Five

After the back to school party, things between Jamie and me aren't the same. There's a distance, or disconnect, which shouldn't bother me as much as it is.

I know it's because of the incident the morning after the party. I know exactly what it is but can't seem to find the courage to address it and apologize. Now, weeks have passed, and she rarely hangs out with me and my friends, refuses to sit next to me in art class, and to top it all off, she's been hanging out with Jacki way more than usual.

Deep down it kills me but, in the end, I know it's my own fault.

Maybe I am a coward. Maybe, I really am terrified of how people will look at me if I tell them the truth. That Peyton Kelly is, in fact, a lesbian, and has been since she could first remember.

Maybe, I had successfully convinced myself that it's because I had too much at stake to ruin my reputation when really, it's because I'm petrified of change.

And I had hurt someone because of it.

As I walk into school, the early September morning consists of humidity, fog, and gloom since the sun has barely risen. I had arrived a few minutes early to meet with the speech and debate teacher. I let myself into the hall and enter the classroom, greeting Miss Burke with a smile.

"Peyton," she greets "Good morning."

"Morning," I reply, involuntarily remembering the embarrassing game of Truth or Dare because of Jacki's lustful remark about Miss Burke.

"Listen, I'm glad you stopped by, because I want to talk to you about something." Miss Burke leans on her desk. "This year's team..."

"Is gonna be great. I know." I slip my annual registration form onto her desk. "I've already started preparing my first speech..."

"Peyton," she interrupts. "Have a seat."

I sit cautiously when I realize she and I aren't on the same page. Am I in trouble?

"I just want to start off by saying you've been an absolute treasure to the speech team," she compliments. "I remember how fierce of a competitor you were when you were just a freshman..."

For some reason, this feels like a breakup. What the hell is she getting at?

"But our freshmen this year are so promising, and there's one student who I'll have to say no to if I let you participate this year."

At first, her words don't register.

"Wait, what?" I ask.

She repeats herself. Confusion and anger boil in my stomach while white noise fills my head. But I won't lash out. That would look bad.

"You've done phenomenally, and if you decide to do speech in college, I have no doubt in my mind that you'll excel," Miss Burke finishes. "I just think your speech potential has surpassed high school level, and these freshmen need coaching."

A sacrifice. That's what she's asking me for. Three years of busting my ass on this team, taking them to regionals and winning... and this is what I get? Nothing but a half-ass "thank you" and a polite send-off!?

I stand abruptly.

"N-No problem," I stutter as the betrayal pierces my heart. "Good luck this year, Miss Burke."

I catch a glimpse of her guilty expression but storm out before it can make me any angrier. Speech had been one of favorite pastimes! And it looks amazing on résumés! I feel cheated.

As I storm through the hall all I can see is red. I hadn't expected to run into someone, especially since it's still early. And I surely hadn't expected it to be Jamie, of all people.

Our bodies collide. The book she's carrying falls to the floor with a thud. I fumble clumsily into her and feel her soft hands grip on my shoulders. Everything inside of me freezes.

"Shit, s-sorry..." I stammer, attempting to hide the embarrassment on my face.

"It's fine," she answers. Within that moment she realizes she's still holding me. Her hands release me quickly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lie. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because most people look up when they're walking."

I roll my eyes. As much as I appreciate the interaction with Jamie after weeks of being starved, my morning is ruined from Miss Burke. The anger is slowly subsiding, but she's honestly the last person I want to see me like this.

"What are you doing here so early, anyway?" I ask.

Her cheeks turn pink. "I uh... I missed the bus. So, my mom dropped me off on her way to work."

There seems to be a lingering tension, as if both of us have something to say to the other but are too afraid to do so. I know what I want to say and can't help but wonder if there's something on the tip of Jamie's tongue.

"Darian keeps asking me why you don't hang with us for lunch anymore," I blurt. "And Gibbs still needs a ton of girl advice."

Her stone demeanor softens at the comment about our friends, but not much. Her walls are still sky high around me. I don't blame her. She doesn't bother addressing my comments, probably because we both know exactly why she isn't coming around. She just forces a half smile, indicating that we are, in fact, on the same page.

"Jamie, I..."

"I'm gonna head to the library," she interrupts my apology. "I have some things I need to print before class."

I swallow my sentence and give her a stiff nod. She brushes past me without another word, leaving me to soak in shame and the early morning fog. I must've really hurt her, but why do I feel like the one who got the short end of the stick? Everything inside of me aches simply because Jamie is icing me out.

Suddenly, I fear the damage between us is now beyond repair.

