The Art of Us

Chapter Fifteen

Ireland

A date with Kal. Ireland had a date with Kal Ellis. One where he would pick her up and take her somewhere and probably let her kiss him again before it was all through, which sent an involuntary shiver up her spine and back down again.

She needed to hurry to meet Mara at the car. Part of her worried that Mara would leave her, except Grace had been adamant that Mara’s new chore was driving Ireland to and from school—no exceptions.

But she’d had to stay at her last class to get clarification on an assignment, and she still had to clean up the paints at the mural.

As she entered the art room, something bright and new caught her eye. Another pink paint-and-lipstick flower.

Ireland frowned. She needed to hurry because Mara could leave, but ... the mystery lipstick writer had struck again. She needed to know what the new message said. She moved closer to read.

“The moon will turn away in shame because I look like this...”

The words were bigger than before, so they took up the entire flower. Hanging off one of the petals was a distorted creature. The creature was a beast as hideous as the first flower had claimed it to be. The creator had used paints for the monster, which looked like it could have been a woman but bald, with gouges scarring the head, face, and limbs as it hung from one arm and looked out as if staring straight back at anyone who might be staring at it.

It could have been a thing from nightmares, looking human enough but also “off” enough to be twisting to the eye. But as Ireland gazed on it, she saw what Kal had seen in the words. She saw the sad.

The eyes looked like they were on the verge of tears.

The little creature had obviously been done quickly, the brushstrokes having an unfinished quality to them, but it was still striking. Ireland glanced at the door. She needed to leave, or she’d get left. But the idea of rushing off to placate Mara felt like abandoning her mystery lipstick artist. She hurried to dip the small brush into the green paint so she could respond.

As Ireland pulled the brush from the paint, she realized what she could say. She took out her phone to look up a few images so that her own picture would look proportionately right. Then she began carefully tracing the words into the stem. She cleaned her brush and squeezed out a few colors of acrylics onto the edge of one of the used plates that had been left.

She got to work on the message.

When she was done, she felt satisfied by the end product. She’d never created any kind of art that made her as happy as this did. She took a picture of it, making sure both of the flower messages were in the frame because all of it together was what made it powerful.

In the stem, the message read, “You must be using a twisted mirror that distorts images. I got you a new one to see yourself clearly.” Hanging from one of the leaves, she drew an intricate silver mirror with the words, “You are beautiful,” in the reflection.

She took a deep breath, satisfied, and then hurried to clean up the art supplies, getting all the tubes capped and the brushes properly cleaned. She put the bin of supplies under the table.

Mr. Wasden poked his head out of his gallery. “Hey. I thought I heard someone out here. You ready for me to lock up?”

“Yeah. All ready. See you tomorrow.”

At the car, Mara was waiting. She turned her full glare on Ireland. “Where have you been?”

Ireland would have laughed because Mara sounded like a stern mom at that moment. And Ireland would know what that sounded like since Mara and Grace had gotten into an argument the night before, and Grace had started the argument with those exact words. But Ireland didn’t think Mara would take being laughed at very kindly.

“I have to put the paint stuff away. You know that.”

“If it’s going to take that much time every day, you’ll need to find somebody else to do it.”

They both got into the car, with Mara shutting her door harder than necessary. Again. Maybe she wasn’t slamming the door. Maybe the driver’s side didn’t close tightly unless it got slammed. Because it seemed that was all Mara ever did when she was closing the door around Ireland.

Mara started the car and huffed when she saw the clock on the dash display. “Seriously. You’re going to need to find somebody else. I cannot wait for you every single day. This is ridiculous.”

“You could make it go faster by helping me out,” Ireland suggested. “After all, you’re in the art club too. This should be your responsibility as well.”

Mara cut a glance at Ireland before she pulled the car out onto the road. “Are you kidding me right now? You’re trying to delegate to me? Seriously?”

“Just saying. If you’re in a hurry ...”

“I’m not the one who volunteered.”

True enough. Mara hadn’t volunteered. The task was Ireland’s responsibility. The extreme amount of time it had taken that day hadn’t exactly been fair to Mara either. Ireland had been doing much more than simply putting away the supplies; she’d taken the time to craft her own piece of art. Mara wasn’t wrong to be irritated.

The conversation Ireland was having with the lipstick writer on the wall had shifted a few things in her. Maybe she didn’t dislike Mara as much as she thought. Maybe, like the lipstick writer was both scary and sad, Mara could be both monstrous and misunderstood.

Since Mara had initiated conversation, Ireland assumed it was okay for her to keep it going. “So, I have a date tonight. With Kal again. Not sure what I should wear. Do you have any advice?”

Ireland assumed that if she brought up the topic of fashion, Mara would be more inclined to keep the conversation going since she seemed all but obsessed with her clothes.

Ireland was wrong.

“Boundaries,” she said. If anything, Mara looked more annoyed with Ireland than she ever had before.

“What boundaries? It’s not like I asked anything about you.”

“You’re talking to me. And I already told you we weren’t friends.”

