Running Lean (24 page)

Ms. Chandler nodded. “Good assessment. Anything else?”

“Um, you can really see Zoe’s personality in the drawing.”

“In what way?”

In that she did the least amount of work she could to get the job done. Ohh …

“She intentionally leaves things out. She’s mysterious.”

“I am?” Zoe whispered.

Stacey cast a sideways glance at her and didn’t answer.

Ms. Chandler hummed, like she wasn’t sure she agreed. “All right, then. Let’s move on. This is Stacey Varnell’s work. To start us off, I must say, this is quite unlike anything I’ve seen you do all year, Stacey. It’s much more abstract than your usual work.”

“It’s not really a drawing,” someone said.

“It doesn’t have to be realistic to still be a drawing,” another person argued.

“I’m not saying it isn’t good, but it’s a collage, not a drawing.”

“I think it rocks,” Noah said. “Like, who says a drawing has to be ink or lead? Stacey used pieces of paper as her primary medium. But you can see, she placed all the colors so that they replicated the form, creating light and shadow, just like she does all the time with a pencil or charcoal. She almost didn’t need the lines she drew on top of the pieces of paper, but that she put them in, that definitely makes this a drawing. But her
drawing
isn’t just a self-portrait, even though you can tell it’s her face in the image. She’s making a statement. It has meaning. It really says something about her as a person.”

Zoe touched the backs of her fingers to Stacey’s arm. Stacey couldn’t look away from the dark angel spreading his blessings upon her work.

“She’s creative, with strong feelings about the world,” Noah went on. “About what’s right and wrong. She’s not afraid to lay herself out there if it can make a difference.”

“Oh, he’s good!” Zoe muttered.

Very. Didn’t matter that his assessment wasn’t exactly right. He
probably thought the whole exercise was bogus anyway. Still, Stacey wanted to giggle with joy at his glowing words.

Ms. Chandler’s brow wrinkled in surprise. “Well done, Noah. Thank you.”

He stepped back and slanted a glance at Stacey. “See, I’m not so useless,” he muttered.

“I never said you were.” Ms. Chandler lifted her chin. “Anyone else want to comment?”

No one did. Apparently Noah had settled the debate, or no one thought it was worth the effort to argue with him. As the students moved to the next easel, Stacey made eye contact with him and mouthed the words, “That was awesome!”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing and his lips curving into a smile. Stacey edged toward Zoe, but her hand went up to twirl her hair, and she tilted her chin down to return his smile.

“Shhhh-oooh,” Zoe breathed. “Is it getting hot in here?”

Stacey smacked her friend’s arm.

As they left the art studio for the final time that school year, Noah caught up to Stacey and slung his arm around her shoulders. Stacey’s feet stopped working.

He chuckled. “So, how’s it feel to know your work will be immortalized in the hallways of South Stiles High School next year?”

“Ha! Two weeks on display to impress the incoming freshmen. Hardly immortalization.”

“Is that a word? Immortalization?”

“Immortification, maybe?”

Noah chuckled. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. If anyone in this school makes it as an artist, it’ll be you. And me. Of course.” He pointed to his chest and grinned.

Stacey looked for Zoe and found her friend edging toward the opposite side of the hallway, gawking as if she stood in the presence of a rock star.

“So, you still seeing that other guy?”

Stacey blinked. “Oh! Uh …”

“‘Cause I’d really like to see you over the summer.” Noah took a lock of her hair between his fingers and gently tugged it, moving his grip lower until he ran out of hair. His hand lingered near her body.

Stacey found her voice. “Yes, I am. We’ve been together all school year.”

He dropped his hand down, but his arm stayed on her shoulder. “Long time.”

“Yes. I … we’re …”

Noah tilted his head and made a
tsk
sound. “Man. You got this sort of emo-fantasy look going on. I really like it. Does
he
like it?”

Had Calvin ever said so? After that day she’d arrived at school with her hair bleached and dyed, he hadn’t really mentioned it, other than to say she was beautiful in a general way. And then he was trying to get her to listen while he lectured her.

She took her hair between her own fingers. The pink had faded, no longer neon but a soft pastel. Which still looked really good, she thought.

Across the hall, Zoe’s gawk widened, like now she was watching a train wreck.

