I Wish You All the Best(35)

“Trained for seven years to be an expert tape ripper. Glad the classes paid off.”

That makes her laugh, and we move farther down the hall, making sure we don’t hang the same style of poster as the last one.

“So, are you going to the dance?” Meleika asks, pinning up another poster.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“What? Why not?”

“Dances aren’t really my thing.” I start ripping more pieces of tape, letting them hang ready on the ends of my fingers.

“There’s a game too.”

“Sports and dances aren’t really my thing.”

Meleika chuckles, brushing her hair out of her face. Over the weekend, she got rid of the braids and came back to school with huge, long curls. “I don’t really blame you, honestly. I wouldn’t go unless I had to.”

“You have to?”

“Everyone from student council has to show up to all our events, or else we don’t get the credit hours.”

“That sucks.”

“You’re telling me! I’m missing my shows to watch some beefcakes knock around balls with a big stick?” Then she stops. “I suppose the baseball butts aren’t so bad though.”

I keep my mouth shut, but I definitely wouldn’t argue with her.

“Meleika?” An all-too-familiar voice echoes down the hallway. Nathan, of course. “And Ben!” He smiles when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s busy.” Meleika gets another poster ready.

“Thomas had to stay after, for some meeting,” I say.

“Oh.” Nathan’s smile drops. “So why are you helping Mel?” he asks.

“’Cause he’s a decent human being who helps when asked, unlike you.” Meleika takes a piece of tape from my fingers and tapes a flyer to Nathan’s forehead.

“I had to help paint set pieces!” Nathan protests, ripping the paper off his face. Apparently, he underestimated the strength of the tape because next thing we know, he’s doubled over hissing and rubbing that spot on his forehead. “You try telling Stephanie no!” he says through gritted teeth.

“Whatever.” Meleika crosses her arms. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re painting, remember?”

“Mr. Madison said you had the spare key to the art room. Mrs. Liu was supposed to get us more paint, but I think it’s locked in her room.”

Meleika stares at him. “I don’t have a key.”

“You’re joking.”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“But we need the paint, and no one else has a key.” Nathan rubs the back of his neck. “Stephanie’s going to go nuclear.”

“This Stephanie sounds like a piece of work,” I add.

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t demanded we call her Your Highness yet,” says Nathan.

“Just go get the key from Mrs. Liu.” Meleika holds up another poster, and I tape the corners down.

“They’re in the auditorium, and the door’s locked.” Nathan drags his hands over his face.

Meleika’s groans echo through the hallway. “What are we supposed to do, then? We aren’t going to have any other time this week to get it done.”

“I have a key,” I say.

They both just look at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Why do you have a key?” Nathan asks.

“Mrs. Liu gave it to me so I could use the art room during lunch.”

“Great.” Meleika looks at Nathan. “Get the key from Ben and get the paint.”

“I mean, sure.” I reach for the ring of keys in my backpack. “But I’m going with you.”

“Awesome.”

“Oh, you are not ditching me!” Meleika stares at me, her mouth hanging open. “Ben!”

“I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Don’t trust me?” Nathan’s already got my arm, leading me down the hallway.

“I’m not risking anything.” I doubt Mrs. Liu would be angry with me, I mean, it’s just Nathan. But you never know, and I don’t want to risk losing this privilege.

We run to the art building, double-checking each of the doors. Sure enough, all three are locked. I peer through the small glass windows, and four huge cans of paint sit right there on the counter.

I unlock the door and walk in ahead of Nathan, snagging the two cans of paint, handing the other two to Nathan. “Come on, I need to finish helping Mel.”

“Which one is yours?” Nathan asks. It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking about the paintings Mrs. Liu’s hung up on the wall.

I want to tell him we don’t have time, which makes me feel bad, because he’s been nothing but supportive of my art, but he’s only seen my drawings before. Never my paintings, at least not in real life.

“That one.” I point to the drip painting. “And that one.” The one of the cardinal is hanging on the other side of the room.

“Oh.” Nathan gasps, walking right over to the drip painting. “Hmm …”

“What?” I ask. For just the briefest second, I wish I could read minds. I mean, that’d open me up to a whole other slew of problems. But right now, I really want to know what Nathan’s thinking.