Rain In My Heart (2 page)

‘
Hello, Curtis
,’
said Gemma, narrowing her glare
.‘
Hello
, Leon
.
’

‘
All right, Gem
,’
said Leon, running a hand through his wet hair.

I smiled again, but he did
n’
t see.  As he chatted to the boys, I stood in my puddle of love-struck shame, wishing the rain would wash me away.  In that moment, it did
n’
t feel like I was anywhere on his radar.  Not even close.  Then, just as we bundled through the door, I heard his voice behind me.

‘
All right, Kate
,’
he whispered.

And my heart nearly exploded.

Chapter Two

              We pushed through the double doors, up the steps to the art room.  Miss Nevis was waiting at the top.

            
 ‘
About time
,’
she said. 

              She glanced at each of us, clocked our attendance, then ushered us inside.  The strip lights of the interior felt overwhelmingly bright after the gloom outside.  It was only half one in the afternoon, but it might as well have been dusk.  The noise of the rain on the skylights was crazy.

‘
Save us, Miss
!’
said Curtis, gazing upwards
.‘
Sounds like i
t’
s about to come through! Maybe we should all go home?  Health and Safety?'

‘
Nice try,' said Miss Nevis.

‘
Honestly.  I heard this is the most
muchos
rain w
e’
ve had in
seventy years
.  It was on the news this morning.  There's been a flood alert and everything - '

He paused for a moment.

‘
So, how do they work that out, do you reckon?  I mean, do they have to measure the rain?  Do they use a ruler or something
?
’

Gemma frowned.

‘
Yes
,’
she said, with a sarcastic smile.
 ‘
When the rain gets very bad, Curtis, all the little weathermen take out their special weatherman rulers, then they make a pretty bar graph and colour it in. 
Idiot
.  Of course they do
n’
t use a ruler
.
’

Curtis huffed.

‘
I was only asking
.
’

‘
Do
n’
t worry, Cur
t’,’
said Leon.
 ‘
They probably use something more high-tech than a ruler.  But you leave that to the experts.  Stick to drumming, mate
.
’

‘
Yeah, because yo
u’
re really good at drumming
,’
said Gemma, with even more sarcasm - sometimes she could
n’
t help herself.

              Miss Nevis snapped her fingers.

            
 ‘
Enough banter, thank you
,’
she said
.‘
This is a detention, not an evening at the pub.  Anyway,
I’
ve got a task for you.  Rather than have you sit and sulk,
I’
d like you all to help me paint a mural on the back wall.  I
t’
s something I've wanted to get done for ages.  If we all co
-
operate -
assuming
you know what that means - and use our different skills,
I’
m sure w
e’
ll produce a masterpiece
.’
                           

I smiled.  This suited me.  I loved doing creative stuff.  I was
n’
t so sure about the others though.  Leon and Curtis were
n’
t exactl
y‘
art
y’
.  They studied maths and business (obviously, I'd memorised Leon's entire timetable).  And Gemma and Greg, well, they were too fixated on each other to get excited about a mural. 

It didn't take long before their 'huddling' started.  While Miss Nevis organised our equipment, they sneaked behind the easels and started doing their usual interlocking fingers/face-stroking thing. Hard to believe they'd only been going out for a few months.  So much had changed.  I mean, before Gemma got together with Greg, she used to wear hoop earrings and lip-gloss.  Now, it was all about undercuts and black eyeliner.  To be honest, I quite liked the old Gemma.  I liked the new one too, but it had a fe
w‘
edge
s’
I had
n’
t quite figured out.

While they entangled themselves in each other, Curtis began pulling boxes of glitter from the shelves, dipping his hands in, rummaging and flicking. For as long as I'd known Curtis La Mont he'd been the class joker, permanently switched ont
o‘
clow
n’
mode.  I liked him though.  He was fun and kind of sweet, but god knows how Leon put up with his hype, day in day out.

Leon, for that matter, had positioned himself near one of the rain-splattered windows.  He was studying a leaflet about wood carving, but I could tell he was only pretending.  Really, he was side-glancing at his reflection, checking the sweep of his hair.  And I, on the sly, was checking him - his perfect lips, his long, dark eyelashes, the muscular outline of his shoulders.  Everything about him was lovely.  But it was more than that.  Everything was - how do I say this -
what yo
u’
d want
.  I mean, if Curtis was the class joker, then Leon was the class favourite, the top boy. The One. 

Suddenly, he looked up.  His gaze caught mine.  I shied away, embarrassed.  In an effort to look busy, I took out of myportfolio and started sketching some ideas for the mural.  My hair kept falling into my eyes, getting in the way. 
I’
d spent an hour in the mirror that morning, battling with hair straighteners.  Fifteen inches of thick auburn waves can be pretty wayward, but I had acause.  Earlier that week,
I’
d overheard Leon telling Curtis he preferred girls with straight hair.  Naturally,
I’
d taken it to heart.

