The Art of Us

Chapter Eighteen

Kal

Kal met Ireland at Mr. Wasden’s classroom to do mural duty. This was the last day of the mural being open to the student body. After that, the art club would fill in the gaps and make it cohesive. Then the principal would decide if it stayed as a permanent part of the school wall or if it would only be up for the promised month and then painted over.

Ireland greeted him with an anxious hello and a quick peck on the lips before she started gathering everything from the back supply room. “Are we in a hurry for some reason?” Kal asked.

“Yes,” she said without elaborating. She put the tote of acrylics and pitcher of clean water in his hands.

“Why?” he asked.

She hefted the other tote with the cans, brushes, smocks, and plates, and then she rushed back out to the mural. “Because I finally know what to say!” she called back.

He couldn’t keep up with her without spilling the water pitcher, but he went as fast as he could and felt pretty good about the fact that he’d only splashed a small puddle at the very end by the table. He tried to point out his heroic efforts to Ireland, but she was already pulling the acrylic tubes from his tub and squirting dabs of color onto a paper plate. She yanked a few brushes from her tub and said, “Would you be willing to set this all up while I get started?”

“Sure,” he said. He would have asked her more, but she was kneeling by the flowers she and the mystery painter had been creating and had already gone to work. She looked at an image she’d pulled up from her phone that she was using as inspiration. He peeked over her shoulder to see a picture someone had taken of a gray wolf in the wild. With each brushstroke, a similar image appeared next to the wildflowers under the tree but with a few notable differences. The wolf was small but stood tall and proud, its ears pointed up and its muzzle raised skyward in a howl. As the image took shape, Kal could almost hear the howl echoing through the woods and into the sky. The words she painted inside the wolf’s body were “Howl Out Loud!”

Ireland stood and viewed her handiwork. She sucked in air as if she’d been in gym class, not sitting in the art room. She glanced around at the classroom, which was starting to fill with people, either coming to start class or to check out the mural. She was clearly worried she would be caught painting on the wall, which was weird since they were supposed to be doing that.

“It’s coming along really well, don’t you think?” Kal asked as they went to their first hour.

“What is?”

“The mural. Hey, Ireland, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“You hesitated.” He tugged her hand lightly so they could slow down before entering the classroom, where Mr. Nichols would shut them up.

“Did not.”

“Yes way.”

She scowled at him. “I didn’t say ‘no way’ either.”

Kal kissed the little wrinkle above her eyebrow that made up the scowl.

“I can’t tell you about it.” Her eyes dropped from his.

He fully stopped then, not caring that the kid behind them said, “Dude. Watch it.”

“You can tell me anything, Ireland.”

“Not anything. Some things I can’t.” She shook her head, her long, single dark braid swishing like a cat’s tail.

“Like what things?”

She laughed and shot him a look of incredulity. “If I told you what, then I would be telling you the thing I can’t tell you. C’mon.” She pulled at his hand to try to get him to move forward again. “We gotta go to class.”

“Okay. But I don’t want you to shut me out. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. You can trust me.”

“I do trust you. You are my person—the one person I can count on. But I’m fine. I’ll let you know if that status changes at all, okay?”

He wanted to argue more, but she was right that they needed to get to class. Mr. Nichols wasn’t exactly forgiving of tardiness. And Kal’s dad had been zero times awesome about grades lately. He’d allowed the art and the band because he’d worried about Kal’s mental health after everything with Brell. But the more time that came between that event and the present day, the less Kal’s dad felt like indulging those hobbies and the more he stressed good grades—even though Kal had already been accepted to Berkeley. It wasn’t like his grades were slipping.

Kal understood why his dad worried. His grandpa had spent his life as an artist, which meant there had never been enough money during his dad’s childhood and that Kal’s grandma had to work extra hard to help keep the family supported. Kal’s dad didn’t want that to be his son’s future.

Not that Kal had huge aspirations about being a rock star. And he knew his artistic skills were good, but not as marketable as Mara’s, so he didn’t mind his dad insisting he go to a good school and get a good education. He would have done it whether his dad wanted it or not. He just wished his dad didn’t get so intense about it.

Ireland’s leg bounced in an erratic pattern as she sat through class. Kal could tell she wasn’t paying attention. She spent half the class looking out the window. The other half she spent staring at her hands on her desk as her fingers tap-tapped a rhythm that sounded like the chorus to Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.”

If only Kal could be graded on studying the subject that was Ireland Raine. He would be sure to get an A+.

