Flood

I heard about the fight and felt a little bit of pride toward Charlie. Apparently, she kicked Patty’s ass. Despite that, though, I stood outside of the art building. It had been two days and I hadn’t spoken to her. I had called once to find out when to drop off her textbook but she hadn’t answered.

The bell rang and I groaned. I didn’t have a choice. I walked in and immediately saw her up at front, talking to Professor Ferrell. She was showing her the sketch of the dam. He looked very impressed. He glanced up and saw me, beckoning me over. I hesitated but did.

Charlie didn’t look up as I came up next to her.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” the professor said.

“Got up late,” I mumbled.

“I just finished looking over Charlotte’s sketch. It’s wonderful. Can I see yours?”

I nodded and dug it out of my bag. I handed it over, glancing at Charlie as I did. She had her eyes fixed on her hands. I saw a small bruise on her chin and frowned.

“This is amazing,” the professor said before I could ask her. He smiled at the both of us. “I knew you guys would make great partners.”

“What do you mean?” I asked but he ushered us to our seats.

I bit my lower lip but sat beside Charlie anyway. Professor Ferrell was having the other students come forward to show him their first sketches. I looked at her finally. She was sketching her next flood picture and I sighed.

“You left this at my house,” I said quietly, passing her the textbook.

“Thanks,” she whispered and put it in her bag.

“Look, about at my house,” I began but she finally smiled at me, shaking her head, and I took the message. I smiled back. “So is that where she hit you?”

To my surprise, she snorted. “Yeah,” she said, touching the bruise gently. “Harley warned me that she could throw a punch.”

“I heard you really gave her a lesson.”

She laughed and the air around us relaxed. “I took defense lessons after….”

“Yeah,” I said quickly and she rubbed the back of her neck. “What are you going to do for your next sketch?”

She showed me how she had started on rain clouds. Her perfume was pulling me in and I pretended to shift in my seat so I could move closer to her. Our shoulders were touching but she didn’t seem to notice as she explained what she was doing.

“What do you think?”

I looked up at her. I hadn’t paid attention to a single thing she said. She was staring at me expectantly, looking a little nervous about what I would say.

“Sounds great,” I blurted out and she smiled anxiously, biting her lower lip.

“I just hope it comes out the way I want it to,” she said and turned back to her sketching.

I wanted to grab her face and kiss her but that would just make things awkward again. Instead, I turned back to my own paper and began sketching a large bowl. Even though our shoulders were still touching, I didn’t move. Neither did Charlie.

-

At the restaurant, my mom was going over the hours I had put in for my community service. I bounced on the balls of my feet, crossing my fingers behind my back as she put the numbers into her old calculator. It was her very first one and, even though it was severely outdated, she kept it around. She claimed it was lucky.

“Looks like you’ve gotten 92 of your hours in,” she said, nodding.

“Thank goodness,” I sighed and she chuckled. “Just eight more and I don’t have to worry about finals week.”

“Is that your deadline?” she asked.

“Yeah; he didn’t exactly say it, but I’m sure it would have an effect on my grades.”

“Why did Charlie leave her book at the house the other day?” she asked as we started getting ready for the day.

It was Saturday morning and I had come, not just to add up the hours, but to finish them.

“I don’t know,” I lied, putting the chairs on the floor.

“Uh-huh,” she said and I cringed. “Is it the same reason she got into a fight with Patty Colt?”

I looked up at her, frowning. “How’d you hear about that?”

“Word spreads fast when half of my customers are college students,” she pointed out. “What happened?”

I sat in one of the chairs. “When Charlie and I got coffee, Patty saw us coming out. I guess she thought we were on a date and hunted Charlie down.”

My mom leaned against a table. “I thought you guys were on a date.”

I sighed and toyed with a quarter in my pocket.

“So did I. I don’t know anymore, though. I can’t tell what it is she wants.”

“Have you asked her?” I smirked at her. “Ah, that’s right. You young, hip, cool people don’t do that anymore.”

I laughed. “It’s not like that. I just suck at talking to girls.”

