angrily, and he looked between Keith and me. “With the weather and sleeping alone in a motel room,” I added, not wanting another argument.

I went to my room to pick up my backpack and took my sketch book, as well. I didn’t want my grandparents to have heart attacks by seeing drawings of naked people. They were old-fashioned.

When I got downstairs, Keith had already left. I caught up to him while he was pouring himself some milk in his parents’ kitchen.

“Goodnight.” It was the only thing he said. I nodded and poured some water for me.

I stayed in the kitchen a while longer, eying the backyard and staring into my house’s lighted windows, so full of life. I missed my family. They had been on my mind for weeks after I’d moved, and then less and less when classes started occupying my mind—even less when Cody broke my heart.

Now, staring at the house I missed so much, another feeling crept up inside me: the feeling of not fitting in. I didn’t feel like this was my life, and what bothered me the most was that I didn’t feel like this in Keith’s house. Sure, for a few weeks, I had been self-conscious about living there, but now I found myself missing it more and more.

Of course, the prospect of sleeping in Cody’s room tonight had me shivering. I so didn’t want to step inside his room—not even for a minute, much less to sleep there for the night.

I
had so many good memories from this house and from his room, even before we started dating. I had spent so much time there that now my mind started playing games with me, making me remember stuff I didn’t want to recall. I wasn’t thinking about the betrayal, I was thinking about my best friend, my first and only boyfriend, and about how his face would light up every time he spotted me in the school hallway, or when he opened his bedroom door to come play with me. I remembered how much I enjoyed cuddling with him on his bed, watching movies on his laptop.

This feeling was suffocating me by the time I actually made to his room to change into my PJs. I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes. I was so tired after the previous night’s adventure that I picked up the blanket and went to curl up on the living room sofa.

I felt my body relaxing, but my eyes refused to close. Keith’s parents came home around one in the morning, and I prayed they would go upstairs and bypass the living room. They took their time getting a glass of something from the kitchen and giggling like teenagers.

I really didn’t want to hear Cody’s parents making out.

They stumbled up the stairs, probably having drunk too much. I didn’t want to imagine my parents doing the same.

Afterward, I took a long time falling asleep. What was probably just a few minutes later, someone shook me awake.

“What?” I jolted and almost fell to the floor, but Keith’s arms stopped my fall.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, sitting on the couch where my head had been just seconds ago.