I found myself smiling but quickly remembered I was an outsider to the interaction this time. The thought hurt more than I wanted it to. I rolled onto my stomach and looked out the window. The desert landscape wasn’t the prettiest—dry,monotonous, and yellow—but there was something about plants and animals being able to survive in such bleak conditions that was intriguing.
***
“You’re good,” Paisley said from over my left shoulder.
I jumped. When I got in a drawing zone, the world around me melted away. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve been sitting here for like five minutes.”
“I didn’t hear you.” I moved from lying on my stomach to sitting up.
“What is it?” She pointed at my sketch pad.
My drawing featured a girl (me) flinging sharp needles at the retreating form of her enemy (Skyler). I hoped Paisley didn’t recognize either figure. I hadn’t added too many details yet. “A video game idea inspired by the desert. She’s using cactus needles on her enemies.”
“I wish I could draw like that,” she said.
“Skyler never taught you?” I said it loud enough for Skyler to hear. I wanted to keep reminding him that I actually knew things about him, that we werefriends,and thathewas making this awkward, not me.
“Skyler?” she said, confused. “He doesn’t draw.”
“What?” For the second time that day, Paisley said something that shocked me and I couldn’t help myself. “You don’t draw?” I directed the question at him.Hehad taughtme.
“No, not anymore,” he answered, obviously having been following our conversation.
“Since when?”
He shrugged. “Since we moved.”
He had changed even more than I thought. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I got over it, I guess.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Got over it?”
“Yeah, I grew up, moved on.”
It felt like he was referring to more than just drawing with that statement. “Right,” I said, proud at how steady my voice sounded. “You grew out of it.” My eyes shot down to my drawing, whichdidfeel rather childish at the moment. I gritted my teeth and flipped the page.
“Exactly.”
I told myself to just let it go, but then I heard myself say, “You’ll have to ask all the artists of the world why they don’t just grow up already.”
Paisley laughed. “I don’t believe you used to draw, Skyler.”
“Sometimes,” he said.
“Sometimes? All the time,” I said. “I think I might even have…” I dug through my backpack, searching for the notebook I’d brought before I knew Skyler had turned into a jerk. When we were kids, neither of us had cell phones, so we used to exchange notes back and forth in a notebook and I’d brought it to laugh over with him. Along with notes were silly doodles we’d both drawn, and I turned to one of those now and showed Paisley.
“Skyler drew that?”
I smiled. Holding the notebook made me happy. I glanced over to Skyler and his eyes were locked on the book. Well, frick, if this didn’t make him think I was obsessed with him, I didn’t know what would. “I, uh…found it the other day with some other crap in the back of my closet,” I said in the most casual voice I could muster. It was true. I really hadn’t looked at the notebook in forever.
“You were pretty good, Skyler,” Paisley said. “Apparently you have talent hiding somewhere in you after all.”
I sucked in my lips so I didn’t laugh.
“Are there more?” she asked.