I cleared my throat. “I mean, since the last time we talked.”Since I ran away from you and ignored you because you made me want things I shouldn’t want and thought I was strong enough toresist.
He frowned, like he was considering his answer, before finally deciding on, “It’s been a long two weeks.” He grinned again. “Annoyingly productive. I cleaned out the attic over my garage and got caught up on my paperwork.” He opened the passenger door of his truck for me and held out his hand for my backpack, then laid it gently in the backseat. “What aboutyou?”
“Uh…” I waited for him to walk around the hood and climb in before answering. “It’s been good, I guess? Classesstarted.”
He nodded. “You settling in at theschool?”
“Yeah.”
We drove on in silence for a minute but God, there were so many things I’d been thinking about these past couple of weeks, so many silly stories and surprising experiences, that it felt like my brain might overflow if I didn’t share them. My friends in Boston had been great about staying in touch, but they might as well have been on a differentplanetfor all that our lives had in common right now. And I realized that Si was maybe the only person in the world who mightunderstand.
“I thought teaching kids was going to be one of the harder aspects of moving here, but it’s actually beengreat.”
Si glanced at me and smiled. Warm, comfortable. “I can see that. Sometimes they’re really funny. It’s relaxing to be aroundthem.”
“Exactly! They’re young enough that they say what they mean most of the time. And they make me see thingsdifferently.”
“Howso?”
“Well, I had them do self-portraits last week. Draw yourself doing something that makes you happy, I toldthem.”
“Self-portraits?” He whistled low as he started the car and backed out of the parking space. “Just jumping right in the deep end, eh? And next week they’re carving statues out of marble with minichisels?”
“Shut up.” I slapped his arm lightly. “I’m not expecting mini-Van Goghs here, Silas! It’s mostly just a baseline to see what they already notice aboutform.”
His expression was dubious. “Form?”
“Like, kindergarteners draw bodies as sticks, you know? Older kids make them two-dimensional; one big rectangle with four smaller rectangles attached.” I waved my arms in illustration. “And then eventually they get that there are fingers attached to hands attached to arms, andhey, we actually exist in three dimensions with shadows and light. That kind ofthing.”
Si glanced at me again. “Okay, first of all, I feel very judged right now, Everett. Some thirty-eight-year-olds draw bodies as sticks as a stylisticchoice.”
I bit my lip. “I… I’m sorry. Of course, you’re right. Well, Frannie and Sivan Siegel are identical twins, and…” I caught myself and rolled my eyes. “I mean, obviously you knowthat.”
“I do,” he agreed. “Can’t tell them apart, though. They’re mirrorimages.”
“Right?” I was usually pretty good at spotting differences, but as an outsider, it seemed these girls were identical down to their expressions. “So I’m expecting, you know, some variation of lines and rectangles.Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” I added, leaning over to pat his arm. “But they’re both actually super talented. And the coolest part was that the way each girl drew herself wascompletelydifferent.”
Si made an encouraging noise, like he was really interested, and I found myself spilling my guts. We had pulled away from the buildings in town and sped up, flying past acres and acres of open land and pretty little houses. There was something freeing in that,too.
“Frannie drew herself with her sister and parents - one, two, three, four, in a row like stair-steps. And even though she and Sivan are the same height in real life, she drew herself bigger. Her smile was wider, her eyes more open. She’s the bigger personality of the two, the more protective one, and she knows it on a deeplevel.”
“And did Sivan draw herselfsmaller?”
“No.” I laughed. “She didn’t draw her family at all. She did this incredibly realistic portrait of herself in the woods petting a deer. The color of the deer’s pelt was spot-on. The bark of the tree was, like, ten different shades of brown, all intricately blended. And then her own face was basically a sphere with brown circle eyes and a red smile. That was the partshecaredabout.”
He looked over at me, his gaze slipping over my face and catching on my mouth. “And you didn’t mind,” he guessed. “Because you know what it’s like to get caught up in something. Your anthropomorphic… squirrels, wasit?”
I nodded. I had no clue how he remembered that, but he did. “I loved that she got passionate about something. Probably means I’m a crap teacher,” I allowed with a chuckle. “But maybe they’ll get someone better nextyear.”
“She’ll remember you her whole life,” he corrected me. “All it takes is one awesome teacher to inspire anartist.”
Si was somber, just a little bit, and I wondered if he was thinking of the brother he’d lost. I both wanted him to talk to me about it and didn’t. I wasn’t sure how much of myself I wanted to share, or how much of him I was ready tohandle.
It didn’t matter, though. A second later, Si slowed the truck to a stop and pointed at three tall, metal structures set side-by-side, high up on ahill.
“What do you think of those?” he asked, pointing with barely suppressedglee.
“What arethey?”
