7.

Atticus took my words literally. Extremely literally. Meaning: he said hello to me in the morning, and nodded whenever we saw each other in the hallway. That was all.

Not that I had much time to worry about our still extremely bumpy relationship. I hardly had time to think about Atticus at all. With the opening party of the school year coming up and being in charge of all the decorations and designs, I was kept busy.

Wiping the sweat off my brow with my sleeve, I got up and stared down at my freshly finished work. Since canvas painting was my forte, Becky and the others at the Student Council had agreed to let me paint some of the wall-decorations for the opening party by hand, rather than digitally designing and printing them.

The theme was "Safari" and the goal was to collect money for animal protection services, the clear winner of the polls on what charity we should support as a school.

I'd decided to go for a cartoon style. Some very adorable monkeys, if I could say so myself, hung from the letters spelling out: 'opening academic year 2018.' It would be placed in the assembly hall.

"Aw, that's so cute!" Becky stood next to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. She smiled widely at first, but then her face contorted into a frown. "I'm so sorry you're missing your first football training for this, though."

"That's alright, honestly," I assured Becky. "The paintings have priority. If I don't do them now they won't be finished and dried up before the party. Dad understands."

That was only partly true. He was annoyed I wasn't going after signing up. But it was hot as hell outside, and Dad got a little too fanatic about me making the football team for my tastes. He gave me a training schedule to 'whip me into shape' and everything, and expected me to follow it to a T.

"There's always the next football training," Becky said. "The party is only once."

"Yeah," I agreed. "All the time in the world to become a football stud."

I hadn't been slowing down any on the sweets and junk food in any case. Working hard, getting used to a new school, and trying to alter a lifelong diet just didn't go together. Didn't work. Despite Dad's efforts to whip me into shape fast for the football team. I should remind him that I wasn't suddenly a top athlete.

"No," Mandy groaned. "Don't become football stud. You're such an adorable, soft boy now."

I patted my stomach and laughed. "This will all still be here next week, don't worry. I'm not trainin' nearly half as hard as the varsity team."

And Dad let pretty much everyone make the team after all, except that accidental body-slam guy who pissed off Atticus. I wasn't saying Atticus had a hand in it... but I kinda was saying he had a hand in it. I felt bad for the guy to be honest, and the jealousy theory seemed even more stupid now. I had hardly spent time with Dad aside from dinners, while Atticus seemed to literally be able to convince my dad not to take someone on the team.

I should invite Dad somewhere sometime. We finally had the chance to hang out more now, but we still kind of didn't. Living in his house had the opposite effect. We no longer had our weekly calls as a habit and it meant we talked less than usual.

"Mandy, could you get started on an inventory check in the back?" Becky asked with slightly pursed lips.

She wasn't happy Mandy had word-vomited all over the place and told everyone I was gay, even after I said it was okay. I also got the feeling she was way more bothered than I was about Mandy gushing and squeeing about my accent, my golden-haired, freckled, sweet country look. It got a bit annoying and embarrassing sometimes, but she wasn't on my nerves.

"And do you need some help painting anything, Kade?" Becky tilted her head to the side. Now that Mandy was gone, that little wrinkle between her eyebrows was gone, too.

"I could use some help on the larger ones. It's really simple - just big surfaces with animal patterns."

Becky nodded. "Okay, I will send Atticus and Corey your way when they get here from football practice in any case." She narrowed her eyes, scanning the assembly hall for anyone who didn't look busy enough.  And she locked onto a victim who was standing at the entrance with his hands in his pockets.

"Jonah!"

The pale, curly-haired boy looked up. Becky waved him over.

"Can you help out with the paintings?"

Jonah kept his hands in his jeans pockets, but trudged over to us. Both his eyes and hair seemed dark from a distance, but when he was standing in front of us I realised his eyes were brown with blue hazel; brown around the pupil, blue on the outer ring. I didn't even know that was possible.

Then, I realised it had to look weird, me staring intently at Jonah's irises.

He gave me a pass on my weird behaviour. He just smiled.

"Yeah, I can help. I'm not a good painter or anything, though."

"Not necessary," I said. "It's very self-explanatory when you see it."

"Alright,  you can get to work. I need to call again about the bands." Becky's eyes went  skyward and she let out a frustrated groan.

"It'll be alright Becky!" I called after her, to which she just dramatically groaned again, this time also throwing her hands in the air. She'd been stressing so hard over this party, I really hoped she'd be able to enjoy it in the end.

"So, show me the paintings and teach me, Picasso," Jonah said, making me turn to him.

He gestured at the welcoming sign with the monkeys. "You're good. Ever considered going into theatre? We could use someone like you for the sets. People always start working on them too late. Besides... a lot of us queers hang out there, too."

Wow. Hint received loud and clear. The word had spread to the theatre circles. Jonah knew who I was, and he knew I was gay, too. He didn't even need his lopsided smile to accompany his words.

"I'm pretty filled up already with football and the Student Council, but I'll take a look," I promised. I walked towards the big, unfinished paintings and Jonah followed.

"Cool," he said. "If you're not joining, you should definitely come to one of our plays sometime."

There was something in Jonah's expression. He was staring into my eyes a bit longer than necessary. There was a half-smile playing on his lips.

I think he was flirting.

I knew he was flirting when we got brushes, started working on the painting, and Jonah jokingly flicked some paint onto my overall with a twinkle in his eye. I laughed and sprayed some back.

Then, Atticus and Corey walked into the assembly hall. Becky pointed at us, but Atticus was already staring.

I had seen him mad. I'd seen him annoyed. But I'd never seen him glare with this kind of unnerving thoroughness. The weirdest part of this all: I wasn't the recipient this time.  Jonah was.

Corey kept darting glances at Atticus, who seemed increasingly more uncomfortable the closer he and Corey got to us.

It wasn't the gay flirting, which was my usual conclusion when people looked uncomfortable like this. It couldn't be, since he was gay, too.

Jonah didn't seem to care, or pretended very hard not to care, about Atticus. He'd opted to continue painting the stripes of the zebra pattern.

"So, Becky said you guys needed help?" Corey asked.

"There are only three paintbrushes," Atticus cut in brusquely, before I could reply. He turned to Corey. "You paint. I'll help Mandy move some stuff in the back."

Jonah briefly looked up from his painting work when Atticus strode off, stiff and rigid, but he promptly smiled when he made eye-contact with me.

Atticus disappeared around the corner, and Jonah was back to dipping his paintbrush in the white paint like nothing had happened. Corey also either didn't realise all the awkwardness dripping off of this painting scene (I wouldn't be surprised in his case) or pretended nothing was going on.

I, however, smelled a story here between the jock and the theatre guy.