When he got to Wasden’s class, the teacher asked Kal about how Ireland was doing. He did it quietly so that no one who had already come in could hear the question. Kal dropped his voice so no one would hear the answer either. “She’s good. I mean, she used to say that Mara’s a shrew, so she wasn’t thrilled with where she’d landed. But she hasn’t said it in a while.” He glanced around to make sure Mara wasn’t anywhere around because he didn’t want her to overhear and get her feelings hurt—especially since he liked Mara well enough. “I think they’re working it out.”

“That’s good. The Washingtons were the best choice in her situation. They’re good people. Anyway, just checking.”

“’S all good, man.”

Kal breathed a sigh of relief that their conversation had come to an end because Mara did walk in then. A frown creased her forehead, and she took her seat without looking at anyone. Weird.

Her leg bounced up and down like Ireland’s. She was tap-tapping a rhythm too, only this one sounded like Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do.”

Apparently, it was a Taylor Swift kind of day. Not that he knew for certain what the two girls had been tapping, but he was pretty good with rhythms and patterns. Whatever was going on seemed like it was between the two of them. He briefly considered asking Mara about it, but if Ireland had shut him down, Mara wasn’t likely to spill.

After school, Ireland wasn’t at the mural like he’d expected. He walked around to try to find her and discovered her talking to the custodian. He panicked because he remembered that Ireland blamed the older woman for telling on her regarding the homelessness situation. Kal hurried over to interject and save the poor woman from underserved wrath.

When he got there, Ireland wasn’t berating the woman. Instead, they seemed to be having a fairly laid-back conversation. “Everything good here?” he asked warily.

Janice tucked back a silver strand of hair that had pulled loose from her bun and said, “Everything good.” She gave no further information.

“I better get going. I’m glad your son’s doing better.” Ireland waved at the custodian. “See you, Janice.”

“See you.”

“Want to hear something weird?” Ireland said once they were back in the art room at the mural.

“Absolutely.”

“Janice wasn’t the one who told Mr. Wasden about me not having a place to live. She said she didn’t know.”

Kal’s blood slowed to sludge in his veins. “Huh. Weird.”

“How would Mr. Wasden have found out?”

“It’s a good thing he did though, right? You’re happy where you’re at. You said you liked working at the bakery, right?”

Ireland shrugged. “Well, yes, but ...” she kept looking down to where she and the mystery lipstick writer had been communicating. She went silent as she inspected the wall. “I am so stupid,” she blurted.

“You are not stupid.”

“I am though. I totally overstepped,” Ireland said in a rush of panic-laced words. “Jarrod told me to just listen. But no. I just had to give advice because I felt like I knew what was right, but I don’t think she was ready for advice. She’s not ready. She just needed someone to listen. Like he said. Why couldn’t I do that? Why couldn’t I just listen?”

“Ireland. Pause. Time out. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She licked her lips and glanced nervously around before she lowered her voice. “Look.” Ireland pointed to the mural.

Kal looked at the wolf Ireland had painted earlier that day and saw that the howling wolf was now muzzled. Tears were streaming out of its eyes. When he looked back up at Ireland, tears were in her eyes too.

“I just don’t know how to help her. What could I possibly say to Mara that she would listen to?”

“Wait, what?” Kal was sure he’d heard wrong. “Mara?”

Ireland’s eyes went from sad to straight-up, high-key panicked. “Mara ... nothing about Mara. Sorry. I was just talking out loud. Never mind.”

“Ireland. Is Mara the mystery artist?”

“Kal . . .”

She was totally about to lie to protect that secret, but Ireland didn’t need to respond. The answer was written all over her face. He looked back at the mural, seeing it through the lens of its creator. Of course it was Mara. There was a level of skill in the art that no other student in the school owned except her. How had he not seen it before?

“How did you find out?” he asked.

Ireland opened her mouth, probably to lie to him, but he shot her a look, and she finally said, “I found her lipstick in her bathroom the other night.”

“Oh. Oh boy.” Kal didn’t know why it bothered him so badly that this person in such desperate need was Mara. Perfect Mara. Her life was the one in this school that seemed to have nothing lurking in its shadows. If perfect Mara could feel like a shattered mirror, what hope was there for any of the rest of them?

What could he do? What should he do? It was like finding out about Ireland living in a bathroom all over again. He wanted to help, but like Ireland had said, he didn’t want to overstep.

