Get Lost (4 page)

“Tomorrow,” he responds, starting the car. “When do you think you could have it ready for me?”

“Friday.” The answer brings smile out of him as stretch the seat belt across my body.

“You sure that’s enough time?”

Pulling my hair to the side of my face, I answer, “Plenty. But, you get your  painting when I get my answers.”

As he puts on his blinker to enter traffic, he tilts his fedora to the side and impishly states, “Be aware that the answers are often just skeleton keys to the doors of questions that may not have the information you want to believe on the other side.”

Chapter Three

As I twist my combination, I glance at the girls standing two lockers over. The tall strawberry blonde is brushing her hair slowly, and she cocks her slender face to the side as if deep in a reverie, while her slightly shorter, obviously faked baked tan friend reapplies lip gloss.

“He is so gorgeous.” The redhead sighs heavily. “I mean, I thought you only saw guys like him on TV, you know?”

“I know.” The other agrees, blotting her lips. “He’s only been here three months, and it’s like, ‘Where have you been my whole life?’”

Curious as to whom they are talking about, I gently pull my locker somewhat open as the tall one says, “Justin Ryan is perfect.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” The lip gloss girl puts her tube away.

With a ruffle of her hair, the strawberry blonde lets out another deep sigh. “I’m not. What girl is good enough to measure up to that?”

My lips press together, and I turn my attention back to my locker, where a lavender rose is dangling with a note attached. Slowly, I detach the piece of folded paper and open it.

Look right.

Confused, I glance around to see Justin leaning against the lockers with one leg propped up, one hand in his pocket, and his fedora tilted down to emphasize his smile.

Grabbing the flower, I take a long sniff before flashing it in his face. With a soft smile, I ask, “Why lavender?”

“They’re hard to come by. They’re unique and symbolize two very important things. Enchantmen.” His tongue grazes his lips.

“And?”

“Love at first sight.” The words cause me to blush as I grab a binder from the back of my locker.

I bite my bottom lip nervously and focus on sliding the binder inside my bag. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing for lunch?”The question is followed by me shutting my locker.

I toss my book bag over my shoulder, the rose still dangling from my fingertips, “Probably the same thing I do every day. Work in the art room.”

Justin nods slowly before letting his foot drop. “Have lunch with me?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” My head reels because I don’t think I’ve been asked out since I was a sophomore. Instantly, my mouth begins to ramble in a familiar way. “You know, I really should go to class and work on my project.”

“But…”

“And it’s a big project. I mean, almost a quarter of my grade.”

“But…”

“In fact, Miss Kennedy says that she expects a lot from this project. She really wants to see me shine with something different. I’ve been working really hard, but sometimes, I just think that…”

With a gentle touch of my hand, Justin interrupts. “Peyton.”

Realizing I’m rambling, I bite my bottom lip again. “Sorry.”

“Have lunch with me today,” his voice softly purrs, “please.”

My head bobs up and down, helpless in the battle against his bright blue eyes. “Okay.”

Quickly, Justin grabs my free hand, plants a kiss on it, and leads me away, with him walking backward past the two girls who were ogling over him earlier. After a deep look into my eyes, he glances at the two girls and tips his hat. “Ladies.”

“Bye.” They coo, hypnotized by his presence.

He turns around, so now, he is dragging me by the hand behind him, which is when I give the girls a quick look. Intimidated by their hateful stares, I look down once more, terrified to guess what everyone is thinking.

Before I know it, I’m watching Justin spread a bright red and white checkered blanket across the green grass. Dangling the basket Justin had pre-packed in his car for us, from my hands, I watch and admire the fact he really does look gorgeous doing anything. Once it’s set, I sit down beside him and begin to bring out the champagne glasses for sparkling water.

The two of us engage in a light and friendly conversation over homemade sushi and fresh cut strawberries.

After many random laughs over the strangest combinations of food we’ve ever eaten (he totally has me beat with his the vanilla bean cupcakes with friend worm sprinkles), Justin stretches his body out so that he is lying on his side, staring at me.

“So, Peyton, tell me, what are your parents like?” I stretch my legs out in front of me.

I lean back with a heavy sigh, allowing my ponytail free hair to brush the grass. “Well, my mom’s gorgeous. She used to be an international model and traded it all in to be, well, my mother. My father is probably the most understanding person I know. No matter what it is or what I want to do, he says what’s most important is my happiness.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“Yeah.” I nod slowly.

“So, did you grow up here?”

“No. I’m actually a gallery brat.”

A soft chuckle escapes him. “What’s a gallery brat?”

“It’s like being a military brat, but instead of moving from city to city because the government tells you to, you move from city to city because the art community demands you to. I’ve lived in thirteen different cities since I was born.”

“Wow.” The word slides out of his mouth slowly. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

Staring at my toes and clicking them together, I respond, “It’s not. You know what the worst part is? Having to say goodbye every time you think you’ve finally found somewhere you belong.”

“Is that why you don’t have any friends here?”

Offended, I snap. “I do too have friends here.” In the face of his cynical look, I cave. “Fine. I guess I don’t.” My lips press together with a bit of frustration. “I learned that it’s easier to say nothing than to have say goodbye over and over again.”

“You don’t think it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?” The cliché rolls off his tongue in a cryptic manner.

I quickly snap. “You know who said that? Someone who has truly never been in love or had friends worth keeping, for that matter.” Realizing how hateful I must sound, I lean over, tip his hat off his head, and slip it onto mine. “Hey! I, um, got you something.”

“What is it?” Justin pulls his body up as I slide a book out of my bag.

“It’s an old piano book from the 1940s.” I proudly smile as I pull my knees up to my chest, slightly giddy. “I remember you complimenting my drawing the other day, so when I came across this at Marty’s, I knew you just had to have it. I was searching for some photos from vintage magazines when I discovered this wedged between a couple of old Vogues. Is it any good?”

