Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
I manage a small smile and wave.
“Hey Mr. Reston.” I greet. “How’s it going?”
“Oh you know, just enjoying a nice peaceful morning, as usual,” he says with a smile. “How are you, Zoe? It’s nice to see you.”
“I’m good,” I smile. “Good to see you too, Dane.”
Oh my god, how can there be so many “goods” in one sentence? I sound like a doll on repeat. But Dane merely laughs and turns to face me, sticking his hands halfway into his jean pockets.
“Yeah, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you and the first thing I do is make you watch me terrorize my sister! Oh well, just like the good old days. How have you been? Pumped for senior year I bet?”
Dane is talking to me. I can’t believe this. Dane never used to actually take an interest in my life.
Then, I try to get a hold of myself.
Oh, don’t be silly Zoe, he’s just being polite.
“I’ve been great,” I manage with a smile. “And I’m definitely ready for senior year to come because I’m going to start applying to art schools in the fall.”
Mr. Reston jumps in at this.
“Ah, glad to hear you finally convinced your parents that art is your path in life.”
I smile weakly in return because in fact, my parents still don’t approve. They think I need to find a “real career” and don’t think art is a viable option. It’s really frustrating, and I’ve talked to Patty’s parents about this more than I have my own. I’m grateful to her parents because it’s like having a second family that I can reach out to for advice. As a result, I’m pretty open with my struggles.
“Actually, we still disagree on the matter, but I can’t imagine myself going to school for anything like business or accounting like my parents want me to. And it’s not like I am naïve or uninformed. I know it’s hard to make a living as an artist, but I love my art so I have to do it. I think I’m just going to apply and wait to see if I even get in anywhere before talking to my parents about this again.”
I feel my chest grow heavy just discussing the subject. I hate to lie to Conrad and June, but I know I need to stay true to myself and my passions.
“If you get in?” Patty exclaims, breaking out in laughter. She gets up and starts walking around the room, gesturing as if she is making a speech to a room filled with people. This is typical Patty for you: the entertainer. And she has fully embraced this archetype. She even does standup comedy at the monthly open mic nights hosted by the coffee shop downtown.
“Do you hear that, guys? Zoe says ‘if’ she gets in! Silly, silly Zoe. Those schools would be insane to not accept you. Zoe is a young, hip Salvador Dali, Picasso, or Monet. I’d say Van Gogh but I really don’t want you to have to lose an ear because that would be awful.”
Dane takes this opportunity to study me, and I feel my heart fluttering under his intense blue gaze.
“Is that right?” he asks in a low voice. “You’re an artist?”
I nod.
“Yeah, my parents aren’t really into it, but I love being creative. I can’t imagine going to school for anything else.”
He looks thoughtful and then nods.
“You have to follow your passion,” he says finally. “There’s no other way to live life.”
His words make sense because Dane is an artist too. He works at a tattoo parlor downtown, and he’s developed quite a name for himself. I know people come from miles around, and sometimes even other states, to get their tattoos done by him. He’s unparalleled when it comes to the look of fine brushwork, and I’d love to talk with him more about this.
But of course right now, I’m utterly tongue-tied. I want to respond with something intelligent, inspirational, and even moving. Instead, all I can do is stare back with a wildly cheesy smile. The handsome man smirks playfully and then turns to the door, grabbing a black backpack on the way.
“See you guys,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll catch you next weekend. Bye Dad, bye Pats. Bye Zoe.”
Then, the roar of his Harley sounds in the driveway, and we see a dark figure zoom off down the street.
“Next weekend?” I ask my friend. “What’s going on next weekend? I thought your brother hardly ever came home anymore.”
She nods.
“Silly, did you forget? It’s our annual Fourth of July bash. You’re coming right?”
I nod furiously.
“Oh of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The words seem to echo as they leave my lips. The air in the room feels thick, the floor unsteady beneath my feet. He’ll be back next weekend, and I’m aroused merely from the thought. It’s crazy. Patty doesn’t notice, thankfully, because she’s too wrapped up talking smack about her brother.