Hazel grinned without looking up.“You squint when you read too long.I’m sure you wear reading glasses when you work at home.”
I wasn’t going to tell her she was right.
“You just think it’s funny.Those glasses are even bigger than my head.”
“Duh,” she admitted.“Besides, I need filler art.The deadline’s next week.”
“What deadline?”
“Yearbook layouts.We have to finalize it all by the end of the month so we can send to the printer in April.”
“You are not putting a chibi me into the yearbook.”
“Too late,” she practically sang and finally looked up at me with a big grin.
I smiled faintly, tracing the edge of my notebook.Hazel had a way of keeping things light, of seeing people without making it uncomfortable.Maybe that came from the photography thing—she was so good at catching moments, not just faces.Important moments, the kind where you know something in that person changed in that very moment.
“How’s the music coming along?”she asked.
I shrugged.“Slow.Everything’s been...slow.”
She studied me for a beat, her expression softening.“It’ll come back.It always does with you.”
I raised an eyebrow, wondering what she meant.At the same time, I wanted to believe her.But lately, even my music felt stuck.Like the notes wouldn’t line up right no matter how hard I tried.Everything around me seemed to be moving forward while I was still standing in place.
Hazel went back to shading in her doodle of me, humming quietly under her breath.The soft scrape of her pencil filled the silence, steady and grounding.For a moment, it almost worked.
Then the clock seemed to slow down too much and the restlessness that had been sitting in my chest all morning came back, but with vengeance this time.
My focus kept slipping from my homework.One minute I was reading the words in the book, the next I was thinking about how Paxon had barely looked at me last night and then how concerned Seth sounded when he said goodnight.
I stood, pushing my chair back a little too quickly.“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, grabbing my hall pass.
Hazel looked up, eyebrows lifting at the suddenness of my actions.“Want me to come with?I can take a break from my masterpiece.”
I snorted.“No.Keep at it.And don’t give me any more freckles.I don’t have freckles.”
“So you believe,” she mumbled, dipping her head back down to focus on her coloring.“You can’t deceive an artist’s eyes.”
After getting permission, I slipped into the hallway.
The air out here felt cooler and fresher.The floors were a bit dirty from people’s muddy shoes, so I was lightly squeaking as I walked.The hall was mostly empty except I could hear a low rumble of someone’s voice around the corner.
I turned and paused.
Bryan was leaning against the lockers near the exit, phone pressed to his ear.His mouth was tight, eyebrows furrowing.His voice was low but sharp, like every word was a battle to keep himself from snapping.
“No, Dad, I told you I haven’t decided yet,” he said, his tone clipped.A pause.“Because it’s my choice, that’s why.I know what you want, but—” He cut himself off, sighing as he rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.“I’ll call you later.I’m supposed to be in class.”
He hung up and stood there for a second, staring down at his phone before slipping it into his pocket.When he looked up and saw me, his expression shifted into surprise but then softened.He gave a short, humorless laugh.“You’ve got perfect timing.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, stepping closer.
“You didn’t.”He straightened, brushing his hands down his sweater like he could shake off the conversation.“You heading somewhere?”
“Bathroom,” I said.
He nodded once.“I’ll walk you.”