Justin’s face does not look like the one I recognize. His eyebrows dart down, almost as if it pains him to turn the pages. Where his usual cocky grin is painted, there is a painful expression, which makes me nervous. “Do you not like it? I mean, I can take it back if you want. I mean I just…”

“No.” Justin cuts me off, his hands leisurely turning the pages. “It’s amazing. Probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

I scoot closer excitedly, turning a few pages and smiling widely. “Look on this page. It’s even addressed to some guy named Justin.”

I lean against him, allowing his arm to slip around my shoulder as we read the entry together.

To my beloved son Justin. May music always be the guide in your life that it is in mine.

To my surprise, Justin lets out a sniffle, shuts the book, and sits up straight. “Hey, um, did you finish the painting?”

Curious as to why our closeness had to end, I clear my throat and nod. “Yeah. I’m going to give it a quick look once my parents leave. You want to come over and pick it up?”

Justin begins gathering all the picnic items and placing them in the basket. “Sure. When?”

“About an hour? I have to wait for my parents to leave. They’ve got this party thing they’re going to, and they’re going to be gone all night.” My voice bravely opens the door for the chance for him to suggest that we hang out at my place by ourselves.

“Yeah, I can meet you there then.” His answer isn’t quite as romantic or heartfelt as I was hoping. “Would you like me to drive you home?”

“No. I’ll walk.” I stand up and toss my backpack on my shoulder. Lingering for a minute, I stare innocently, desperate for more attention and affection but being disappointed. I clear my throat. “See you later, I guess.”

“Bye.” His slight wave is followed by the clinking of glasses.

After a brisk walk home with plenty of time to relish in the closeness between Justin and me, I arrive at our building and use the back entrance, which leads straight up to the penthouse.

Walking in, I hum happily as I see my mother, dressed in one of her famous cocktail dresses, going through a stack of mail. She greets me sweetly without looking  up. “Hello, darling.”

“Hello.”

My father rushes out of their corner bedroom, doing his best to fix his twisted purple tie.

“Fix this, Faith.” My father whines, pointing at the disaster he’s managed to create.

Meeting him in front of the entertainment center directly next to their bedroom, she shakes her head slowly.“Calm down, Tim. You always get like this when we go to dinner at the mayor’s.”

“Maybe because it’s the mayor’s!” He snips, his brushy eyebrows lowering, while his slender shoulders droop. Noticing me, he quickly puts on a small, crooked smile, “Good afternoon, princess.”

“Hi, Dad.” After I wave, I head down the small hall past the half bath, my father’s extra office space, and directly into my bedroom, which is almost the same size as my parents’.

After dropping my bag, I stroll back into the living room to my mother, who’s ironing out wrinkles from Dad’s black dress shirt. While watching my mother, he asks me, “How  was school?”

“It was school.” I head toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before going to the studio. “And how was the gallery?”

“Busy.” He tries to loosen the tie, while my mother quickly retightens it.

“Your grandparents sent you a birthday card,” my mother exclaims. “It’s on the kitchen bar.”

Spotting it, I stare at it, confused. “But my birthday isn’t for like a couple of months.”

“Just open it.” My father encourages after being swatted on the hand once more for trying to touch his tie.

I do as he requests and open the artsy birthday card with a classic piece embedded on the front. With a halfhearted smile, I open it up, revealing an airplane ticket. Quickly, I ask, “What’s this?”

“A plane ticket.” My father finally caves. “They want you to visit on your birthday. Isn’t that great?”

“I guess.” I stare at the ticket suspiciously. “But, I’ll still be in  school.”

Dad proudly argues. “Already arranged for you to be out that whole week.”

After staring at the plane ticket for the first flight out in the morning, I glance up as Mom clears her throat, obviously for my attention.

“Pumpkin, do you have plans tonight?” My mother glances over her shoulder before pulling up her falling maroon, tube-top dress. “You know, maybe a movie with some friends? A party? Maybe even a date?”

“No dating.” My father quickly interjects before checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

“Oh, hush.” Mom grabs her clutch. “She’s got to date some time, Tim. She can’t date her art.”

“Why not? I did.” He winks at me before stroking his goatee. “And look where it got me.”

“Barely.” She points her purse at him. With a roll of her eyes, she smiles at me. “Peyton, is there anybody that you’re even interested in?”

Not really ready to reveal Justin quite yet, partially because I’m not sure how long he’s going to be in the picture or what he really wants from me, for that matter, I shrug and take a sip of my water. “No.”

A soft grin comes across her face. “Then, whose hat are you wearing?”

Cautiously, I raise my free hand and touch the brim of the fedora. Embarrassed, I blush and sigh. “A friend’s.”

“Like a special friend?” My dad pauses all movements. I hum again. “A friend.”

“Like a share homework friend or like a kiss on the couch friend?”

“Tim!” My mother pops him on the arm. “Let’s go.”

“A friend, huh? He better stay that way.” Dad quickly points at me before following my mother over to the door. “A non-kissing friend.”

Smirking, I shake my head. “Good night, Dad.”

“Good night,” They call back in unison before leaving.

Amazed that Justin let me leave with his hat, I slide it off and stare at it longingly. Maybe all he wants is this painting, or maybe he really finds me worth being around, but either way, it feels good to have a little amount of attention coming my way.

I quickly rush to my room, slip out of my uniform and into a pair of old paint sweats and a tank, and make sure to grab my phone in case he decides to call before he comes.

Once my parents are gone, I find my way back to the corner of the second floor where my father usually spends time working on new techniques and ideas. Sliding a loose wall panel to the side, I slip out the painting and place it on the easel to admire my handiwork.