the creamy white paper. I draw a line, straight down, and then curved. I don’t even know what I’m going for, but it doesn’t look right. I flip the page and start fresh. This time I draw a shorter line then curve it to the right. I keep going. I add lips – a little full, a nose – a little flat, and eyes – thin, and narrow, beneath a tilted brow.
I’m drawing him , I realize. Grant, in profile. The way he looked that night in that split second I was staring at him, right before he caught me looking.
He is beautiful. Drawing in black and white I can’t capture the coppery tone of his cheek, or the deep brown of his eyes. But I’ve got that little tilt of his neck, and the faint dimple in his chin.
I stare at the drawing for a minute, then abandon the sketch and flip back through previous drawings. I stop near the front of the book on a drawing of Colin from almost a year ago. Sightings of him being scarce, I drew it from memory. But he doesn’t look quite right. Like I missed something, I’m just not sure what.
***
Later that night I’m sitting on my bed trying to get through my physics homework when the phone rings. Not the house phone, which is still unplugged, but Dad’s office line, which is still hooked up due to the fact that it’s unlisted and only people we know have the number.
Mom saunters into my room and holds out the cordless silver handset from downstairs.
“It’s your sister,” she says. I stare at her, awaiting further explanation, seeing as ‘your sister’ really doesn’t narrow the field of who might be calling by that much.
“Arianna,” she finally tells me.
I wrinkle my nose. The world really must be off its axis right now. Little Miss thinks she knows absolutely everything about absolutely everyone – she drives me nuts – trying to control my life and everyone else’s.
“Hello?” I hold the phone to my ear.
“Sydney,” Arianna says curtly.
“What’s up?”
“What’s up is that my sister is running around like a little harlot with some illustrious film star and I have to find out about it on the television. You couldn’t be bothered to call me, to warn me?”
I hold the phone away from my ear and glare at it. Don’t be fooled by her big words, she just called me a slut.
I put the phone back to my ear. She doesn’t even give me time to answer her question, but continues on.
“I was in the pub at school this afternoon when your photo came on the screen and suddenly everyone was saying, ‘West Plane, aren’t you from West Plane Arianna? And isn’t your last name Kane too?’ Before I could come up with some reasonable way to pretend I didn’t know you, everyone had figured out we’re related! Now I’m the girl whose sister is with Grant West. Do you know how hard I worked to establish a reputation on this campus, and in one day you wiped it out. No one cares I’m the editor of the Law Review. No one cares that I got an A plus on my last final. All they care about is whether or not you’re going to take me to the premiere of Deader than Night .”
“Well that sucks for you,” I sigh.
“You should have called.”
“I think I have bigger things to worry about right now.”
“Oh hardly. So are you?”
“What?”
“Going to get me tickets to the premiere of Deader than Night . It’s in three weeks in New York. He’s your boyfriend, not mine. You should know these things.”
“Grant isn’t my boyfriend Arianna. I can’t get you tickets to anything.”
“Well what use are you then? Goodbye.” She hangs up.
***
The next few days play out pretty much the same and the previous two. People at school follow me around like I’m some Mecca, Michelle tries to get me to try out for cheerleading, and Mr. Hughes actually starts calling on me during class. The good news, though, is that by Thursday night it seems most of the country’s reporters have given up on me and we can finally plug our main line back in. Caroline was right. The more
I’m drawing him , I realize. Grant, in profile. The way he looked that night in that split second I was staring at him, right before he caught me looking.
He is beautiful. Drawing in black and white I can’t capture the coppery tone of his cheek, or the deep brown of his eyes. But I’ve got that little tilt of his neck, and the faint dimple in his chin.
I stare at the drawing for a minute, then abandon the sketch and flip back through previous drawings. I stop near the front of the book on a drawing of Colin from almost a year ago. Sightings of him being scarce, I drew it from memory. But he doesn’t look quite right. Like I missed something, I’m just not sure what.
***
Later that night I’m sitting on my bed trying to get through my physics homework when the phone rings. Not the house phone, which is still unplugged, but Dad’s office line, which is still hooked up due to the fact that it’s unlisted and only people we know have the number.
Mom saunters into my room and holds out the cordless silver handset from downstairs.
“It’s your sister,” she says. I stare at her, awaiting further explanation, seeing as ‘your sister’ really doesn’t narrow the field of who might be calling by that much.
“Arianna,” she finally tells me.
I wrinkle my nose. The world really must be off its axis right now. Little Miss thinks she knows absolutely everything about absolutely everyone – she drives me nuts – trying to control my life and everyone else’s.
“Hello?” I hold the phone to my ear.
“Sydney,” Arianna says curtly.
“What’s up?”
“What’s up is that my sister is running around like a little harlot with some illustrious film star and I have to find out about it on the television. You couldn’t be bothered to call me, to warn me?”
I hold the phone away from my ear and glare at it. Don’t be fooled by her big words, she just called me a slut.
I put the phone back to my ear. She doesn’t even give me time to answer her question, but continues on.
“I was in the pub at school this afternoon when your photo came on the screen and suddenly everyone was saying, ‘West Plane, aren’t you from West Plane Arianna? And isn’t your last name Kane too?’ Before I could come up with some reasonable way to pretend I didn’t know you, everyone had figured out we’re related! Now I’m the girl whose sister is with Grant West. Do you know how hard I worked to establish a reputation on this campus, and in one day you wiped it out. No one cares I’m the editor of the Law Review. No one cares that I got an A plus on my last final. All they care about is whether or not you’re going to take me to the premiere of Deader than Night .”
“Well that sucks for you,” I sigh.
“You should have called.”
“I think I have bigger things to worry about right now.”
“Oh hardly. So are you?”
“What?”
“Going to get me tickets to the premiere of Deader than Night . It’s in three weeks in New York. He’s your boyfriend, not mine. You should know these things.”
“Grant isn’t my boyfriend Arianna. I can’t get you tickets to anything.”
“Well what use are you then? Goodbye.” She hangs up.
***
The next few days play out pretty much the same and the previous two. People at school follow me around like I’m some Mecca, Michelle tries to get me to try out for cheerleading, and Mr. Hughes actually starts calling on me during class. The good news, though, is that by Thursday night it seems most of the country’s reporters have given up on me and we can finally plug our main line back in. Caroline was right. The more
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