Split by A.M. Bryker (ebook reader 8 inch txt) 📕

     "Hey, what's up with your face?" He asks. "How long has that been going on?"

     "That's what I was trying to get out of her just now," Alexis responded. "But she can't seem to talk at the moment."

     Cody gives me a puzzled look. After a few seconds, realization spreads across his face and he lets out a short laugh. "I think I know what it is," he says, grinning.

     "What?" Alexis asks eagerly.

     He shakes his head. "I'm not telling. If you want the info you've gotta get it out of her yourself."

     "What?" She whines. "No fair!"

     "Yes, it is."

     "Is not."

     "Is too."

     I roll my eyes at their perfect-for-each-other bickering as I walk into art class and take my place in front of a blank canvas, tying an art apron around my waist. Cody takes up the place on my left, while Alexis occupies the spot on my right.

     The teacher, Miss Rienn, comes in at that moment and calls the noisy kids to order. Then she goes on to talk about art and how it's a good way to express your feelings, blah blah blah. I just want to paint.

     Finally, she instructs us to paint something that expresses an emotion we had felt that day. Oh, joy. This'll be fun.

     "Ha. Nice," Alexis whispers, leaning toward me. "I wonder if Jade will paint something that expresses what she was feeling five minutes ago."

     I almost laugh at her. There is absolutely no way I'm going to paint that emotion. It would probably clue her in on what’s going on. Besides, I have no idea how to portray that particular emotion anyway.

     Instead, I decide to paint something that expresses the emotion of happiness. That should be easy enough.

     I pick up a brush and dip it in green paint. As I stroke the brush against the blank canvas, my mind wanders back to the dream I had last night. Who was the guy? I've never seen him before. And what was up with the affection? And the sudden abuse? It doesn't make sense to me, but it was really vivid. That's strange because I normally have blurry-imaged dreams where I can't see anything very well.

     "Jade."

     Startled, I turn toward the voice and come face-to-face with Justin, almost smearing his art apron with paint. I never realized that he was in this class. Weird.

     "Yes?" I reply, trying to figure out why I never noticed him here before now.

     "I called your mom after my previous class and she said it would be okay."

     "Oh, right. Thanks."

     He smiles and strides back to his easel. For some reason, I'm glad that he didn't get a chance to see my painting.

     Alexis and Cody observed the exchange with flabbergasted looks on their faces. She pokes my arm. When I turn, her mouth is hanging open slightly and she points her finger at Justin, then back at me repeatedly.

     "Studying after school," I whisper.

     She gives me a look that expresses her skepticism. She clearly doesn't believe me. I shrug.

     Minutes go by in silence, and Miss Rienn starts walking around the room, observing everyone's paintings and giving someone a piece of advice every once in a while. When she gets to me, she gasps silently in amazement. I turn to my painting and realize why.

     I hadn't noticed what I'd been painting; I'd been distracted with thoughts concerning my dream and the fact that I figured out why I've never noticed Justin here before: because he hasn't participated in art class since the beginning of time, practically. Now I can see that I had painted a clearing in a forest. The green leaves and brown trees work perfectly together with the sliver of blue sky above them. In the middle of the clearing stands a girl holding the hands of a guy with hair unbelievably black. Their faces are mostly obscured in shadow, but I'm fairly certain I know who they are, regardless.

     The bright colors around the couple portrays my happy emotion but there is, near the bottom left corner, a dark spot that—despite its small size—seems threatening. I shudder inwardly.

     Miss Rienn covers my painting with a sheet and drags the easel to the front of her desk. "Class," she calls. "Gather around please."

     The students look at each other in confusion, but curiously obey.

     "You are all aware of my love for art," Miss Rienn states. "I am going to be blunt and say that quite a few of you don't seem to have the willpower or motivation to paint with conviction. You don't seem to enjoy yourselves. Lastly, you don't seem to grasp the concept of painting with emotion. Now, I'm not going to name any names—" (she makes eye contact with them instead) "—but you know who you are. I want to show you all something that ought to be breathtaking and inspiring to you."

     Until now I had no idea what her intentions were. But realization hits me when she moves to the side of my painting and removes the sheet, displaying it to the entire class, causing them all to gasp. And what can I do about it? Covering it again would look odd, and then everyone would know that it was me who painted it. I decide to watch my classmate's reactions.

     My picture must be pretty good because even the Goth girl, Mindy Fox, who never shows any emotion to anyone—other than her boyfriend—is gawking. Or maybe it's that bad. Eh, who knows?

     Her boyfriend, apparently.

     "Wow." He puts his arm around Mindy and whispers to her, "They look like us."

     He is talking about the two people in the clearing. But that doesn't make any sense. He has brown hair and Mindy has blond hair with black streaks. There's no way those two people look like them.

