“I’m messing around,” he muttered, shrugging into himself.“I’m not artistically inclined, it’s just kind of fun…”
“But what about that Voltron you made David?”Erika continued to press with an exasperated huff.“I know you made that thing from paper clay when you were like ten.”
“My mom says it looks like a piece of garbage,” Adrien retorted, closing the print book and handing it back to Erika.She pushed it back towards him, shaking her head in frustration.“She’s right.I don’t have any real talent.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she told him.“Keep it, I got it for you.”
She headed for her desk, but not before grinning over her shoulder at him.“You can look at it when you’re a big shot artist in New York and remember how right I am!”
“A big shot artist in New York, huh?”Adrien snorted to himself.
The next day Erika approached him with the proper forms to start a sculpture club in the ceramics room—her mom had already signed for it.Adrien only had to get his mom’s signature as well and they could start meeting twice a week after school.
Joyce was home late as usual, stumbling into the apartment at one AM.She didn’t even address Adrien, who was sitting at the kitchen table drafting a submission for an art installation contest in the Mission district.She went straight for the fridge and dug out that night’s dinner before starting to eat it cold over the sink.
“Hi Mom,” Adrien greeted her after a pause.She provided him with a nod before continuing to eat.“Did you have a good day at work?”
“What the fuck do you think?!”she asked, throwing her fork down into the sink with a resoundingclang.“Always with your goddamn attitude, Adrien!”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized out of habit.“I wasn’t thinking, I was just—”
“‘I was just, I was just’,” she mocked in a high-pitched tone.“That’s your problem Adrien, youneverthink!What the hell is this?”
She reached out and snatched the piece of paper from him, squinting down at the design.He flinched as she crumbled the edge in her too-tight grip.“Is this some sort of gang shit?”
“No, it’s for an art contest.They’re actually trying to prevent gang tagging in the Mission and—”
“Always on andonwith the art shit!”Joyce slurred, throwing the paper back down onto the table.“You know what you should be doing?Studying to get into a good college or working a damn job to help get us out of this shithole!If you loved your brother and sister you’d be out there hitting the pavement, not wasting your time on this faggot crap.”
She turned on her heel and wavered over to the bathroom.
Behind her, Adrien said, voice thick with spite: “Maybe if you didn’t drink half your paycheck away, we’d be out of here by now.”
His mother froze in the bathroom doorway, gripping the frame so hard that her knuckles turned white.“Excuseme?”
Adrien stood in the kitchen, fists clenched at his sides.He stared hard at the linoleum floor, too scared to look her in the eye.
“You fucking look at me when I’m talking to you, Adrien Marin!” Joyce screeched.Their neighbor’s dog started barking.“What thefuckdid you just say to me, young man?!”
“I said you need to stop drinking!”he responded with a shout of his own, meeting her glare.“You’re never home!You’re either at work or at the bar, and when youarehome you’re stumbling around everywhere like a—”
“You ungrateful fuckingbrat!”Joyce charged at him with a raised hand, raining slaps down upon his head and cheeks.Adrien winced, but took the abuse.There wasn’t anything he could do to stop her.“You wanna know what my parents would do to me if I ever spoke to them like that?!Back in my day, kids did as they weretold,you mouthy little—”
There was an urgent bang on their neighbor’s side of the wall.
“If you don’t stop yelling, I’m calling the goddamn cops!”the person on the other side shouted.
“For fuck’s sake!”Joyce screamed, throwing her arms into the air.“Look what you did, Adrien!”
Look what you did, look what you did.
31
1994
Marcos Flores.
It was his junior year, and Adrien was sitting on the bleachers, covered in yellow and maroon paint.The art club was repainting the mascot mural and he’d caught a second to sit down for a break.His sketchbook was laid out over his lap, concept art of his newest designs scribbled over the page.He was finishing a prototype for a kinetic sculpture when a long shadow blocked out the sunlight.Adrien squinted up in confusion.
