Why would they paint something that causes them so much pain? And why does the source of their pain look so much like me?
I don’t have all the answers, but now, at least, I have one.
Phantom’s ignoring me.
Hot tears scald my cheeks as I storm off toward my dorm. As I stew, I try to convince myself it’s for the best. Being friends withPhantom was making me feel... too much, anyway. It wasn’t a normal friendship. I know that.
So, then, why is my body craving those feelings more than oxygen right now?
My sour mood persists, and at the moment, on the phone with Noah, he’s on the receiving end of it.
“Why are you so angry with me?” Noah asks, his tone indignant.
I sigh as I look around the quad, now dressed in the vibrant hues of autumn thanks to a fresh coat of fallen leaves. “I’m not angry. I’m sorry. I’m just in a bad mood.”
“That’s all right, it’s just—”
“What?”
“Everything feels off,” Noah explains, exasperated. “One day you’re happy, the next you’re down, and now you’re angry. And you’re not giving me the full story. I have no idea what’s going on with you.”
“I—” But I don’t know what to say.
“Are you even happy at Lizbeth?” he asks, voice softening.
“I love my friends, the campus, my professors, the art...”
“But?”
Do I tell Noah about Phantom?
I feel like I should because I hate the thought of keeping another secret from him. And yet, I have this insanely irrational impulse to keep them all to myself, to not share them with anyone else, even verbally. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and it makes my skin crawl.
“But nothing,” I say while I itch at my scalp with an overgrown fingernail. “I’m just tired. I’m sorry you’re getting caught in the crossfire, babe.”
Noah sighs in resignation. “That’s okay.”
I smile, though it’s paper thin. I’m grateful Noah can’t see it.
“You have to get to class, right?” he asks, reminding me of the time.
“Shit, yeah. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
“You too.”
After we hang up, I weave through small groups of students as I jog back to the Dalí Building. As I’m ascending the steps, I hear my name called out behind me. “Maeve!”
I turn to find Claire’s younger brother, Joey, jogging toward me. He’s one year younger, a freshman, but they look so close in age they could easily be mistaken for fraternal twins.
“Hi, Joey,” I offer in greeting as he bounds up the steps to reach me. “What’s up?”
His red hair glistens in the pale afternoon light. “Claire wanted me to ask if you’d stop by her dorm room later this afternoon. She’s got a project she wants your opinion on.”
“My opinion?” My eyebrows creep toward my hairline.
“Yup. I guess Iris has been talking you up. She’s really excited to show you what she’s been working on.”