“Stacey?” a deep voice said.

Noah’s hand on Stacey’s shoulder fell away. “Whoops. Guess I’d better go.”

“What?”

She blinked again. The world came crashing in on her senses, and Calvin stood in the center of the flood.
Oh … NO!

He froze before her like a sculpture, a curly-headed, cherub-cheeked, betrayed lover. Somehow his lips moved. “I heard you were sick. I came to check on you.”

Noah had escaped down the hall. Zoe had vanished too.
Thanks a lot, y’all
.

Stacey’s heart fluttered. Her fingernail scratched the side of her face rather than finding hair to push back. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, uh, what was that all about?”

“That was Noah. He was congratulating me. Ms. Chandler is going to hang my final project in the hallway.”

Calvin’s chest rose; he was moving after all. But his face was stiff, like he refused to show any emotion. “Really,” he said flatly. “He congratulates you by touching your hair?”

“Oh. No, Calvin. He flirts with me, okay? He flirts with a lot of girls. But there’s nothing going on. I promise.”

“Really.”

“I promise.”

The muscles around his eyes pinched. “Stacey, stop—stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yeah, right.” He turned away.

Three steps. Four. She gasped and forced her own feet to move. “Calvin, don’t. Please.” She reached for his arm but missed, her fingertips grazing his skin. “Listen to me. You can ask Zoe. You can ask Noah. There’s nothing going on.”

He spun to face her. His teeth flashed like an animal’s. “I came here because I was worried about you. All I do lately is worry about you. And you keep lying to me. What am I supposed to do?”

She bounced desperately in front of him. “I’m not lying. I’m not—Maybe a little, sometimes, about the food stuff. But not now.”

“I saw his arm around you! I saw him playing with your hair. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Because, I …” Why didn’t she? Because she didn’t have the strength. “It just happened, Calvin. He never touched me before.”

His breath came out in noisy billows. He didn’t believe her. “Were you going to stop him?” It was an accusation.

“Yes. I told him you and I are still together.”

“Still? Like, he asked you before this?”

“He—” Strength ebbed out of her limbs. If she crumbled against a locker, would he try to catch her? Would it help for him to realize how much all this upset her? “Oh …” She folded, thumped a metal door, and slid down.

Calvin stood above her, looking down, not moving. She turned blurred eyes toward him, let tears dribble down her cheeks. “I’m not lying. I love you, Calvin.” Her voice squeaked. Did he hear her pain?

Calvin sighed and reached down to her. His open hand hovered before her face. Just a hand? No gentle touch? No worried look? He started to withdraw it. She clasped it before it retreated completely and hung on as he hoisted her upward. All his strength and none of hers.

On her feet again, she tilted toward him, but he stepped back. She staggered to catch herself.

“You keep saying you’re fine,” he said, his voice thick. “I can’t take the lying anymore, Stace. So … call me after you see a doctor.”

Stacey’s gaze flicked to other faces. Staring. Intruding.
Go away, people!
“But—what about now?”

“I’ll be waiting. When the doctor says you’re okay, then we’ll talk.”

“Cal—”

His eyes glistened, but were motionless. Hard. His Adam’s apple moved with a hard swallow. “Don’t take too long.”

She crunched her shoulders together and pushed out a sob. It didn’t hold him. He forced his way through the circle of nosey students watching their breakup. Stacey slumped against the locker again and dipped her chin to her shoulder to hide her shame behind the veil of her white hair. Her face burned. Tears soaked her cheeks. She heard footsteps and whispers, but no one came to comfort her.

She was alone.

C
alvin’s booted toe thumped a steady rhythm against Tyler’s front tire. Harder, harder, to draw the pain from his chest to his foot, where it’d be easier to endure.

Not working so well.

The student parking lot had nearly emptied out. Only a few cars remained around Tyler’s Camaro, including a Honda Civic parked several rows away, a blue blob beyond the teary film in Calvin’s vision.

How could she? Why? What happened to “I love you”?

He kicked the Camaro’s tire again.

“Noah Dickerson,” Tyler said. “I can’t believe that.”

Calvin shook his head. “Believe it, dude. I saw him.”

“But Noah is a total player.”