• • •

The day passes slowly, and my classes seem to drag on for hours. Everything is monotonous. The teachers, the subjects, my friends... I find myself eager to make it to fourth period just so I can distract myself with art.

By art block I find myself crawling to class and no longer expect to see Jamie sitting in the seat next to mine. Every day since the party, I had walked into class with a small sliver of hope that she would change her mind. But, as expected, she'd be across the room, alone and by herself. When I walk into the classroom, today is no different.

I try to ignore the burning in my chest as I make my way to my seat. I should just apologize. Apologize for assuming she would lie and tell people we slept together, and apologize for icing her out around my friends, apologize for acting like something I'm not...

Ok, no, the last one still scares the hell out of me.

Class begins and Mr. Z starts his lecture with some art history while I sneak glances at Jamie and try not to get caught doodling in my notebook. We're slowly making the transition from sketching to painting, and I'm way too excited about it.

Which reminds me...

Today is the cut-off date to enter the mural competition.

I hadn't given it much thought because I didn't think I would have time to do it, which had been true up until Miss Burke had kicked me off the speech team. Now, my schedule had opened significantly, but do I really want to do this?

The conversation Jamie and I had the night of Gibbs' party resurfaces. Jamie had nearly convinced me to enter right then and there...

The ringing of the bell pulls me out of my thoughts. I shut my notebook and shove it into my backpack. My eyes watch Jamie leave without looking back. She always makes it a point to beat me out of the door.

I stand and make my way to Mr. Z's desk and hope that when I mention the mural competition, my brain will finally decide if doing this is a good idea.

"Peyton," he greets me "You were quiet today. Is everything alright?"

I just nod. "Yeah, I just... I was thinking about the competition."

He raises a brow. "You know the entry deadline is today..."

He still seems so hopeful. Why is everyone so sure that I will do great? Don't get me wrong, I consider myself an exceptional artist, but murals are different. They're big, and make statements, and are sometimes even a bit controversial. Could I really pull this off?

"Do you have a back-up?" I ask.

"A what?"

"A back-up. A second choice."

He shakes his head. "No."

Great. So, if I say no, that means Branton High is automatically out of the running and has absolutely no chance at winning the prize money. Why hadn't he asked someone else? Does he believe in his decision that much?

"Peyton," Mr. Z starts. "You're a magnificent artist. Do you know that?"

There are only a handful of people who know my love for art. My parents, my sister Alyssa, Gwen, and Mr. Z, and out of those five people, Mr. Z is the only one who ever compliments me in ways that resonate. He critiques me, he educates me, and never embarrasses me if I make a mistake. Instead, he teaches me to be a better artist. I look to him as a mentor instead of a teacher.

So, when he compliments me, it's always more than that. It's affirmation. It's confidence. It's a push whenever I really needed it.

"I don't know the first thing about creating a mural," I confess.

"Then we'll work on that," he promises. "But your mind works in ways most others don't. That's talent. And I really think you won't walk away empty handed."

He's right. I can do this because I'm not alone. If I need help, I can always come to him. Besides, it's not like he wouldn't be overseeing the progress.

"Okay." I agree. "I'll do it."

"You will?"

I just nod nervously.

He smiles. "You can start as soon as possible, but I would brainstorm for a few weeks. Come up with a brilliant idea. Draw it out. Color it in. Really put some thought into it. And then, when you're confident, start painting."

I sigh heavily, aware this is going to be a challenge on all fronts.

"I believe in you, Peyton," Mr. Z says.

I smile hard and attempt to contain my excitement and fear. Nervous isn't a strong enough term to describe how I feel right now, but I settle for it anyway.

"Thanks," I say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Then I turn to leave.

So, I'm doing this. For real. Mr. Z will let whoever is overseeing the competition's candidates know Branton High now has a champion. I feel adrenaline burn through my veins at the thought. What if I do win?

I'm no longer in a crappy mood from this morning and decide to find my friends. If they aren't hanging out at the prep tree, then they're most likely inside the cafeteria. My hands push the doors open with excitement.

But when I spot Jamie laughing with Darian and Gibbs at a nearby table, a part of me tells my legs to stop. They look like they're having a good time. Even Gwen. I know my friends like Jamie. That's a given. And she's been avoiding them for my sake. Or for hers. I'm not sure.

If I join them, I'll just ruin it. Negative tension will surround the table, and everyone will notice. Then, once Jamie's had enough of it, she'll leave. In hindsight, me joining them is a bad idea.

So, instead, I turn right back around and head for the parking lot.