     Then I hear another girlfriend and boyfriend say the same thing. And another. What the heck? Plus, how in the world am I able to hear them? They're whispering amongst themselves, with almost zilch volume.

     Just then, Alexis comes up beside me and whispers, "Why did you do that?"

     Why is she talking so loud? I'm right here.

     Confused, I ask, "What did I do?"

     She points at my painting. "You painted me and Cody in the clearing. It's unmistakable."

     I frown. "Okaaay… Um, I didn't."

     "What are you talking about? You clearly did."

     I shake my head, saying, "No, I didn't. I painted me and a guy I had a dream about."

     She frowns now, befuddled. "Then why—"

     "I have no idea," I say, cutting her off. "Those two said that it looked just like them. And those two said the same thing."

     She looks more confused than ever, so I say, "You know what? Forget it."

     I make my way to Miss Rienn. Once by her side, I ask, "So what do you think?"

     Smiling at me adoringly, she replies, "I absolutely love it! But please, tell me—what inspired you to paint me and Jim?"

     I'm speechless. James Hale is my history teacher. And Miss Rienn's boyfriend.

     I open my mouth to speak, but then close it again. Eventually, I just shrug.

     "Well," Miss Rienn begins. "I was just wondering if it would be okay with you if I put this on display in the hallway."

     Able to speak now, I reply, "Oh, um, I don't know…"

     "Please, Jade," she implores. "It would mean a lot to me."

     A thought occurs to me. "Okay," I say. "I'll agree, but only if I don't get involved in any contention about it and you make sure that no one knows who painted it."

     She looks puzzled for a moment, but then her face clears and she nods. "I understand. I suppose we can do that."

     I smile and thank her. Just then the bell rings and students gather their belongings and begin heading out the door. I grab my backpack, take off my apron, and start to follow the throng of students when someone grabs my arm. Turning, I again find myself confronted by Justin.

     "I have a question for you," he says. "Did you paint that picture?"

     Alexis and Cody file out the door, glancing back at me and Justin, still looking completely perplexed. They stop and wait for me just across the threshold, but I wave them on. I turn back to Justin. Now I understand why I'd felt glad that he hadn't seen my painting.

     "Which one?" I ask, playing dumb.

     He glances around, looking a little uncomfortable. "You know—the one everyone's talking about."

     I stare at him, wondering why he was asking me about this. Then it dawns on me. Duh. He probably sees him and the girl he likes, corresponding with everyone else who saw the painting. But wait a minute—if that's the case, then wouldn't that mean that the guy in the clearing with the girl (aka, me) is who I like? I don't even know his name! Sheesh. But yeah, there is no way I want anyone else to know I painted it.

     Instead of giving him a direct answer, I remark, "It's a good painting, even for my standards, but no one told me who painted it." That isn't a lie, right? (Wait—since when do I care whether I lie or not? Yeesh, there's something seriously wrong with me.) Then I ask with fake interest, "Who do you think painted it?"

     He shrugs. "I don't know," he says quietly. "But I know who I want to have painted it."

     As he speaks he looks directly into my eyes, seeming to look for something that will give him an answer. I gaze back steadily, not giving anything away.

     He looks away first and finally realizes that he hasn't let go of my arm. Releasing his grip, he clears his throat and declares, "We'd better get going if we want more time to study."

     I blink, uncomprehending. Then I remember—study, biology test, his place. Duh.

     "Oh," I say. "Yeah, okay."

     We head into the hallway, toward the lockers. I open mine and place the books I don't need inside, which is practically all of them. As I do so, a piece of paper falls out and flutters to the floor. I have to force myself to allow it to fall, but it's extremely difficult not to let my reflexes do what they want.

     What the…? I crouch down and pick it up.

     "What is it?" Justin asks.

     Shrugging, I answer, "I have no idea. I'll find out sooner or later."

     "You're not gonna look at it now?"

     I stand, close my locker, and start walking toward the doors. Everyone else is already out. That means it's just Justin and me. Creepy.

     "Nah, I'll take a peek at it when I get home," I say casually, putting the paper in my front pocket. "Whatever it is, I don't want it to distract me."

     "Smart thinking."

     We fall silent, and Justin walks in step beside me.

     Good thing he can keep up with me, I think, smiling.

     "What are you smiling about?" He asks. Caught.

     "Nothing," I lie, stealing a glance at him from the corner of my eye.

     "You're a terrible liar," he says, laughing. We step outside, into the afternoon sun, and I slip on my sunglasses.

     "Oh really? What if that's what I want you to think?"

     He leans in and whispers, "Then I'll just have to figure you out. I still haven’t, you know."

     That sends shivers up my spine. "And how do you expect to do that?" I ask, striving to keep my tone casual.

     He shrugs, straightening as we descend the concrete steps. "I have my ways," he says mysteriously.

     I bite my lip. Admittedly, I'm kind of nervous about that. There is