She told me out of all the years she’d been assigning this project, she’d never seen characters and animals look as though they were about to come to life. The details were beyond any student’s capabilities, she had told me. I’d even detailed things she wouldn’t have considered. She said she stared at my piece for forty-seven minutes, determined to find something to suggest improvement about, but was simply blown away each time.
Something about Sarah telling me she thought I knew where I belonged triggered that memory. I slowed in my steps back from the beach, stopping to turn to stare at the bright-blue sky. A slow, genuine smile formed on my face for the first time in days.
I knew what I wanted. I had the same feeling the last time I’d thought about Mrs. Venner’s words. I wanted to be an artist. Not the kind who paints all day and then tries to display her Picassos in second-rate galleries. But a cartoonist. My characters weren’t something I ever took for granted. They were alive to me. I never drew anything that didn’t tell a story just by looking at it.
I did have a dream I was chasing. And I was full-blown ready to do it.
Walking back into my apartment, I lightly tossed my sandals off, careful not to wake Rachel, and made myself a fresh cup of coffee. It was Saturday, after all. I didn’t have to work. I could spend all day on this. I pulled out the folding chair by the kitchen and popped open my laptop. I started my research on a few schools in New York; some had amazing art programs with a variety of focuses. I remembered many from when I had considered applying before I graduated high school, but this time I had nothing and no one stopping me. As far as I was concerned, I was already halfway there.
I couldn’t tell if it was the smell of the morning air or the coffee, but the thought of a fresh start jolted me into action.
Throughout the rest of the day, I’d taken breaks to refuel, get some air, consult with Rachel on details, and get her input. But mostly I spent the day glued to my computer and putting together application materials for submission. Rachel seemed more excited than I was, offering to do research on one school while I was applying to another. I appreciated her enthusiasm in helping me multitask, but just having her support meant a lot.
“I don’t think you need to look any further. There are really only two I’m interested in,” I told her.
Late Saturday night I called my dad to check in and make sure he’d landed safely. I did take the opportunity to tell him about my plans. He was more than thrilled that I had one and offered to help in any way he could, and not only financially.
“Actually, there is something you can do for me.” I said, taking his offer. “Can you go to my room and pull out the box from under my bed?”
CHAPTER 24
What are you going to do with your car?” Rachel asked Sunday morning at breakfast. I wasn’t in the mood for going out so Rachel offered to stay in and fry up some eggs. “You’re not going to need it in the city.”
“Probably donate it. I’ll make more back on the tax write-off than if I sold it.” But at that point, it had all been hypothetical, since my applications to the two schools were less than one day in process and I was already past deadline on one of them.
“That’s too bad. I may have been willing to take it off your hands.”
“Really? I thought you didn’t need one where you are.”
“No, but I would probably need it to come see Peter throughout the year,” Rachel said playfully.
I was happy for her, but the thought immediately made my stomach drop. I swallowed. “Have you guys made any plans for after the summer?”
“Not really, but he asked me to meet him at Emmons café today.”
I took another sip of my coffee and lifted my eyebrows. “Here’s your chance.”
“No.” She protested immediately. “I’m not just going to go running every time he calls. Besides, I’m not leaving you today.”
“What? I don’t need a babysitter,” I insisted. “You should go and spend time with Peter before you guys are miles away from each other.”
She stared at me, as if she needed another push.
“Go.”
“Promise me you’re not going to stay in and be miserable all day.” She started backing toward the door.
“I’m not going to be miserable. I’m going to have a lovely time pulling up everything I need to submit with my application.”
“Promise me you’ll go out.”
I sighed. “I promise.”
“Great.” She smiled. Then her expression turned definite. “Pick me up a key chain at Jake’s Souvenir Shop.”
“What, you want proof?”
“Damn right.” She stomped. Then her face fell and she shrugged. “Besides, if Peter turns me down, I’ll need something to remember this place by.”
