“You should appreciate them.”
I’m about to say something, but he focuses on the project, and whatever he said flows out the window like a soft breeze.
It takes us another hour and a half to finish the project. I’m proud of our work. Eventhough we’re not friends and hardly talked, we work well together.
I smile at him. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get an A.”
He shrugs.
“You don’t care?” I prod.
He shrugs again, pushing that hair over his face. “No.”
“Oh. But how will you get into a good college if your grades suck?”
His eyes slowly move to mine. I can’t see them well because they’re hidden in his hair, but I can tell they’re empty. Hollow. Like the life has been sucked out of them.
“I don’t care about college,” he says. It looks like he wants to add that he doesn’t care about anything.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess it’s not for everyone. So what do you want to do after you graduate? I know we’ve got two years until then, but...”
He shrugs for a third time.
We sit in silence. I’m kind of wondering why he’s not leaving. Now that the project is done, he has no reason to stay.
“There are so many art schools,” I find myself saying. “You plan on applying to any?”
“No.”
“Can I see your drawings?”
“No.”
I tap my fingers on the table. He watches me with those empty eyes.
Why in the world isn’t he leaving? Could it be hewantsto spend more time with me? No, that’s silly. He doesn’t like me.
“So, um…” I’m trying to come up with something to say to ease this awkwardness. I’m not comfortable just sitting here like this. And I’m driving myself crazy wondering why he’s not going home.
His eyes shift to mine. It looks like he wants to say something, but presses his mouth shut. I stare at the wall, then the ceiling.
My phone rings, and I’m so glad for the distraction that I grab it with so much force it soars off the table, landing near Ryan’s foot. He sweeps it off the floor and hands it to me.
“Thanks. Hey, Jenna,” I say into the phone.
“Hey. Jason told me Ryan came to your house to work on your history project.”
My eyes move to his and I find him watching me like he has nothing else to do. “Yeah, he’s, um, still here.”
His eyebrows furrow. I hope he doesn’t think I’m talking about him. I mean, I am, but not inthatway.
“Ooh,” she says. “Looks like you guys like each other as more than friends. But Art, are you sure about this? He ditched you at the festival. I know you have a crush, but—”
“I don’t anymore,” I quickly say. “And we’re just working on the project.”
“Good, because the last thing I want is to see you get hurt. You know, people are starting to talk about him. He’s a little weird, don’t you think?”
“I don’t care what anyone says.” Why in the world am I defending him?
