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Authors: Rita Branches

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Painting Sky (4 page)

BOOK: Painting Sky
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T
he next day, the house was almost as it had been the day I arrived, and I felt anger boiling inside me. I had asked them to respect me, but what I wanted and what I’d gotten were two very different things. I had to clean the kitchen counter just so I could look at something clean while I ate my cereal. I gave up when I realized I couldn’t avoid the smell of alcohol, so I went to the garden to sit on the back porch.

I could work on the garden today, after convincing my brother and Cody to clean up the house. I didn’t even bother thinking about Keith: he would be pleased to just cross his arms and smirk at me. I was getting angrier by the second. It was noon and no one else had woken up, yet.

I picked up Cody’s car keys and left a note in the kitchen: the first place they would go the minute they woke up.

“Went to town. Clean up the house, please. Jane.”

I got lost a couple of times before arriving at the supermarket. I bought some groceries, which didn’t include frozen meals or drinks—the fridge was still full of those. After that, I wandered around town, trying to find the best places to buy new clothes, of which I was in need.

I ended up not getting much of anything. My parents had given me some money for school supplies and rent for the first couple of months, which I was supposed to give to Keith.

I didn’t understand why I had to pay Keith and not Cody, the house had been inherited, supposedly, by the both of them, but I never asked. Maybe it was because Keith had stayed here with his grandfather for almost a year before he passed away three years ago.

I had finished my shopping spree when a beautiful green dress in a shop window caught my eye. It was very simple, strapless, with no embellishments, and it came down to the knee. The price was a little over what I had planned on spending, but the dress would be perfect for my eighteenth birthday, which was in a month.

When I arrived home, the house was still a mess. I refused to clean and they didn’t bother to do so. The next day, I cleaned the kitchen, because it was starting to get impossible to eat there. I was actually glad that my classes would be starting, because I would have gone crazy if I stayed in this house all day.

Cody took me to my first class on Monday morning. Before I entered the room, he gave me a sweet kiss that left me lighter and more prepared to face my first day of college.

My first class was Representational Drawing and Painting. This was one of the most important classes I would be taking and it upset me that almost all stools were taken. I hated to draw on easels, but I guess I had to get used to it.

I sat in the only stool available, by the window. It was farthest away from the professor’s desk and I hoped she wouldn’t assume I had sat there because I was lazy.

The professor introduced herself and explained that we would be painting human form throughout the semester. “We will start with simple objects, so I can see the extent of your… talent. Today, we’ll start with this.” She pulled some boxes from a closet and placed them on the table in front of us and I almost laughed. A college professor wanted us to draw boxes? She then threw a cloth over them. Okay, this would be more difficult.

The rest of the class went by quickly. I kept correcting my drawing and I didn’t get it right until the end of the class.

Professor Collins stopped next to me and I waited for her to speak. She just shook her head and made a disapproving clicking with her tongue. I blushed bright red when two of the closest students looked at me and leaned back to peek at my drawing. It wasn’t that bad, was it? The texture of the cloth was quite right and the color was fairly accurate. I didn’t understand why she was so displeased.

I packed my things, still dumbfounded, and headed to the door, when a second clicking froze me midway.

“What’s your name?” Professor Collins asked without looking up.

I swallowed before answering, “Jane. Jane Keaton.” I fidgeted with the straps of my backpack and waited for another question. She never glanced up. After a few seconds, I coughed and she looked up, seeming surprised.

“Do you need something, Miss Keaton?” It was as if I had been the one who had come to her.

“Did you need anything else, Professor?”

“No, I just wanted to know your name.” She went back to her papers, so I left. She was a strange woman. I knew she wanted to know my name for the wrong reasons.

I arrived home, tired, due to the distance from the bus stop and the house. I had never discussed my transportation with Cody or Ryan. It would be really annoying to have to rely on them to drive me around.

The house was messy, of course. I let myself fall on the gray couch and closed my eyes for a couple of minutes. My first day hadn’t been what I was expecting, but hopefully tomorrow would be different. I was, actually, looking forward to a couple of the classes I had, but the one I struggled with the most—and the one that I had needed to be good—had been an utter disaster.

T
hat night at dinner, Cody finally remembered that this had been my first day of college and asked me how my classes had gone.

“Fine.” I shrugged, not wanting to voice my uncertainty. I think I did a poor job at it, but neither Cody, nor Ryan said anything. They started talking about the football game that would start on TV in a few minutes. Both of them looked at me apologetically, so I sighed and nodded. They shot out of their seats and ran to the living room to get the best place on the couch—as if it wasn’t big enough for the four of us.

I got up, tired both physically and emotionally from this first day, and started gathering the plates when I realized Keith hadn’t gotten up with the other two. I raised an eyebrow at him when he picked up his own plate.

“I’m not as much of a pig as you want to believe, Sky.” He brushed my arm as he went into the kitchen ahead of me.

“I don’t think you’re a pig—just rude.” A smirk plastered onto his face and I almost smiled.

“‘Rude,’” he rolled the word on his tongue. “Why are you so polite and polished? You can cuss at me. I’m not going to tell Daddy.” He rinsed his plate and glass and reached for the ones I was holding.

“I just don’t feel like cussing. Why can’t you accept that?” I would have liked to throw some ugly words at him every now and then, though.

“It just pisses me off that you seem to control yourself for the benefit of the people around you. You don’t even yell at me and I must piss you off often.” He looked over his shoulder to where I was standing with my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t believe he was being real with me, even if it was just to see how I was going to react.

He set the rinsed dishes on the counter and dried his hands on the towel before turning to me. I was coming up with an answer when he spoke again.

“How was your day?”

I was puzzled. Was this a trick question? Was it meant to set me off? “I already answered Cody that it was fine.” He threw the towel on the kitchen island beside me, making me flinch.

“Don’t say ‘fine.’ I know that’s bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

My frown couldn’t get deeper. He was kind of mad, but reasons opposite of usual. He had caught my fake reassurance in the dining room. Keith barely knew me, but, beyond all reason, he’d understood me better than my own brother and boyfriend.

I didn’t know what to say; I certainly wasn’t going to confide with him. He was Keith and I would never forget the hell he, along with my brother, had put me through in school.

He sighed. “I know we aren’t friends. I don’t want that, either.” His smirk came on, full-force. “But I want to know if something bothered you—you know, for our brothers’ sake, who are too busy to notice when something is wrong with you.” He nodded at the closed kitchen door and I looked back, still puzzled, and heard the boys cheering for their team.

“It’s just the novelty of all of this.” I stared at the floor between us, feeling childish with my confession. “I’m really fine. It’s just… different.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He nodded and went into the living room to join our brothers.

It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes left the TV when I walked behind the couch to go to my room. If Keith hated me, why was he being nosy about my life? The only answer I could come up with was that he thought I was going to break and run to my parents. He was just waiting to gloat and have his house Jane-free—no, Sky-free.

BOOK: Painting Sky
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