The nervous energy coming from both girls all made sense now. They must have had a talk about it, and now neither one knew how to act. At least that was what he assumed. “So you told her you knew?”

“No!” Ireland insisted. “How could I? But I talked to her last night, and she told me things, more than she’s said on the wall here. Oh, Kal. I should have just listened. Why did I try to solve her problems with my unsolicited advice? Even my dad used to tell me that no one appreciates unsolicited advice, and here I am handing it out like people are trick-or-treating and I’m the only house with candy.”

Kal put his hands on Ireland’s shoulders and gently massaged them. “Hey. Hey, Ireland. Breathe, okay? What happened?”

“Kal, someone hurt her. He hurt her, and now she’s just ... gah! Why are guys such trolls?” She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He slid his arms from her shoulders until he had them wrapped around her. It was cute that she insulted people using fairytales. Shrew, hag, harpy, and now troll. “Not all guys, right?”

“No not all guys. But Rowan is the biggest—”

“Rowan?” Kal pulled away to look at Ireland directly. “Rowan?” Why did everything come back to that guy? “Rowan hurt Mara?”

Ireland’s eyes widened. “I need to stop talking. I can’t think. And I’m saying everything I shouldn’t. This isn’t my stuff to be sharing. And it’s what you think but not as bad as you think. At least that’s what she told me. Look, Kal. You can’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t have told you. I hate that I can’t tell the difference between talking out loud and talking in my own head sometimes. I promised her. I didn’t mean to break that promise. I’m just so freaked out because I thought about it all after she told me, and I really thought I was helping her by giving her advice by using our connection here on the mural. I thought telling her to howl out loud would give her what she needed to tell someone, but Kal, she muzzled the wolf. She didn’t need advice. She just needed me to listen.”

“Does she not know you’re the one responding here?”

Ireland shook her head. “I didn’t tell her.”

“Rowan is such a piece of—”

“Sh! Someone’s going to hear you!” Ireland said as she scanned around them to see who might have overheard. There were people in the hall outside the classroom, but none close by, and their tones had been hushed up until Kal had decided to verbally abuse Rowan.

Thankfully, Mara always waited for Ireland in the car.

Ireland held Kal tightly again. “I have to go. Will you finish up for me? I don’t want to keep Mara waiting. And seriously—no one can know you know. Okay?”

Kal didn’t respond, but it didn’t matter because Ireland had already gone to meet Mara.

Kal slowly packed up the acrylic tubes and cleaned the brushes. He threw away the used plates and used some paper towels to wipe up where some paint had accidentally spilled onto the tile. The more he worked, the angrier he became. He read over the messages between Ireland and Mara. Mara was clearly in real pain—all because some guy was a “troll,” as Ireland had said.

A guy like the ones who had been with Brell that night.

Mr. Wasden entered his classroom and saw Kal standing there, nearly dizzy with fury, like he might throw up and pass out all at the same time.

“Whoa,” Wasden said. “You do not want the cleanup that comes from crashing with that.” He pointed to the pitcher of old paint water that Kal held at an awkward angle.

“Right. You’re right.” Kal returned to the worktable and dumped the supplies there rather than taking them all the way back to the supply room.

“Something buggin’ you, Kal?” Wasden asked.

“No. I’m right as rain.”

“So something’s bothering Miss Raine then?”

Kal didn’t mean to. He really didn’t. But everything tumbled out of him, from Mara being the one writing the cryptic messages to Rowan being the ... Kal ran out of expletives when describing Rowan. Ireland had called him a troll. And while Kal found it adorable that she insulted people based on fairy-tale monsters, he didn’t think her verbal slam of Rowan was nearly dark enough.

Kal felt defeated after ranting to Mr. Wasden, like a balloon that had been expressed of all of its air and now had no purpose. “What can I do?” he asked his teacher.

“You can’t do anything. This is an assault charge, and it’s something I have to take seriously. But it’s also hearsay. You heard it from someone who heard it from someone else. I can’t do anything about it at the moment. I’ll set up an appointment with the school counselor for Mara. For right now, keep your word to Ireland. Don’t go telling people. Don’t make trouble for Mara. Let this be her story where she controls her own narrative. It’s not your story, okay, Superman? I get that you’re into saving people, but this time, she needs to be the one to tell her story, not have someone tell it for her. I’ll get her into the counselor. That’s all you need to know.”

Kal nodded that he understood. He didn’t. Not really. But he’d respect it.