“Tell me about it. And he’s making a play for
my
girlfriend.” Calvin jabbed his thumb into his chest.

Tyler folded his arms and flopped back against the car door. “Nah, man. This can’t be right. Stacey’s too smart to get involved with a guy like him.”

“
Was
. I don’t know what she’s thinking anymore.”

“Cal, that guy has slept with half the girls in this school.” Tyler’s words came to him as if through a fog. The door to the school
building had opened, and Zoe came outside, followed by Stacey. They both stopped dead, hanging on to each other and staring at something. Probably his Yamaha still parked in the biker’s section of the lot.

“That many?” Calvin mumbled.

“Maybe not half. You know what I mean,” Tyler went on.

Stacey’s head turned. Across the wide driveway and two dozen parking spaces, her gaze locked with his. What now? Did she tense up as he did? Could she sense his hurt and anger telecasting across the lot?
Why, girl? What did I do to deserve this? And on the first day of finals!

“Uh-oh,” Tyler said.

Stacey spun around and lunged toward the building. Zoe grabbed her shirt and pulled her back. They tussled and argued a moment. Then Zoe dragged Stacey off the sidewalk and onto the asphalt, giving Tyler’s Camaro a wide berth. Stacey walked stiff-legged, her feet flapping on the pavement loud enough for Calvin to hear. She put a hand up to her face. Hiding from him.

“I hope you’re happy, farm boy,” Zoe yelled. “Look what you’ve done.”

“Oh, real nice.” Tyler practically climbed onto the roof of his car. “Hey! Who’s the cheater here?”

Calvin couldn’t find words or the voice to speak them. He clasped Tyler’s shoulder and pulled him back to earth.

The two girls staggered to Stacey’s car. They pressed together by the Honda then Stacey went to the passenger door as Zoe slid behind the steering wheel.

“Think that girl is smart enough to drive?” Tyler asked.

Calvin couldn’t laugh. Zoe had won. She’d drive Stacey home, and the two of them would conspire and find ways to blame it all on him.

What did I do except love you, Stacey?

The tires screeched as Zoe drove away. Nice touch.

“What’re you going to do now?” Tyler asked when they were gone. “Want to come to my house?”

“No, thanks. I think I need to be alone.”

Sadness crept into Tyler’s eyes, and the muscles around his jaw tensed. Calvin had seen the look before, at the funeral. Tyler didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter. Nothing he could say would undo Stacey’s betrayal. That he was here, slowly baking in the afternoon sun, giving Calvin that compassionate look, was enough.

Tyler sighed. “Well, keep the rubber side down, bro.” He clasped Calvin’s shoulder for a moment then unlocked his car. He paused with the door open. “Love stinks, man.”

Calvin pulled one side of his mouth into a half smirk. “Not always. But right this second it pretty much bites.”

Time blurred as Calvin plodded across the lot to his motorcycle and strapped on his helmet. The Yamaha started on the first kick, but dingy exhaust appeared in his rearview mirror when he revved the engine.
No. No trouble now. Don’t you betray me too
.

He duck-walked the bike backward out of the space then screamed through the parking lot. A glance right told him the road was clear. He leaned deep into the turn. One mile south on Old Bentley, then a hard left onto Victory Church Road. The wind battered his face as always but didn’t penetrate to bring that thrill he’d counted on. Exhaustion battled the urge to beat the bike and his body until he couldn’t feel anything at all.

Hitting the driveway, the Yamaha’s rear tire slid in the gravel. Calvin instinctively stuck out a foot to save himself from a spill and cussed as his brain told him to hit the throttle instead. He wobbled upright and slowed to crawl over the gravel. In front of the closed workshop doors he hit the kill switch then leaned forward, crossing his arms over the gas tank. His helmet clunked against the odometer. His rapid gasps fogged the chrome gas cap.

How could they go from being so close to
this
? And what was he supposed to do now? He’d told her he’d be waiting for her to go to the doctor—words spoken in anger and frustration. Maybe even smart words. But now he was faced with the wait, already feeling like each second wore away at his heart and soul like sandpaper, gritty and scratching. Like those moments after Michael’s funeral when he faced the rest of his life without his brother.

What now?

