Parker spluttered out a laugh, but my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Why did some old people feel like they could say whatever came to mind? And they weren’t finished.
“I wish Earl still looked at me like that boy’s looking at her,”the first one said. “Like she’s the only one in the room. These days, he only looks at his dinner that way.”
“Well, you are a very good cook.”
As the group moved out of earshot, I turned to Parker, and my heart swelled when I found his eyes already on me.
I glanced back at my painting. Parker cleared his throat. “Uh, you were telling me about your mixed-media piece,” he prompted. “You’re rethinking it?”
“I am. I just…” My voice drifted as I tried to search for the right words. “My idea was to display the changing face of hockey over the years. The base layer was a collage of old hockey team photos, but whenever I looked at it, it just made me mad.”
“Why?”
“Because it was covered in boys’ faces.”
He nodded with understanding. “So, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking, screw the boys. I should be creating something that champions the girls who play hockey. The ones who paved the way over the years for people like me.”
The feeling had been cemented last night after talking to my dad. Now that I knew what my mom had gone through, I didn’t want it to be hidden or forgotten. I wanted to tell her story, and honor other women and girls who played this sport.
“So do it.” Parker slowly started to grin. “Throw the old piece out and start again.”
I laughed softly. “That easy, huh?”
“Why not? That’s what I did with my project. My initial concept wasn’t working, but then something else inspired me.”
“You changed your mind about the naked selfie?” I pretended to look disappointed.
He shook his head, still smiling. “I went with something I think you’ll like a lot better.” But a moment later his eyes dropped to the floor, as though he was suddenly less confident that was true. “Do you want to see the final piece?”
For some reason, I felt nervous. Perhaps it was because he seemed a little unsure too. Parker didn’t often show vulnerability, but right now he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Do youwantme to see it?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Yes, of course, I do…”
“And you’re sure it’s not a naked selfie…”
“What’s the problem? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve scrubbed that encounter firmly from my mind.”
His head tipped forward as he chuckled. I loved it when he laughed that way; unguarded and unfiltered. It was like catching a glimpse of the real Parker. The one who hid beneath layers of flirty lines, smirks, and mischief. The one I was falling for.
“Well, if you ever need reminding, there’s plenty of photographic evidence.”
“Are you showing me your artwork or not?” I said.
“Yeah, it’s this way.” I swore Parker blushed as I followed him across the room. He’d been awfully secretive recently about whatever he was working on and, despite a few attempts in class, I hadn’t managed to catch a glimpse of it yet.
When he finally stopped by a piece on the wall, Parker said,“It’s not very good.”
I frowned at him, still wondering why he was acting so nervous. But as I looked up at the wall, my breath caught. I was immediately struck by Parker’s talent. He’d created a comic strip that was so good it looked professional. I stepped forward to get a closer look, and stilled when I saw the first frames.
There, drawn with beautifully vivid colors and painstaking detail, was a cheeky-looking raccoon. In the first frame it was waking up and climbing out of its dumpster, and in the second frame it was stealing someone’s clothes. I glared at him.
“Just keep reading it.” He smiled back.
