Page 45 of Unforgettable
My phone rang, and Aunt Kari’s name lit up my screen. I tapped it to answer.
“Where are you?” she asked. “I went to check your room, and you were gone.” Her voice sounded excited rather than worried.
“I decided to brave the new world,” I teased.
“Good. I’m glad your friends made an impact the other night.”
“I’m at Woodcreek High to pick up some of Leigh’s belongings.”
“What? Are you sure you’re ready to do that?” Her tone dripped with concern. “I can head down and join you.”
“Nah. I want to do this alone. I’ll talk to you later.” I ended the call before she could give me psychological pointers like she’d tried to do the day before. Maybe she was another reason I’d showered, dressed, and shaved. I hated seeing the despair written all over her face. It was as if my mom had been counseling me.
I hopped out of my car and strutted into the school. The halls were deathly quiet as I followed the signs to the admin office. I knew the school well since I’d attended Woodcreek High.
However, instead of heading to the admin office, I decided to take a detour to the library. One of my last conversations with my sister had been about a painting she’d done. Her art teacher had loved it so much, she’d displayed it in the library with other artwork by students.
I hadn’t seen Leigh’s masterpiece yet. The school had planned an art festival for early September, but with Leigh gone, I wasn’t sure if they’d gone through with it.
The halls were dripping in banners that were plastered above lockers, touting the slogan “Go Timberwolves.” Memories of my time playing football for the school bombarded me as I strolled down memory lane.
As I approached the library, a memory of Ellie flashed before me. I would never forget that day she’d walked out of the library, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder as we’d locked eyes. I had lost my breath when she’d smiled at me.
But as I grabbed the long handle of the door, my chest constricted, and not because of the memory but because of the apprehension of seeing Leigh’s painting.
Maybe Aunt Kari should’ve joined me, at least to hold my darn hand.
Footsteps resounded down the hall before I could go inside.
“Ryker, is that you?” Principal Holland asked as he walked up. The middle-aged man hadn’t changed. He still had a thick crop of dirty-blond hair, which was glued back with gel. He looked sharp in his blue suit, pink shirt, and green tie. The years had been kind to his skin. He only had a few wrinkles around his light-brown eyes.
The principal extended his hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I gave him a handshake. “Thank you. I was checking on the art festival. Did the school ever have it?”
“We postponed it. Let’s go inside.”
The familiar scent of books wafted around as Ms. Gross looked up from her computer at the main desk. She rose from her chair and ambled toward me. “Ryker James.” She gently placed her hand over her heart. “My sincere condolences.” Then she gave me a quick hug.
I swallowed thickly.One of the reasons I’d shunned the world was because I couldn’t handle seeing sorrow and despair on people’s faces.
The graying-haired librarian hooked her arm in mine. “I’m guessing you want to see Leigh’s painting.” She guided me down the middle aisle. Shelves of books stood on our left, and an open area on our right displayed several pieces of artwork that were either exhibited on the table or on easels that stood on the floor.
Ms. Gross let go of my arm and joined Mr. Holland, who gave me some space. My eyes drifted from a colorful geometric painting that was on the table to a sixteen by twenty canvas that sat on one of the easels beside the table.
My jaw came unhinged. I inched closer to the canvas as my chest constricted more. Leigh had painted me. I’d always known she was talented. I knew she had wanted to study art in college, and I had seen some of her drawings, but this one was fucking amazing. The detail was incredible in how she’d drawn my nose, lips, gray eyes, black hair, and even that cocky smile she’d said I wore all the time coming off the football field.
Hot tears burned my eyes and grew hotter the more I stared at her masterpiece.
“It’s beautiful,” Ms. Gross said softly behind me. “She loved you, you know. She was so excited for the art festival.”
I wanted to punch something. I wanted to turn back time and make things different. I should’ve been on that plane with them. If I had been, I wouldn’t be feeling like I was dying a slow death.
Without turning around, I asked, “Are you still having the art festival?”
“We are, but we haven’t come up with a date yet,” Mr. Holland said. “We’ll definitely let you know.”
I wouldn’t miss it for anything.
