NOLAN’S ROOM. KEEP OUT. NO TRESPASSING. ANY FORBIDDEN ENTRANCE WILL RESULT IN BODILY HARM AND INJURY. IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU, KEEP OUT.
The last ‘keep out’ is underlined multiple times.
“So walking right in is probably not a good idea, right?” Miles says out of the corner of his mouth.
I smack my lips at him. “It would be a very bad idea; just knock and see if he answers.”
Extending a hand, he knocks on the door and waits. Nothing at first. When he knocks a second time, there’s the sound of shuffling on the other side. Suddenly, the door swings open and a boy who can’t be more than sixteen is staring at us from the other side of the threshold. He’s wearing a zip-up hoodie that’s threatening to swallow him whole and a pair of jeans with more pockets in them than I can count. His hair is dark, nearly black, and is grown out and covering part of his face. Somehow, he has a tattoo on his neck that I can’t make out the design of and his fingernails are painted black to match his sweatshirt. Behind him, I can see pages and pages of line art and sketches hung up on the walls.
“Who the hell are you?” he spits, giving us his best scowl.
“Who the hell are you?” Miles barks back, matching his attitude.
The boy looks around like he isn’t sure what to do. Rolling his eyes, he goes to slam the door but Miles stops him by jamming his foot in the doorway.
“There’s food trucks outside, you hungry?”
“Why the fuck would I get food with you? I don’t even know your name,” the boy argues.
“I’m Miles and this is Hanna,” Miles introduces. When he waves a hand in my direction, I give the boy a polite nod. His eyes bounce between the two of us.
“S-well,” he leers before screwing his face up into a grimace. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“Did you draw all of those?” I hurry out before he tries to close the door again.
This gets him to pause and look back towards the pages littered on his walls.
“Inspired by the icons, I see. You’re like a modern day Rembrandt,” I compliment.
This gets him snuffing out a laugh. “No oneis like a modern day Rembrandt. Especially me. Anyone who tries to be on his level is nothing but a poser.”
“Poser or not, you’re pretty good. With a little work, maybe some professional supplies, you could be great.” I keep my tone even and soft. I don’t want him to think I’m blowing smoke to get him to like me. The kid really does have some natural talent in him. I can tell by looking at his sketches.
Nolan looks towards his shoes which have seen better, and cleaner, days and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets. He chews on his bottom lip, sucking on the metal hoop that’s been punched through the bottom corner of his mouth. He anxiously glances at me a few times before mumbling under his breath.
“I’ve always wanted to take a drawing class.”
Miles glances at me optimistically and nods, encouraging me to keep talking.
“We could talk about getting that set up for you. I have a friend who’s really big in the music scene, but I’m sure he knows some local artists who might be willing to sit with you,” I offer.
George is all about supporting creatives when and where he can. While music is more his speed, I know he has connections in the art world and would be more than happy to ask for a favor if I asked him to.
“Yeah right, like any real artist would do that.”
“You never know if you never ask.” I shrug. “Come to lunch with us and I’ll call my friend. Maybe he can get us something set up for next week. Miles and I can come back and take you if you want.”
Nolan seems to consider my offer and shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Sure, I’d like that.”
“So would I,” Miles hums, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Well, come on, food isn’t going to eat itself. Once we eat, I’ll call my friend and see what we can get figured out.” I wave my hand at him and smile.
He steps out of his room finally and leads us down the hallways and back outside with Miles and I behind him, hands intertwined, the entire way.
Several hours later,Miles and I are driving back to my apartment after spending the afternoon at Fresh Start. As promised, I called George and told him what I needed and he was ecstatic about the prospects of connecting local youth interested in the arts with local artists. As expected, he called me back not even half an hour later with the contact information of one of his friends who said they’d be happy to meet with Nolan and give him a lesson or two. Once he heard about his lesson, Nolan opened up and became a totally new person. He even drew a quick sketch of Miles and I sitting next to each other in the mini sketchbook he keeps stashed away in his pocket. The art is messy and a little disjointed, but you could make out two people sitting next to one another fine enough. He ripped it out and handed it to me, promising to draw me a better one once he learned a thing or two. Hemight not believe it, but I think it’s perfect just the way it is.
Sitting next to him, I realize that Miles also started to show more of who he truly is today, just like Nolan. Getting to watch him with Sam and Patti and play with the kids showed me that there’s a whole different side of him that, for whatever reason, he keeps tucked away most of the time. One that laughs loudly and chases a football like he’s still a kid. I thought I was going to melt into a puddle when I saw him throw one of the youngest kids at Fresh Start over his shoulder and sprint towards the invisible end zone while the kid held onto the football for dear life. The team cheered and laughed and dog piled on top of him once he set the kid down and fell into the grass. His eyes found mine quickly once they got off of him and he stood up.
