“You’re both so talented,” Ava’s father said, beaming from ear-to-ear.
Their praise and support meant the world.
Having no parents of my own to share in this achievement was difficult, but Ava’s family never made me feel excluded. It washard, though, knowing the photos they'd taken would be intheirfamily album and not my own.
While Ava and her parents went to taste test some of the cakes baked by junior food technology students, I remained by my artwork, shifting from one leg to the other as more people filed in.
Mrs Brighton had promised she would try and bring Auden, but I didn’t hold out hope. She was struggling with arthritis, and driving caused her all kinds of discomfort.
“Bit grim, innit?” a voice said to my left.
I silenced a groan as my gaze landed on Alexander, hands in his pockets as he observed my artwork.
“Fuck off,” I said.
“Rude,” Alexander pouted. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, explaining your work or something?”
“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, terrorising local neighbourhood kids?” I bit back.
Alexander rolled his eyes. “Come on, tell me. What is your artwork about?”
“I will not entertain you, Parsons.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am not in the mood.”
“You’re such a bore, Saint.”
“Then go away.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll smash your face into the dirt and use your blood on my next artwork,” Ava said, returning to my side with her arms folded over her chest.
“Ah, here she is,” Alexander smirked. “Here to save your boyfriend, McTavish?”
“I like girls, dipshit,” Ava said.
“You’re too pretty to like girls.”
“And you’re too ugly.”
Alexander shrugged. “At least I–”
“Wow,” Eden Bexley cut him off, her flawless sun-kissed skin and emerald green eyes decorated with make-up. “Your artwork is absolutely beautiful.”
Ava beamed at the compliment, my eyes darting in between Alexander’s scowl and Eden’s radiant smile.
“Thank you,” Ava said.
Alexander walked away, my eyes tracking his movements to ensure he really was leaving.
“Can you tell me a bit about it?” Eden asked, pulling a stray blonde hair behind her ear.
Ava nodded enthusiastically and explained the meaning behind her work and the process, all the while I stood to the side awkwardly, unsure whether to leave or not.
Eden was in our year, though we didn’t share any of the same classes except for history. She was a swimmer, and so she spent most of her time with the more athletic crowd whereas Ava and I were amongst the social outcasts. Not that I had a problem with that. I really didn't care for one's gym routine or the ingredients in a protein shake.
