As I stare up at the brick wall that's supposed to be my canvas for the mural competition, I can't help but feel slightly intimidated. Of course, the wall is bigger than my required size, so I had taped off twelve-by-twelve feet for the project. The next step is to clean and prime the wall before doing anything else.
"So, you're finally starting?"
I jump at the voice behind me. Jamie stands there holding the art hall pass in her right hand. Did she leave class to come and find me?
"Just prepping," I inform. "I still have to clean and prime the wall."
"They picked a good spot." Jamie steps closer.
She's right. The wall Mr. Z picked out is perfect. It sits in a closed corridor, but the cool thing about it is that the ceiling had skylights. There are also glass double-doors that lead outside. When it's a beautiful day, the sunshine reflects throughout the hall and makes the space wonderful.
It'll only look better once there's a nice mural painted.
"Is Mr. Z excusing you from class to work on the mural?" Jamie wonders.
"Yeah." I start scrubbing the wall. "I've taken his class for three years, so the administration doesn't have a problem with it."
As much as I love having Jamie's attention, homecoming is still severely burned into my brain. I've noticed she and Jacki were growing closer, and it was only a matter of time before they get together. I didn't want to be anywhere near Jamie when that happened, especially after the look Jacki had given me the night of homecoming.
It was like she was trying to tell me something, or threaten me, and it had terrified me.
"You and Jacki..." Jamie starts. My blood runs cold. "Is there a reason you two hate each other?"
Hate. It's such a strong word. Before Jamie showed up, I never would've described my feelings toward Jacki as "hate." Now, after coming to terms of how Jamie makes me feel, and how Jacki seems to be flaunting her in front of me every chance she gets ... hate now seems to suffice.
But I have to be the good guy.
"I don't hate Jacki," I lie. "And I don't really know why she has such an issue with me."
"Well, she says you do."
I stop scrubbing and turn around. "I do, what, exactly?"
"She says you do know why she has an issue with you."
I feel myself becoming defensive. My arms cross upon my chest as I allow my weight to rest on my left leg.
"Is that all she told you?" I press.
I can tell I'm intimidating Jamie by the worry in her hazel eyes. Is she scared of me? Or is she scared of getting on my bad side, afraid that I'll ice her out again? I try to calm down.
"Y-Yeah," she stutters. "Jacki's very secretive."
Yeah, well, so am I, I think.
I take a deep breath and turn back around. My scrubbing intensifies as I picture Jacki brainwashing Jamie about me during their time together.
"Yeah," I agree. "She's also manipulative."
Jamie remains silent after that. I don't bother turning around and hope she's left to go back to class. I don't want her to see how angry I am. I hate that I'm showing my jealousy. It's probably super obvious. After a few minutes of silence, Jamie eventually breaks it.
"You say you don't hate Jacki, but every time she's brought up, or comes around, I can tell you don't necessarily like her, either."
God, why is she pressing me so hard about this? Does she like Jacki that much? That thought alone infuriates me.
"Why does it matter?" I find myself asking. It's the only thing my brain can think up as a response.
Jamie looks stunned when I abruptly face her again. I wait for an answer, but her words seem to fail her. Or she's scared of telling me the truth.
"Why do you care if I like her or not?" I repeat.
How had we gotten here? I feel as if we're standing on the edge of a cliff, and I don't like it, but I feel like she's trying to make me admit something that I'm not ready to. I feel threatened. And when I feel threatened, I get defensive.
"Because I feel like I have to pick a side."
"I make you feel like that?"
She sighs. "No, I just..."
"So, Jacki makes you feel like that."
"Peyton." Jamie says. "I'm just saying, there's a lot of tension and I don't get it."
"And I'm saying... I don't ever talk about Jacki to you behind her back," I inform. "It's obvious who's wrong in this situation, isn't it?"
I turn back around for the final time. It's probably best that we end this conversation here, because if we continue, I will surely give away how much I truly did hate Jacki. Especially after learning that she talks about me to Jamie. She's probably trying to convince her that I'm the manipulative one.
What a bitch!
"Peyt..."
I feel her hand gently fall onto my shoulder, but I'm too worked up. My body instinctively pulls away.
"You should probably head back," I coldly advise. "Mr. Z is nice, but he doesn't like people ditching his class."
There's a small moment of hesitation and silence. Then I hear footsteps disappear behind me, meaning Jamie's taken my advice. The weight squeezing my lungs releases as I take a deep breath. What the hell just happened?
And why do I feel as if things between Jamie and me have turned sour again?
⢠⢠â¢
Organ music echoes through the church and reflects off the tall brick walls, giving me the sense of fire and brimstone days. It's not that I didn't like church, but, well... no. I don't like it. Who am I kidding?
Being raised in a Catholic family, within a predominantly Baptist and Protestant community, it's hard to skip out on Sunday mass. It's like the hardcore Catholics have something to prove. Sometimes, I can lie and say I have an extracurricular commitment to get out of it, but today is not one of those days.
Alyssa, who has come home to visit this weekend, sits on my right while my parents sit on my left. We're about halfway through, but I can't help but continuously check the time.
"It'll pass faster if you stop checking your watch," Alyssa says.
"I can't help it," I answer.
"Be quiet you two," my mother orders.
I roll my eyes. It's not that I'm not religious, I just don't believe in the institutional aspect of the church. Plus, it's hard not to notice the persecution of anyone who identifies as LGBTQ+ openly, especially when it's condemned out in the open without shame.
Eventually mass ends and we exit the church. The morning weather is miraculously nice and cool now that October is well underway, but I don't expect it to last long. Georgia is hot most of the year.
I head for the car, but instead, my mom expresses that she wants to talk to the priest.
"Hold on, Peyt," my dad says.
I groan as I lean against a brick pillar.
"You're in a mood today," Alyssa observes.
"No, I'm not."
"You're totally in a moody mood."
I know she's right, but I don't want to talk about it. Ever since the talk with Jamie at the beginning of the week, I haven't felt like myself. There's this constant worry of what Jacki is telling her, and then there's the tension I've created by refusing to admit I hate Jacki because she has something with Jamie I desperately want.
I'm just too cowardly to do anything about it.
When my mother finally finishes talking, we head for the car. It isn't until we're all settled in that Ms. Stanley, the owner of Stanley's Sno-Cones, walks by holding hands with her spouse, who is also a woman. I've always secretly admired how brave they both are for still showing up to church regardless of the stares and whispers.
"Now, I'm not saying homosexuality is bad..." my mom starts.
Here we go, I think to myself.
"But at church? When there are children around?"
"Mom..." Alyssa groans.
"I'm just saying, it's not something I would want my young to see!" she defends her ignorant comment.
I remain silent, because I feel like if I chime in, it'll only make things worse for my situation. Of course, that doesn't stop Alyssa.
"Why?" my sister fumes. "Why is love something you wouldn't want your children to see?"
"Children copy," my mom claims. "And I just don't think young, susceptible eyes should have to see that. It's confusing."
"You sound really homophobic."
"I'm not homophobic."
I just stare out the window while my sister argues with my mom. Cars and trees pass but I've zoned out. I feel myself going numb. Then my eyes meet my dad's in the rearview mirror, and I pull them away quickly. I don't want him to see how badly this conversation is hurting me.
I don't want anyone to see how much I'm hurting, no matter the cost.