“Thanks,” I say.
We stand there in silence for a few seconds.
“Wanna watch TV?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“I’ll grab some snacks.”
I take a pack of salt and vinegar chips from the pantry and join Ethan on the couch, who’s already taken control of theremote. He complains because he thinks salt and vinegar is the worst chips flavour, but I tell him that it’s my house, my rules, and besides, we didn't have any other flavours.
We end up watching a TV show that follows the host, a mid-forties man with conventional good looks and a strong Australian accent, who travels into the outback and meets tiger snakes and kangaroos. I’ve never been particularly interested in wildlife or terrifyingly venomous reptiles, but the show’s entertaining enough to distract me. Especially when Ethan begins a commentary on which animals he could beat in a fight.
“You know what?” Ethan says halfway through the second episode.
“What?” I say.
“You know how you like art and shit? Does that mean you like paint stuff?”
“Mostly, I draw.”
“Maybe you could draw something for Jude. I made a card for Mimi once when she was upset with me. I just decorated it with stickers, ribbons, and glitter, but you could make something way cooler.”
“A drawing isn’t going to fix the fact that he's mad at me,” I say.
Ethan shrugs. “The card I made looked like total crap, like a kindergartener had vomited glitter all over it, but Mimi loved it anyway because it’s the thought that counts. So it’s just an idea. But hey, what do I know? I’ve only been with my girlfriend for one year, two months, and eleven days.”
“Alright, alright,” I say. “I’ll think about it.”
When Ethan goes home that evening, I’m surprised to realise I don’t feel as horrible as I did this morning. I thought I’d have a huge fight with Ethan where he announced that no one wanted to be my friend anymore, but really, we only talked for five minutes before chilling out for the rest of the afternoon.
After dinner with Mum and Dad, I head to my room and think about Jude. I haven't made an effort to reach out to him because I figured he wanted his space, but maybe there's a way I can show him that I still care and that I'm still sorry without forcing him into a conversation he’s not ready for with me.
I turn on my computer, which connects to my drawing tablet. I slide on a glove for my right hand and pick up the stylus. Then I start to draw.
20
Jude: Carried Away
There’s a knock at my bedroom door. Yesterday must have really happened because Mum usually just barges into my room.
I pause my study playlist, which is full of instrumental covers of pop songs. I still feel too empty to do any actual work, so I’ve been busying myself with mindless tasks like filling my digital calendar with test and exam dates. “Yeah?” I say.
Mum opens the door. “Someone’s here for you.”
“Who?”
“He says he’s your classmate. His name is Aaron —”
I shoot out of my seat, and I’m halfway out of my room when my brain catches up with my legs and forces myself to stop. What the hell? There’s no way Aaron is actually here. But if he is…do I really want to see him right now?
Screw it. I do. I really do.
Aaron waits in the kitchen, holding an A4 envelope, his elbows tucked close to his body like he’s scared he’ll accidentally touch something he’s not meant to. When he sees me, he gives me a smile that’s pretty close to a grimace. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply.
We stand in silence for a second. Two seconds. Three —
