It just doesn't happen. A girl in a blue cheerleader vest and pleated short skirt, getting into the truck of the grungy wallflower.
Or any girl for that matter, Lucas thinks. Well, there was that one time he was forced into going to the Spring Formal with that girl from British literature with the braces that always has remnants of her last meal wedged between them. Their date ended very quickly, Lucas drove her to the dance and then bolted for the nearest McDonald's.
But, this girl, sliding into the passenger's seat, is much prettier than that one.
"Yeah, do you mind?"
Lucas blinks, and turns for a sideway glance.
"This alt-crap. I swear, this is must be the four hundreth time I've heard this Simple Plan song."
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, and she breathes an exasperated, 'thank you!' before leaning forward and fumbling with the radio dials. Moments later, he's listening to a lot of yelling at the highest possible volume setting. She begins to shake her head with the music, and he rolls his eyes.
Something mellower begins to play just as the first song ends, and she turns it off with disgust. "It's following me."
Lucas is starting to think the loud angry music is better than this awkward silence. He asks, 'you're in my English class, right?', which is about the stupidest thing he could say. She nonchalantly nods while looking straight ahead.
He says something else stupid, about the teacher, and she responds a distant 'mhmm'. He starts to ramble.
"I kinda like English. I mean, not the whole thesis-topic-sentence-active-voice part of it. The literature, writing, the poetics of it all. It's kinda cool that way. How just one thing, one piece can make you think about things so-- you know?"
She inhales deeply. "Frankly, English has to be my least favorite subject, though it was rather amusing to see Nathan call you a bastard. You retaliated ever so gracefully."
Lucas scoffs, "glad to see someone enjoyed it."
"Oh, yes, your petty rivalry with Nathan piques my interest." Lucas grins.
"Really? It 'piques' your interest?"
"Yes."
"Piques?"
"Um, yes, I think we've established that."
"Just making sure 'pique' is a real word."
"It is! It means - to captivate. Arouse. Er--" She cuts herself off short and buries her head in her hands.
"Oh," Lucas smiles, enjoying the teasing, "So I seem to *captivate* you? *Arouse* you?"
"You know, you can just shut up anytime."
"Like I can stop this truck and make you walk home anytime."
"No, you couldn't."
"Oh, really?"
"Nathan, maybe. Not you. You wouldn't do that."
Lucas looks to his side and shrugs. "You're right, anyway." She smiles.
***
She hasn't done her math homework or even started her Spanish essay, but she retreats to her room anyway, covering her ears with headphones and blasting them with music. She digs between her mattress, where most teenagers hide copies of Playboy, instead to find her black portfolio.
She doesn't even need to think, try to come up with some false metaphor or deeper symbol. She finds a blank page. And begins to draw.
***
Once she showed Nathan her art. The second month they were going out. She closed his eyes and led him to the gallery, and exclaimed 'voila!'
He laughed.
She walked him through her charcoal sketches, fake memoirs of 'true love' or whatever it was she mused when they first were going out. Black and white photography. Still lifes.
He picked his favorite as a little doodle stick figure on the cover of her science binder, a ditzy character with a short skirt.
"I like this one. Draw more of her. It'd be some cool comic strip."
She agreed quietly and followed him out the door to the burger place they were having their date at.
***
She sees Lucas later that week, yes. They walk together to the library during their study hall. She was waiting outside for Nathan near their tree, but fifteen minutes into the period, she heads inside. Perfect timing says she finds Lucas heading inside to return a book.
He says something stupid, as usual, and she ignores him, as usual. He has that ridiculous gray hood on, and she laughs about it, and he takes it nicely enough, doing some Eminem impersonation that's really off, but she has to laugh.
He opens the door for her. It's small, and he doesn't even look back to see if she is smiling.
She's only smiling a little, she consoles herself.
***
She tries to kiss Nathan that night. She's watching him make baskets on the deserted court, she's the only person cheering in the crowd. There's the skidding of his sneakers and echoes od dribbles. He makes a shot from midcourt and his 'whoo!'s travel.
Smiling, she gets up from her place in the bleachers and puts her arms around him. His neck is sweaty, sticky, his hair stiff of gel product, and his head is turned, fixtated on admiring that distance he made a shot from.
She quickly lets go of him, forgetting about the kiss.
That night, she's up late, drawing again.
***
Lucas finds her portfolio and begins thumbing through it. When she realizes what he's reading and furrowing his brow at, she well near dies.
He flips the pages slowly, as if he's trying to assimilate the drawings. He double takes as she grabs it out of his hands.
"Those are private!" she snarks. She quips something else, something about his dad that hates him, and she takes the slightly pained expression on his face as some kind of compensation. She leaves with a look that feels like a slammed door.
Those drawings were private, for her only, she reiterates to herself.
But, at least he wasn't laughing.
***
A few nights from now, she will rip the paintings down from her wall in a season of fury. She'll decapitate figures and disjoint scenery. Her hand will come across the black portfolio, her anger will open it.
She'll shred the first panel. She'll shred the second. Her eyes won't search the sketch of her and Nathan making out in the truck for a moment.
The last panel will remain in her hand untorn for a few seconds longer. 'Fall in love with the school outcast' the caption reads.
