School Ties

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Book: School Ties Read Online Free PDF
Author: Tamsen Parker
what I was doing. I’m hoping if I don’t make it explicit, she’ll let me get away with it. So far, so good. This is my favorite time of day.
    Putting my pencil down on my easel, I wish I were wrapping up a palette full of oils, but my dad had made it clear he wasn’t going to work a minute’s worth of overtime to pay for my “prissy ass hobby. What the fuck do they put in that paint, anyway? Fucking gold dust?”
    I hadn’t bothered to explain that in some cases, yeah, the stuff that goes into the paint is pretty freaking valuable. So I’d dropped Oils III and wheedled my way into Drawing IV, not having taken Drawing III. I think I’m holding my own. From the way Erin looks at my drawings, like they’re actual works of art, I don’t care.
    I tug my coat on and we walk out together.
    â€œSo, tell me something.”
    â€œAbout what?” Her big brown eyes look up, wide and curious. I want to say, “About you. Tell me anything about you. What’s your favorite movie? How do you make your hair smell like that? Why do you like Will Chase?” But those are questions I’m not allowed to ask. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
    â€œNo. Do you?”
    â€œA brother. Caleb. He’s ten.”
    â€œDo you guys get along?”
    â€œYeah.” The corner of my mouth curves up, thinking about him and his sheepdog hair and his goofy laugh. “Not always, but mostly he’s pretty cool.”
    She nods, her mouth tightening up into a bow. “I used to—”
    Her lips close around the word and I want to coax her open until I can reach inside and pull out whatever she was going to say. She’s always locked up so tight, like she doesn’t think anyone would want to hear what she has to say, or like she’s not allowed to say it. Those are the words of hers I want. The secret ones she’s afraid to say out loud. “You used to what?”
    She shakes her head, looks down at the ground and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing.”
    It’s like she’s protecting herself, like I might turn her words back on her and hurt her with them. I wouldn’t and I want her to know.
    â€œYou know I won’t tell, Erin.” Her name’s slipped off my tongue without thinking and my face gets hot. I’ve just made it very clear I don’t always think of her as just a teacher. But she doesn’t scold me. Instead, she blushes, unless I’m imaging that by the lampposts strung along the path.
    â€œFine. I used to pretend I had a brother. That he’d gone away but that he was going to come back for me. That I wasn’t alone.” Her expression’s gone from embarrassed to sad and lost. Maybe she’s still waiting. She seems to remember herself then, smoothing her hands down the sides of her pants before she picks up the pace and says in a canned light kind of way, “His name was Felix. He was quite dashing.”
    I want to stop and hug her, hold her close until she’s not lonely anymore. But I can’t. I
can’t
. I shove my hands in my pockets so I won’t reach for her. I try to think of something to say, something that won’t make her more self-conscious but let her know I heard her, that I’ll keep my promise. My chest squeezes tight around the words. “I’m sure he was.”
    Erin
    It’s the mid-semester art show and study hours at the studio have been more crowded than usual. It’s meant less time spent checking in with Zach Shepherd. Shep. Not that he needs me to check in. He works independently, not bugging the boys who’re slogging away but happy to take a look at a drawing or a painting if someone is struggling.
    He gazes at the oil paintings and sloppy palettes with longing. Why is he taking Drawing if he likes to paint so much? I know from faculty chatter he’s on full
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