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Then she gives him her lightning-fast smile and holds up her can.
Want some? I'll find a cup for you since I don't want your germs all over the
place. I mean, maybe if I knew you better--- I obey my cue.
Gabriel, this is Agatha. Agatha, this is Gabriel. They shake hands, the
movement of their arms long and ropy. I press the edge of the soda tab into my
palm until the metal pinches my skin.
So how do you know Tam? Agatha asks him.
Tam and I go way back His eyes meet mine briefly. My face feels warm and I
drink some Coke quickly.
Oh? Agatha says.
Family friends, I say.
Gabriel and his mom just moved back here.
Cool, Agatha says.
So, do you think I captured her essence? she asks and, to my horror, holds out
her sketchpad to Gabriel.
That's my assignment. 'Capture the essence of your subject. '
Um . . . he doesn't need to see that, I say, moving forward to snag the
sketchpad out of Agatha's hand. But she sidesteps me and I'm too late
anyway--Gabriel is already examining her drawing with interest.
Not so good, right? she prompts as they both study the page and then me so
intently that I want to sink through the floor.
Not your fault, Gabriel says at last.
Take it from me, Tarn's pretty hard to pin down on paper.
You're right, Agatha says as if that's the most profound thing she's heard all
day. Just in time I remind myself it's probably not all that attractive to snort. Her
gaze snags on the yellow flyer, now on my desk.
What's this?
That's my show. You should come.
Agatha nods enthusiastically. Like me, she loves checking out bands on the
weekends.
Where?
Silver Tree.
Awesome. Our fake IDs work there She drinks more of her Coke, sets the can
on her desk, and rummages around for a few minutes.
Where did I put my freaking charcoals?
They're probably in your closet. On the top shelf, Gabriel says helpfully. Agatha
gives him a dubious look but walks over to her closet anyway, reaching for the
top shelf. Then she whirlsaround, charcoal set in hand, her eyes wide and
wondering.
How did you know that? Gabriel shrugs.
Uh . . . it's where I like to keep all my important stuff. In the closet.
Thanks for stopping by, I say brightly, pinning the flyer to the cluttered square
of corkboard over my desk.
So you're coming next weekend? I nod. I really wish that I could come up with
something witty right about now, but he doesn't give me time.
Great to meet you, he tells Agatha before winking at me and walking out the
door.
Does that mean he's gay? Agatha muses after we hear the hallway door
close. I choke on my soda.
That closet comment he made, she prompts when I stare at her.
I don't think so, I gasp, my nose tingling sharply. Agatha whacks me on the
back.
Good, because he is hot. Hot with three t's. I settle back down onto the
beanbag, arranging my legs in a more comfortable position.
You think so? I say neutrally after a minute. The soda tab snaps off the top of
the Coke can. The metal is now warm from my hand.
Don't you?
He's okay, I say. Agatha gives me a wry look over the top of her sketchpad.
And he's totally in love with you.
What? I sit upright.
Be still, Agatha says, lifting her pencil. She's smiling. But you don't-- She rolls
her eyes, tapping her pencil on the page.
It's obvious, stupid. I lean back, trying to digest this information, trying to
figure out how I feel. Then I shake my head.
He's a friend of the family.
Agatha frowns at me.
So what? How can I explain to Agatha that for me that's something to be
avoided at all costs? That falling for Gabriel would really torch any hope of
escaping from the seriously suffocating arms of my family. I roll the soda tab
between my fingers.
Not my type.
Hmm, Agatha says, studying my face a little too long.
Try not to move so much this time. I sigh inwardly, relieved that she's off the
topic of Gabriel. But then she adds,
And stop blushing, too.
SIX
BY THE TIME Gabriel's show comes around a week later, I feel ready for a
break from school. Agatha and I have been quizzing each other relentlessly on
SAT vocab words every night before bed. Consequently, I dream of opening up
a test booklet full of words that I've never seen before. And every day more and
more college catalogs arrive at the downstairs front desk for us to look at.
Agatha keeps mentioning Reed and Stanford and the University of San Diego. I
don't have the heart to tell her that my parents will never let me leave the state,
let alone go across the country. We spend our usual amount of time getting
ready. Me: ten minutes. Agatha: going on an hour as she tries on and discards
every shirt in her closet before moving over to mine.
That looks great, I say for the fourth time, my head bent over my copy of The
Tempest.
Am I getting fat? Agatha moans, standing before the full-length mirror that we
glued to the back of the door. Who knows how we're getting it off at the end of
the year. No, I say automatically, then snap my book shut. I wander over to
my makeup kit, pick up my green glitter eye shadow, and decide to apply
another coat to my eyelids. I'm relatively happy with my outfit, a denim overalls
mini dress with my green and gold tube top underneath.
Okay, how's this? Agatha has paired my My Little Pony T-shirt with a white
miniskirt.
Great! Ready? She looks at me, horrified.
I have to do my makeup! When we reach the bar, it's standing room only and
the show has already started. Gabriel is on stage, wearing jeans and a black
T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His acoustic guitar is cradled in his arms, his face
illuminated by a narrow spotlight overhead. A girl wearing a pink and black slip
over incredibly skinny jeans is singing in a whispery, almost breathless way into
the mike, her hips twisting and turning slowly with the music. The guitar chords
wrap just under her silvery voice as she sings something about the sea and a
shadow she can't ever forget. I listen to the words and try to ignore the thought
that she's probably Gabriel's girlfriend.
Beer? Agatha says in my ear, and I nod, my eyes still fixed to the stage.
Gabriel plays on and the girl sings another song, sometimes picking up a flute to
accompany him on the guitar. The bar is crowded, people flickering in and out
of the dimlight, sometimes jostling into me. Agatha comes back after a while
and presses a cold glass into my hand, then waves away my offer of money.
They're pretty good, she says finally, and I'm grateful that she doesn't say she's
pretty good. I nod and sip my beer, and just then the girl announces in a totally
normal voice that they will take a set break. Then her voice dips a little again
and she reminds the crowd that CDs on the back table are an amazing bargain
at ten dollars each. She gives this hint of a smile and a wiggle of her body as she
says this, and all around me people clap and a few guys wolf whistle. The lights
brighten slightly and a crush of people moves to the bar on the other side of the
room.
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