Peyton shreds that one too.
***
Reviews are adored.
Or any girl for that matter, Lucas thinks. Well, there was that one time he was forced into going to the Spring Formal with that girl from British literature with the braces that always has remnants of her last meal wedged between them. Their date ended very quickly, Lucas drove her to the dance and then bolted for the nearest McDonald's.
But, this girl, sliding into the passenger's seat, is much prettier than that one.
"Yeah, do you mind?"
Lucas blinks, and turns for a sideway glance.
"This alt-crap. I swear, this is must be the four hundreth time I've heard this Simple Plan song."
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, and she breathes an exasperated, 'thank you!' before leaning forward and fumbling with the radio dials. Moments later, he's listening to a lot of yelling at the highest possible volume setting. She begins to shake her head with the music, and he rolls his eyes.
Something mellower begins to play just as the first song ends, and she turns it off with disgust. "It's following me."
Lucas is starting to think the loud angry music is better than this awkward silence. He asks, 'you're in my English class, right?', which is about the stupidest thing he could say. She nonchalantly nods while looking straight ahead.
He says something else stupid, about the teacher, and she responds a distant 'mhmm'. He starts to ramble.
"I kinda like English. I mean, not the whole thesis-topic-sentence-active-voice part of it. The literature, writing, the poetics of it all. It's kinda cool that way. How just one thing, one piece can make you think about things so-- you know?"
She inhales deeply. "Frankly, English has to be my least favorite subject, though it was rather amusing to see Nathan call you a bastard. You retaliated ever so gracefully."
Lucas scoffs, "glad to see someone enjoyed it."
"Oh, yes, your petty rivalry with Nathan piques my interest." Lucas grins.
"Really? It 'piques' your interest?"
"Yes."
"Piques?"
"Um, yes, I think we've established that."
"Just making sure 'pique' is a real word."
"It is! It means - to captivate. Arouse. Er--" She cuts herself off short and buries her head in her hands.
"Oh," Lucas smiles, enjoying the teasing, "So I seem to *captivate* you? *Arouse* you?"
"You know, you can just shut up anytime."
"Like I can stop this truck and make you walk home anytime."
"No, you couldn't."
"Oh, really?"
"Nathan, maybe. Not you. You wouldn't do that."
Lucas looks to his side and shrugs. "You're right, anyway." She smiles.
***
She hasn't done her math homework or even started her Spanish essay, but she retreats to her room anyway, covering her ears with headphones and blasting them with music. She digs between her mattress, where most teenagers hide copies of Playboy, instead to find her black portfolio.
She doesn't even need to think, try to come up with some false metaphor or deeper symbol. She finds a blank page. And begins to draw.
***
Once she showed Nathan her art. The second month they were going out. She closed his eyes and led him to the gallery, and exclaimed 'voila!'
He laughed.
She walked him through her charcoal sketches, fake memoirs of 'true love' or whatever it was she mused when they first were going out. Black and white photography. Still lifes.
He picked his favorite as a little doodle stick figure on the cover of her science binder, a ditzy character with a short skirt.
"I like this one. Draw more of her. It'd be some cool comic strip."
She agreed quietly and followed him out the door to the burger place they were having their date at.
***
She sees Lucas later that week, yes. They walk together to the library during their study hall. She was waiting outside for Nathan near their tree, but fifteen minutes into the period, she heads inside. Perfect timing says she finds Lucas heading inside to return a book.
He says something stupid, as usual, and she ignores him, as usual. He has that ridiculous gray hood on, and she laughs about it, and he takes it nicely enough, doing some Eminem impersonation that's really off, but she has to laugh.
He opens the door for her. It's small, and he doesn't even look back to see if she is smiling.
She's only smiling a little, she consoles herself.
***
She tries to kiss Nathan that night. She's watching him make baskets on the deserted court, she's the only person cheering in the crowd. There's the skidding of his sneakers and echoes od dribbles. He makes a shot from midcourt and his 'whoo!'s travel.
Smiling, she gets up from her place in the bleachers and puts her arms around him. His neck is sweaty, sticky, his hair stiff of gel product, and his head is turned, fixtated on admiring that distance he made a shot from.
She quickly lets go of him, forgetting about the kiss.
That night, she's up late, drawing again.
***
Lucas finds her portfolio and begins thumbing through it. When she realizes what he's reading and furrowing his brow at, she well near dies.
He flips the pages slowly, as if he's trying to assimilate the drawings. He double takes as she grabs it out of his hands.
"Those are private!" she snarks. She quips something else, something about his dad that hates him, and she takes the slightly pained expression on his face as some kind of compensation. She leaves with a look that feels like a slammed door.
Those drawings were private, for her only, she reiterates to herself.
But, at least he wasn't laughing.
***
A few nights from now, she will rip the paintings down from her wall in a season of fury. She'll decapitate figures and disjoint scenery. Her hand will come across the black portfolio, her anger will open it.
She'll shred the first panel. She'll shred the second. Her eyes won't search the sketch of her and Nathan making out in the truck for a moment.
The last panel will remain in her hand untorn for a few seconds longer. 'Fall in love with the school outcast' the caption reads.
Peyton shreds that one too.
***
Reviews are adored.