Six months ago he’d felt like part of him had been buried with Michael. Then Stacey stepped up to fill that gaping hole inside him a little. Not fully, and not in the same way, but she’d brought him to a place where he could smile again.

And then … and then … the anorexia, like a bony finger clawing, clawing, clawing, scratched Calvin’s scars, reopened the wound until he could feel the pain pouring out again.

I can’t do this. I need her
.

It was his fault. In front of who knows how many people at school, he’d screamed an ultimatum at her: Go to the doctor, or we’re finished. He’d been pushing her, making demands of her, expecting her to change—

To save her life!

Maybe she’d turned to Noah Dickerson because a guy who made no commitments, jumping from one girl to another, wouldn’t demand anything of her.

Except her virginity
.

No, it didn’t make sense. That night in the pickup truck she’d pushed Calvin away. After all the months of dating, of less-than-innocent flirting despite their agreement that they wanted to wait, she’d refused him.

Maybe that moment had been an unspoken ultimatum from her. Love her the way she was, or she’d move on. Maybe that sexy outfit
was her way of showing him that all her dieting was worth it, so he’d stop hassling her. It didn’t work. He’d only amped up his efforts.

She listened to every word about Michael, but when she needed me to listen, I blew it
.

He squeezed his eyes shut and poured his guilt and grief onto the gas tank in a moan.

“Calvin?”

His shoulders jerked and his eyelids popped open.

“What’s wrong?” Mom’s hands were on him before he could object. She pawed his shoulders, his arm, his thigh. “Honey, are you hurt? Did you fall on your bike?”

“No.” He leaned away, put his arm up to ward her off. “Don’t touch me.”

She planted her hands on her hips but angled her head toward him. No reprimand in her expression yet. “What happened?”

The helmet suddenly felt very heavy on his head. Awkward. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything from his mother. With her focus narrowed in on him, she’d drag the truth out of him.

“Stacey,” he choked out. Calvin yanked off his sunglasses, tugged at the helmet strap until it obeyed, and removed his helmet. He raised his arm to throw it but resisted.

“Oh, Calvin!” Mom’s body seemed to deflate some. “I’m so sorry. You want to tell me about it?”

He didn’t. Yet he did. The thought of talking through every event and all his worries over the past weeks, of revealing Stacey’s betrayal at the end with the most notorious girl-hopper at South Stiles High School, weakened every joint in his body and made his brain go foggy. The one-sided advice she’d give, the parental platitudes and timeworn wisdom—could he stomach it?

“No, Mom. No. Maybe later. I just … I’m really tired. I’d like to be alone.”

She stroked his arm up and down and tilted her head. “Okay, sweetheart. Can I fix you something to eat?”

Food? He could almost laugh. “That’s okay. I’m not really hungry right now.”

With several glances back, Mom went inside. Calvin opened the workshop door and put his motorcycle away, placed his helmet on the shelf and closed the door again. He trudged up to his room with his backpack, dumped his books out on his unmade bed, then dropped to the floor on his knees and pressed his forehead to his mattress.

“Why, God?”

His body heated up quickly in the hot attic room, which didn’t give him a good feeling about whatever the answer might be. He couldn’t cry. Not yet. He was too angry. Calvin pushed himself to his feet and headed back downstairs. His social studies teacher had mentioned there would be an email containing their study guide for the final. Calvin thought consuming his brain with that stuff was as good an answer as anything else.

He made a detour to the refrigerator for a cold drink, zig-zagging around other family members surrounding Mom in the kitchen, then sat down at the computer. A new message downloaded to his email. He squinted at the sender.

XOEZOEFOX

Who was that? The address looked like a bunch of Roman numerals for a second, but then the middle letters jumped out at him. Zoe. Great. Did he really want to read whatever she’d have to say to him?

Delete it
.

His eyes drifted to the preview window before his fingers could respond. Stacey’s name at the bottom of the short message stopped him.

You don’t control my life. I don’t need anyone telling me how to live or what to do. Stay away from me. We’re finished
.

Stacey

Ice ran through Calvin’s muscles, freezing him to the spot, while water ran in the kitchen sink, and Lizzie argued that Zachary was old enough to clean up his own stupid mess, and Mom reprimanded them both.

Over. Done.