CHAPTER TEN
Just another day in paradise, I think as I head to art class. I’m really glad I met all my general physical education requirements already or I’d be in a class humiliating myself. Uncoordinated doesn’t even begin to describe me. If I aim at something, I miss by a mile. If I don’t aim, I sometimes hit the target.
I can’t hit a baseball for the life of me and forget about dribbling a basketball. It gets stolen every time—or bounces off my foot. I’ve never played football and I really don’t want to. I’ve tried golf and I did pretty well at teeing off—it’s the putting that gets me. You’d think I’d be good at putting since I’m an ace at playing pool. Nope. I can swim like a fish, though that doesn’t take much coordination, does it? Maybe it does, just a little. They asked me to help with the Lifesaving class that meets Tuesdays and Thursdays, second period, just before this one. It’s some sort of special credit, so why not?
“Welcome. Another sunny day in Shell Beach,” Mrs. Gibson greets.
“Thanks,” I mumble. “Jillian Fox.” She’s right. It’s always sunny here, though I’m living in gloom and doom with a thundercloud over my head. Its name is Ellen and Leo. I tried to think of a celebrity mesh of their names for the cloud, but they all sounded lame. Elleo. Lellen. Ello. Gah.
“Do you go by Jillian?” Mrs. Gibson asks.
“Jillie, usually.”
She nods. “I’ll make note of that.” And she does. Right in front of me. “Head to any of the available seats.”
I turn around and there aren’t very many students in the class. I sigh. Art is becoming a lost art. I don’t want it to be like that. People should love art. It’s creativity and beauty and colors and impulsiveness. It’s splendor on a canvas.
I love to draw. I’m not the best at watercolors but I’m killer with oils and acrylics.
I count. Fifteen students. The other classes have double that. This is so sad. Unless maybe we’re the only ones who met our P.E. requirements. That would make sense.
Then she walks in. Ellen. Leo’s go-to girl. His regular. It ticks me off to think about it, and I don’t even know why. I have no right to feel this way. Well, yes, I do. If I had known he had a regular chick he banged on the side, I don’t think I’d have… I sigh inwardly. Yeah, I probably would have. It was the moment. It was magical.Hewas magical.
What happened to that guy—Jack? Is that someone he keeps to himself? Or is Lenny the real Jack?
No, no, no. Don’t sit by me. Do. Not. Sit. By. Me.
Gah. She sat by me.
I’m not afraid of her, per se, what I don’t like is her curiosity as far as me and Lenny are concerned. I don’t want anyone to know about that. I have a feeling if it gets out, she’ll have a field day being cruel about it.
I can feel her stare.
Don’t be a sissy, Jillie. Look at her.
I turn and give her a fake half smile—you know the one. It’s hideous and there’s no mistaking it for genuine, but we all have to fake it sometimes. Her eyes narrow.
Oh boy.
“Jillian, is it?” she asks.
“Jillie.”
She nods. “I’m Ellen.”
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Ella.”
“It’s Ellen.”
“Didn’t I say that?” Her cheeks flush.
“No.”
“Oh. Sorry. I helped out with Lifesaving class last period and I must still have water in my ears.” Inside, I’m laughing, and I can’t wait to tell Audrey and Isla.
“Anyway, Jillie, how do you know Leo?”
Her glare isn’t inviting me to answer. It’s demanding it. I don’t do well with demands.
