“Is Keomi, Fabian or Geneviève your best friend?” I asked curiously,
“They’re all my best friends silly. I mean have you seen them? They need someone to balance out all their chaos.” She laughed and so did I.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I agreed,
“I mean there used to be another balance but I don’t think I should talk about that.” She sighed,
“You can talk to me about whatever is on your heart, whenever you’re ready.” I reminded her.
I find it peculiar how despite the fact that their friendship group all made an agreement not to discuss any matters relating to Jace, they all individually let something slip to me. They all swore that they never talk about it and yet each and every one of them, aside from Geneviève of course had told me a little truth or two about him. Perhaps Keomi was right, perhaps the burden was becoming far too much for them all to bear.
“We had a friend who died last year, he was usually the calm one who kept everyone at bay. But when he passed all hell broke loose and I had to find a way to be that person for them.” She disclosed,
“Wow, that’s a huge responsibility.” I acknowledged placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I know but I’m happy to take it, although sometimes I can’t help but feel like I’m nothing but a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.” She explained to me, her eyes slightly teary. I wanted to change the subject to something lighter for her sake.
"Where are you from Mer?" I asked and she shut down her laptop,
"Kingston, Jamaica." She told me, grabbing her backpack and proudly showing me the flag on her keychain. "But just like you, I spent a lot of time with my daddy in the US, so my accent isn't exactly legit."
"I always felt like I didn't belong anywhere, like I was living between two worlds where two different Armani's existed." I reflected and something about the way she looked at me, told me we'd found some common ground, an understanding of sorts.
"I feel you; I had the Merilla who loved dancing and helping her mummy out at the reggae music store back in Kingston and the Merilla who was a budding artist and barely had friends in Arizona." She reminisced looking down, "That shit wasn't easy to deal with."
"Every time I visited my home in Nairobi, I always had my cousins making me feel like I wasn't African enough since I moved away, it's not like I wanted to anyway, but I knew that Florida offered me a chance at a better life and more opportunities." I added, "Do you ever talk to the others about Jamaica?"
"I want to sometimes, but I doubt they'd understand, but you do Armani and I'm grateful for that." Merilla smiled, grabbing hold of my hands, "Now come on we've got to get to class."
My last class of the day was Art, as usual, and I was a little late because I had to walk halfway across campus to get to the left-wing, and I may or may not have stopped at a confectionery stand to buy a pack of gummy worms, but hey who was I to resist the golden opportunity?
When I walked into class everyone was crowded around the corner of the class to see something monsieur Etienne was holding up, I wasn't too curious about what it was until I heard someone say it was unlike anything they'd ever seen before and it was then I knew I had to see it for myself. I shoved past a few busybodies and made my way to the front of the crowd to get a clear view and when I say that me being in shock was a complete understatement. Monsieur Etienne was holding up an abstract nude painting of a dark-skinned woman, it was beyond impressive, and I wondered where he'd purchased it.
Each brush stroke had a smudging quality with hues of red, blue, and brown paint creating this watercolor purple scene. Every curve of the woman's body was captured perfectly, and I'd imagined it was painted by her lover- or at least someone who truly knew every inch of her being. It was a personal painting, with an intimate feeling you couldn't ignore.
But then my gaze caught the signature on the bottom left of the painting, and my heart dropped, RK was written in cursive. And it was then that I realized and felt stupid for not knowing sooner that this wasn't just any woman's body, but it was my body. He’d messaged me yesterday asking for permission to display it so I don’t know why I was surprised and didn’t recognize it sooner. Perhaps I should’ve been upset about it, but how could I? It was magnificent and it made me feel strangely confident. I wanted him to be able to show this piece to the class, maybe because it felt rather thrilling to know that we had this little secret, that no one would know it was me.
"Now now settle down class, merci!" Monsieur Ettiene exclaimed and the class went silent,
"This is a nude abstract piece by our very own River Kennedy entitled fille de rêve, or dream girl in English. It wasn't assigned but he brought it to me for guidance and while it's far from perfect...it's hard to ignore the sheer talent."
My eye turned to the back of the class where River was seated watching everyone fuss and gush over his artwork, I couldn't help but feel a little timid and exposed even though no one knew or suspected it was me. A faint sinister smirk played on his god-like face, daring me to look away.
"I can't believe it," I murmured to myself rubbing my temples,
"You better believe it, what did I tell you on your first day here, new girl?" Victoria King chimed appearing in front of me with her arms folded, she was dressed in all black and her long black hair cascaded down to her elbows, she'd cut bangs now and she looked an awful lot like Wednesday Adams.
"What?" I perplexed, not even paying attention,
"River is monsieur Ettiene's prodigy, his fucking lifeline, and the school's personal trophy they like to show off any chance they get." Victoria badgered glancing towards River who was no longer interested and no longer paying attention to me.
“No he’s not…” I wavered,
"Oh yeah?" She challenged, "Who's sculpture do you think is up in Principal Dubois office right now, who's paintings are all over the assembly hall?"
"There's no way those are all his I-" I began but she cut me off,
"They are, and all our work gets cooped up in here for no one to see until their ridiculous pity exhibits they hold every end of the term." Victoria addressed,