Ireland rolled her eyes hard enough to make her wonder how she didn’t give herself a concussion.

“I wasn’t talking to you, princess. I was talking to myself because the conversation is better. So, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, I’m not really sure what to wear. I mean, we look great in the plain white shirt with the black jacket. It’s both dressy and casual at the same time. And it makes us look like we have a figure, which is always nice.”

“You do know you can keep the tea to yourself, right?” But Mara no longer glared at Ireland. Instead, her eyebrows were furrowed in a confused knot above her nose.

Confusion, Ireland’s father had taught her, always worked to off-balance people who thought they were in control. It allowed you to pull the control back to yourself.

Ireland gave her head a small, firm shake. She would not be taking lessons from her father. The guy had landed himself in jail, so what good could any advice from him be? And Mara was right. Ireland could keep the tea to herself. She pressed her lips together and stayed silent for the rest of the car ride.

At the house, Grace was home and helping Jade with homework already. “You guys are home late.”

Mara pointed at Ireland. “It’s her fault. She had to stay after.”

Just in case Grace thought that Ireland had to stay after to do detention or some other activity caused by or leading to delinquency, Ireland hurried to explain herself. She talked about the mural and how the principal’s agreement to allow the mural to happen was partly dependent upon her willingness to clean up.

“Well, that’s nice. I hope you helped, Mara. Since you’re in the art club.”

Ireland wondered if Mara would lie and say that of course she was involved. But Mara ignored her mom’s question and started up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Ireland interjected. “Mara helped. Also, Mara painted the ocean waves. You should go see it sometime. It looks great. She’s really talented.”

Ireland’s view of where Mara stood on the stairs was limited, cut off so she could only see Mara’s legs and feet. But those legs halted on the stairs. For a moment, Ireland worried Mara would stomp back down and yell “Boundaries!” at her.

But that hesitation on the stairs was over, and Mara continued up until her feet disappeared altogether.

Ireland took the moment while Mara was gone to ask Grace if it was okay if she went out with Kal that night.

Grace gave her permission as long as Ireland promised to get her homework done first, which Ireland had already intended to do.

When she entered her room, she noticed that there was something on her bed that hadn’t been there when she left. Clothes. It was a whole outfit. The gray sweater with silver threads woven into it had a whimsical asymmetrical hem and paired perfectly with the midi skirt and the low-heeled boots.

Ireland recognized the outfit because she had seen Mara wearing it on several different occasions.

Mara had loaned her clothing? Ireland stood perfectly still for a moment, waiting to see if any other apocalyptic event might happen. She listened hard for any siren announcing an alien invasion and peered out the window to see if a meteor was hurtling toward the ground. But all was quiet. She glanced at Mara’s door. It was quiet there too. Ireland contemplated knocking on Mara’s door to say thank you but couldn’t figure out how to do that without being awkward and weird and maybe making the entire thing blow up in her face. She decided the best option would be to quietly accept the gift that had been quietly given and be grateful for what it represented.

For all Mara had insisted that they weren’t friends, this loaning of clothing seemed very much like friendship to Ireland. Wasn’t that what girls did for each other when they were friends? Loan clothing for dates?

Ireland grinned because, for the first time ever, she was going to go out wearing something that hadn’t been salvaged from a thrift store. Although maybe that wasn’t true. Grace had already declared she thrifted every once in a while. For all Ireland knew, this outfit came from the local Goodwill.

But even if that were the case, Grace’s budget for that type of shopping and Ireland’s budget for that type of shopping weren’t anywhere in the same neighborhood. They weren’t even on the same planet. Ireland was pretty sure they weren’t even in the same solar system. Even at the thrift store, Ireland looked for the clearance stuff.

She hurried with her homework, getting it done quickly so that she could get dressed.

When she’d buttoned the last button, she brushed her hair off to the side and did a single braid that would lay over her left shoulder. Only then did she allow herself to look in the mirror. Her breath caught at her reflection. “I look like. . .” She frowned as she tried to put into words what it was she saw. “Like I belong.”

She wanted to knock on Mara’s door to thank her now more than ever. The fairy-godmother-gift Mara had given was a night of normalcy.

As her eyes felt glued to her reflection in the mirror, she thought of the mural and what she’d written to the mystery lipstick artist. She hoped when that person stared in the mirror, she could feel like this—like she belonged.

When Ireland went downstairs to wait for Kal to show up, Mara was in the living room wearing yoga pants and a bulky sweatshirt. Her hair was up in a sloppy ponytail and she’d washed off all of her makeup, so her face was clean and fresh. It was like Mara and Ireland had swapped places with each other in some Freaky Friday kind of moment. They inspected each other for a long moment, with Mara finally giving a nod of approval and Ireland saying a soft “Thank you” before the doorbell chimed and Ireland broke eye contact so she could answer it.