Just as I finished my first sketch, Leon wandered over.  I had to bite my lip to stop from grinning.  He smiled and started siftingthrough my sketchpad, asked if
I’
d ever considered designing band logos.

‘
Seriously
,’
he said
,‘I’
d love to get someone to do artwork for me, for album covers and promo work and stuff.  Do you know street art
?
’

‘
Yeah
.
’ 

A lie.  I did
n’
t know anything about street art.

‘
Who do you like
?
’

‘
Um, Banksy
?
’

Banksy was the only person
I‘
d heard of.

Leon nodded as he fiddled with one of his piercings.

‘
This is a weird way to spend a Saturday, is
n’
t it
?’
he said.
 ‘
Like, is Miss Nevis a bit
mad
?
’

‘
No
,’
I said, nervous sparks flying in every direction.
 ‘
Sh
e’
s nice
.
’

‘
I mean mad at
us
, for messing up her room
?
’

I shrugged.

‘
As teachers go, sh
e’
s pretty decent.  A bit strict, but...it's good sh
e’
s given us this mural to do, isn't it? At least we have a purpose
-
’

‘
But it was only a clay fight, right?   No big a deal.  I mean, until Curtis got that

tub of grey gloopy stuff and lobbed it - that bit was quite bad.'

I winced, remembering the sight of the bucket of clay slip as it flew through the air, splattering all over the drying racks, ruining a stack of coursework.  As soon as it happened I felt awful.  I could
n’
t believe
I’
d played a part in destroying other peopl
e’
s hard work, wrecking the art room - my favourite place in the whole school - just because I was trying to keep up, impress Leon Prentice. 

‘
Yo
u’
d have come in and done this mural anyway, right
?
’

His eyes were now fixed to his phone screen, fingers texting.  I could
n’
t help wondering who he was texting.  Or maybe it was a status update:
just chattin with the grl of my dreams!

              In
my
dreams.

‘
I can use it for my portfolio
,’
I said.
 ‘
As long as i
t’
s good
.
’

‘
I
t’
ll be good
,’
he said.
 ‘
If yo
u’
re in charge
.
’

Oh, god!

‘
What about you
?’
I said, determined to keep the conversation going.
 ‘
Do you mind being here
?
’

‘
Not my usual scene, but it beats busking in the pissing rain
.
’

‘
You go busking
?
’

‘
Sometimes
.
’

Suddenly, Curtis leaped onto Leo
n’
s back. He was wearing an African mask, which he must have found among Miss Nevi
s’
s still-life props.  He pulled it back, waggled his sunglasses, and made a silly face.  Miss Nevis marched over and snatched the mask off him.  I thought she was about to tell us to stop wasting time, but instead, she looked uncharacteristically flustered.

            
 ‘
It's a
mystery
,’
she said, shaking her head.
 ‘
I ordered twenty tins of paint for this mural.  Rollers, brushes,
everythin
g
…
and the whole lot has disappeared, a long with a ter
m’
s worth of modelling cla
y–
and I assure you, tha
t’
s
a
lot
of clay.  I don't get it!  Yesterday, my order was piled up outside the classroom door.  Today...
gone
.
’

            
 ‘
Maybe you imagined you had it
?’
said Curtis.

            
 ‘
I do
n’
t
imagine
things
,
’ said Miss Nevis, shaking her head.
 ‘
Sadly, I can only assume i
t’
s been stolen.  Either that, or it's sprouted feet and walked out. 
I’
m afraid the only way the mural can happen now is if I drive to the retail park and pick up more paint
-
’

            
 ‘I’
ll go
,’
said Curtis hopefully.

              I could see Miss Nevis thinking this through.  Curtis on a mission, getting side-tracked by a text message, stopping off to get some chicken wings, then blowing all the paint money on phone credit and scratch cards.

            
 ‘
I think
I’
ll
go
,’
she said
.‘
And while
I’
m gone, you can start drawing the design on the back wall.  Have you finalised your idea, yet
?
’

I pushed my best sketch to the front: a trail of girl/boy figures holding hands against a sunset, headed by a couple who vaguely resembled Leon and I - embarrassing, but I couldn't help myself.

‘
Yes, I like this
,’
said Miss Nevis.
 ‘
I like the flow.  It reminds me of dance
.
’

‘
Looks like a bunch of naked aliens to me
,’
said Curtis, grinning.

‘
I
t’
s representation
,’
said Miss Nevis.
 ‘
The figures are supposed to
represent
humans.  Or aliens.  Or whatever you like.  They do
n’
t have to be realistic
.
’