It took twenty minutes for the call to go through: the line kept being busy.It took another ten minutes for his teacher to connect with someone, wait for them to track down Adrien’s mother, and bring her to the store’s phone.
“Hey Mrs.Marin,” the teacher said.Adrien flinched, shrinking into himself.His mother wouldn’t be happy hearing her dead husband’s surname.The teacher frowned at the reply.“Sorry, Ms.Porter.This is Frank Yang, I’m Adrien’s math teacher.Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could come down to the elementary school to talk, I got all your kids here—”
A pause.Adrien could hear his mother’s furious, tinny little voice on the other line.The teacher responded: “Because I caught your son spray painting the bathrooms at Moscone Park.”
Mr.Yang sighed as Adrien’s mother lit up the other line of the phone with another tirade, glancing at Adrien out of the corner of his eye.“No, he’s not in trouble.”
Adrien could hear his mother shout on the other line: “How the hell could he not be in trouble?!”
“Look, ma’am, I think we all need to get together with the school counselor to talk this over,” Mr.Yang told her, voice gentle.“Adrien is a great kid.This is the first time he’s ever acted out like this.I don’t want him to get in trouble for something he could work out or express in a healthier way—yes, I’ll put him on the line.”
Mr.Yang handed over the phone, expression apologetic.Adrien almost said he didn’t want to talk to her, but thought that would only make her angrier.He took the phone.
“Hi Mom,” he said, tone dead.
“Adrien Kaito Porter-Marin, what thehellis wrong with you?!”she screamed over the line.“You wait and see what I’ll do to you when I get home.”
The rest of the conversation was a blur, but all Adrien remembered was what Mr.Yang told him as he handed him and his siblings their Muni fare and sent them on their way home:
“You have a real talent, kid.Don’t waste it on the side of public restrooms, okay?”
His mom didn’t come home that night.Adrien fully understood that her earlier threat was just to mess with him.She’d promised to punish him when she got home, but coming straight back and letting him have it would have been merciful.It was the waiting—thewondering—that was the worst part: the Joyce Porter in his mind did worse things to him than the real one could ever cook up.
She ended up ignoring him for the rest of the week instead.
30
1992
They never got together with the school counselor.Instead, Adrien was sent home several months later with a pamphlet about a youth art camp that the school district was putting on for free that summer.His mother took one look at it and threw it in the trash.
“Don’t waste your time on that crap,” she said, puffing away on her cigarette.“I need you here watching the kids, not wasting your time with that hippy shit.”
“But I already talked to Mrs.Hernandez about it,” Adrien insisted.“She said I could bring them with me… and also that it would look really good on my college applications.”
His mother hesitated.She then heaved a long sigh.“Fine.But you have to pay for your own Muni fare.”
The art camp ended up being one of the best things Adrien ever did for himself.It was there that he met Erika Honda, and she introduced him to proper street art.Every day she’d bring a copy of a different art book for them to pore over and the two of them would try their best to incorporate the designs into their own works.
One day in their freshman year of high school, Erika dropped a glossy-paged volume in front of Adrien during homeroom.She smirked down at him in glee.
“Keith Haring,” she announced, chest puffed out in pride.Adrien pushed aside his can of Pineapple Slice, flipping through the publication.
“Where did you get this?!”he gasped, riffling through the pages.
“Golden Gate Library, actually,” she told him, folding her arms over her chest in triumph.“They sell old books at the end of every year—it’s ours to keep.”
“These are amazing,” Adrien marveled, tracing his fingers over the designs.He gaped at a picture ofunfinished painting, trailing his fingertips along the intricate designs rendered in indigo, dragging his nail down the drips of paint streaked across the blank portion of the canvas.
Erika continued to grin.“I knew you’d like it.”
“I didn’t know he did sculptures, too!”he said, gesturing for Erika to look at a bright orange and green bust.“Look at how complicated the patterns on the skin are!This must have takendays.”
“Youcould make something like that.”Erika regarded the piece, thoughtful.
Adrien stared up at her, mouth agape.“What?!No way, I could never come up with enough to fill all this space.”
“I see the stuff you make in ceramics every week!”Erika insisted.“You’regood.”