“No you don’t. You never had trouble with Patty or Samantha.”

“That was different,” I argued.

“How?”

I groaned and stood up, walking around on the pretense of straightening the silverware.

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“Is it because you actually like Charlotte?” she whispered and I froze, bent over at a booth.

I didn’t know what to say but my mom didn’t seem to expect an answer. She went back to her office and I frowned out the window.

-

I jiggled my foot as I stared intently at the phone as if staring at her name would cause it to call her. I was biting my lip so hard it was bleeding.

“Just call her,” I said to myself, wiping the little bit of blood of my lip. “Just press that little green button. The worst that can happen is she won’t answer. No. The worst that can happen is she will answer. Damn it!”

I tossed my head back and groaned. I was still battling myself when my phone rang. I let out a very girlish yelp and looked down.

“Oh, God,” I groaned. With shaking hands, I accepted the call. “Hello?” I asked then cringed at my high voice. I cleared my throat. “I mean, hello?”

“Hey,” Charlie said and I made a noise in the back of my throat, trying to speak. “I’m stuck on this sketch and I could use your advice. Can I come over?”

My heart was in my throat. “Ac-Actually, maybe I could come over there?”

I held my breath.

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

I let out the breath and wrote down her dorm information. Without looking at my parents who were eating, I grabbed my keys and art supplies and ran to my car.

I sat outside of her dorm and pounded my head on the steering wheel. I had been sitting there for ten minutes. I was still hitting my head when someone knocked on my window.

I jumped two inches in the air. Charlie was outside my car, looking a little amused. I opened the door and tried to get out but my seatbelt was still buckled. I laughed it off as I quickly unbuckled it and grabbed my stuff.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I breathed, following her up the stairs. “Just…. I forgot my wallet,” I lied.

“So you drove here without your license?” she asked and I laughed with a shrug.

“Well, you know me; always the rebel.”

She just laughed an opened her dorm door. I closed it behind me and looked around me. It looked just like what I expected it to be. Her blanket was blue and her bed was neatly made. She had a desk with a lamp and all of her textbooks piled up on one side. On the other was a plethora of pens and pencils as well as a large sketchbook. Her closet door was closed but she had a dress hanging outside of it.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A dress,” she said with a smirk.

“Ha ha, smartass,” I said, rolling my eyes and she laughed.

“My friends want to go out dancing tomorrow night,” she answered. She cringed. “I have no clue how to dance.”

I waved my hand. “You’ll do fine. So, what are you stuck on?”

She led me to her desk and I leaned against it while she dug the sketch out. I could now see what she was doing. It was a kind of take on Noah’s ark. Instead of an ark, though, she had drawn….

“Is that a bed?” I asked, tilting my head and she cringed.

“Is it really that hard to recognize?” she asked and I laughed.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. It looks great. What’s missing?”

“I can’t decide if it says ‘flood’.”

I took it from her and sat on her bed. I looked at it from an outsider’s point of view.

“If I didn’t know,” I said slowly, “I would think it was a description of a nightmare.” I squinted my eyes, thinking. “Can I borrow your pencil?”

She nodded and brought it over, sitting beside me. I made light strokes on the side of the bed.

“Oh, I see,” she said before I told her why. “That way it doesn’t look like it’s floating.”

“Yep,” I said and handed it back.

She made the changes and I watched. I noticed that, when she was really focused on her work, she would suck her lower lip into her mouth. She would scrunch her face up and swipe her hair out of her face. I looked around and found a hair tie.

“Here,” I whispered and pulled her hair back for her. She froze, her pencil still on the paper. “There. Now you don’t have to worry so much about it getting in the way.”

She cleared her throat a few times. “Where did you learn to do hair?”

“My aunt,” I answered, standing up and stretching. “On the days where she was severely depressed, I would go in and do her hair for her. It always seemed to cheer her up a little and we’d spend the rest of the day talking about art.”

“That’s awesome,” she said softly and I nodded, strolling to the dress.

“So, where are you guys going tomorrow?”