Kal let out a small puff of air as if looking at her knocked the wind out of him. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. You do too.” He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt with a black jacket and jeans. The whole look came together like he was about to be in an ad for guy’s cologne. Grace met them there at the door to greet Kal and to verify that he would get Ireland home early since it was a school night. When Grace asked where they were going, Kal answered, “Humboldt Observatory. It’s clear out, and it’s ‘observe the moon’ night. There’s an activity there that’s open to the public.”

“How sweet is that?” Grace asked “Well, you two have fun. Have her home early.”

Kal agreed again that he would and led Ireland to the car.

“How did you even hear about something like this?” she asked once they were driving up Fickle Hill Road.

“My grandparents were both members of the Humboldt Astronomy Society. Whenever we visited my grandparents before moving here, they would take us to the observatory. One time, we even managed to see the northern lights.”

“That’s cool. I didn’t know you could see those in California.” The forest swooshed past Ireland’s window.

“It’s rare, and it doesn’t look like you would think. At least it didn’t when I saw it. It was a bright red, like the sky was on fire.”

“Okay, that sounds terrifying, actually.”

Kal laughed. “Not at all. Just cool. Ten times awesome.”

When they arrived and were out of the car, Kal held out his hand to Ireland. She would never get tired of holding his hand. Never in her whole life.

“It looks abandoned,” Ireland said softly. She couldn’t help it. She tucked herself into Kal just enough to feel the warmth of his energy next to her. Most parking lots had lights to help people be safe while getting to and from their cars, but this parking lot was entirely dark.

Kal explained that the lack of lights on the outside of the building had everything to do with the light pollution interfering with proper observation of the heavenly skies.

“So why the observatory?” Ireland asked.

“I wanted to give you the stars tonight,” Kal answered.

That statement qualified as next-level, heart-stutteringly adorable. Kal had been right about the facility being open to the public. There were several other people there using the equipment. Kal and Ireland waited their turn to view through the telescope. As they did, she overheard a couple of people using the term earthshine .

“What’s earthshine?” Ireland whispered to Kal.

“See the crescent moon there?” He pointed up through the opening without looking into the telescope. “It’s the sunlight reflected by the earth that lights up the dark part of the moon. See how you can kinda see the image of the full moon along with the crescent moon? That’s earthshine. It only happens a few times a year, which is why the society gathered tonight.”

Ireland gazed into the nighttime sky that was visible through the telescope and hugged her arms to her. The observatory was cold thanks to the crisp, clear night, which meant that even the sweater and the jacket she wore weren’t enough to keep her warm. It might not have been a great idea to wear a skirt.. But she wouldn’t have missed the earthshine for anything. Cold legs were a small price to pay.

“I like that word. Earthshine.”

“Yeah. My grandparents did too. I think I remember my grandpa telling me that Leonardo da Vinci came up with the idea of earthshine.”

Ireland nudged Kal with her shoulder. “Wow. Impressive that Leonardo da Vinci created the idea of the earth, the moon, and the sun. I kinda thought they were here before he was.”

He nudged her back. “You know what I mean.” She could hear the grin in his voice.

He put his eye to the telescope, and Ireland watched him watch the universe. The jacket he wore accentuated his broad shoulders. She’d never considered herself the kind of girl who noticed things like shoulders, but she’d discovered that once she’d started cataloging Kal’s features and found so much to approve of, she could consider looking at him a worthwhile hobby. Her own time at the telescope wasn’t nearly as satisfying as looking at him.

After they were back out in the parking lot and heading to the car, Ireland looked at the sky. Even without the telescope, the earthshine on the moon was easy to see. Kal’s hand enveloped her own in warm safety. “I’ve looked at the sky millions of times, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before tonight. Thank you.”

Kal stopped and tugged at her hand so that the distance between them moved from several inches to nonexistent. “I have a confession to make,” he said, his breath warm on her lips in the cold night air. He maintained eye contact. His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone.

“Yeah?” Could she breathe? No. Ireland was drowning in him. In his warmth. In his gift of the stars.

“I was really mad at you for ignoring me all those months you sat by me.”

Ireland winced. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure if I was—”

“Sticking around. I know. I’m glad you decided to stick around because I really, really like you.”

“I really, really like you too,” she said, her lips brushing lightly against his as she made her own confession. He then pressed his lips to hers, his kiss tender, careful, as if she were some fragile bit of crystal that could shatter at the slightest touch.

The thing was ... she didn’t feel fragile. She felt strong and capable. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers in his dark wavy hair, and kissed him with greater insistence.

In this place where the stars tracked the time, Ireland lost time completely. Had they been there a whole minute? A half hour? A day? It felt like eternity in an eyeblink.

When they broke apart, his forehead leaned on hers as he gave a low laugh. “Wow,” he breathed. “Just wow.”

She could not agree more.

He drove her back home, and it wasn’t until he was pulling up in front that Ireland realized she actually considered it her home. They walked to the door hand in hand and he kissed her all over again, and the universe felt good and right and perfect.

Ireland entered the house and was slammed with a charge of tense energy from the people inside, shattering her euphoria. Mara was fighting with her parents. Again.

Maybe the universe wasn’t good or right or perfect after all.