Chương 22: Drawn Together

"Wow! This is pretty good!" Trisha inspected the page with raised eyebrows, bringing it closer to really take in the details. A pencil sketch of herself smiled back with a slightly upturned nose and a confident smile.

"It's not that good," Olivia demurred.

"I think I could have done better with the eyes. And I didn't quite get your cheekbones right, either. They're just a little higher. And the shading is mostly good, but near the neck…" Trisha waved her off with one pale hand.

"Oh, don't be so humble. Learn to take a compliment!" Olivia smiled sheepishly. Good advice, honestly. I wish I could follow it. But that'll have to wait another decade or so. The picture had taken a little longer than anticipated. As it turned out, using her family as subjects left her without a lot of experience in some pretty crucial areas. Namely, long hair and female proportions in general. Even if Hazel was a girl, she was only a few months old. She didn't count.

Needless to say she had quite a few reservations about the final product. But for a first try? It wasn't bad at all. Trisha set the drawing back down on Olivia's desk.

"Seriously. I knew it would look good, but this… Are you trying to be an artist or something?" Olivia shook her head and stifled a laugh. If becoming a housewife had disappointed her mom, then declaring that she wanted to be an artist? It may well send her into convulsions.

"Not at all. Just a hobby."

"Uh-huh. Just a hobby…" The cheerleader mused, eyeing the picture again.

"You do realize you could sell these, right?"

"Probably. But I don't really want to." Trisha shrugged.

"Whatever. Your loss. If you ever change your mind, though, I know a lot of people that would totally pay for this kind of thing. Especially with homecoming around the corner. Draw girls in their dresses or couples—ooh, maybe on parchment or something more medieval looking—and stick them in nice frames? Maybe add the option for some backgrounds? Girl, they'd be eating out of your hand!" The cheerleader's gaze went distant.

Olivia could practically hear the sound of coins clinking in her head as she planned out all of the details for this theoretical business. At least she wasn't treating Olivia's own participation as a given. But it was still fascinating to see. Some high schoolers really are that entrepreneurial, huh? Though I wonder if she ever has run a business before. Everything always seems so promising when it's an idea. Actually making it happen is the hard part.

"I'll let you know." Olivia butted in before Trisha could get too deep into her own imagined future.

"I'm glad you like the picture, though. I learned a lot making it." The blonde snapped back to the present and beamed.

"Great! Well, if you want even more practice outside your comfort zone, you let me know. Offer's definitely still open. Thanks again!" Trisha took the picture and stowed it away in her binder before leaving Olivia's desk behind. The blonde rejoined a group of other popular girl types and began chatting away, taking full advantage of their teacher's lack of interest to indulge in a few donuts that one girl had brought. How any of the rail thin girls got away with eating so much sugar was a small mystery in itself.

High schooler metabolism must've been working overtime. … That's it? Really? Olivia half expected for the cheerleader to show the picture off or request something else as a follow-up. But no such thing happened. It really seemed like that had been the extent of Trisha's interest in her. To her surprise she felt… a little disappointed. Relieved of course, since that meant one less deviation to worry about. But she'd honestly been a little bit curious about Trisha's situation.

Even if it wouldn't come to a head for another year at least, surely there was at least a little bit to be gleaned from talking to the girl. Especially considering that she'd seemed nice enough so far. Guess I'll just have to keep an ear out for rumors. Though with how reliable those tend to be, I might just end up with a dozen different stories and even fewer answers. It couldn't be helped. She was trying to walk a thin tightrope here, and seeking out Trisha would be akin to stepping right off the edge.

Though maybe this interaction hadn't been a deviation at all. Her own memory wasn't perfect. Maybe there had been a similar one-off interaction with the cheerleader last time around, long enough ago and insignificant enough that it hadn't carved out a permanent niche in her mind. Feeling more reassured by the moment, Olivia returned her attention to the fresh page in front of her. Now that she'd had a bit more practice, maybe she'd be able to nail Cash's hair a bit better. And Jason's beard.

His scruffy brown curls weren't anywhere close to the cheerleader's golden ringlets, but some of the underlying principles were similar. Formulating a picture in her mind, Olivia began sketching out the image. Jason standing with Hazel in his burly arms, with George perched atop his shoulders and Cash clinging to his legs below. Their smiles were so vivid she could practically touch them. Her pencil paused in the middle of her sketch. She quickly rubbed at her eyes before continuing on. Right. Back to normal.

The ground rumbled. The buildings shook, constructions of brick and stone wobbling dangerously as though made of little more than flimsy plastic. People flooded into the streets in terror, only for their attention to be yanked upward at the screeching of metal. There, far overhead, a plane hurtled toward the ground. Its tail streamed with flame and black smoke that cut across the sky like an angry scar. Olivia tensed in her seat, eyes glued to the screen across the room.

Another forkful of sausage found her mouth, a few pieces of mac and cheese clinging desperately to its sides. She heard the soft clink of her dad's fork against ceramic beside her. Even as they watched, the fuselage began to break apart dramatically and— The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. —The door to the garage burst open.

"I'm hooome!" Her mom's singsong voice echoed down the hall, following right on the heels of the door's concussive slam. They both jolted as though waking from a trance. Her dad straightened and tore his gaze from the screen to glance over his shoulder.

"Seems like your mom's home early today. Should we watch the rest tomorrow?" Olivia smiled.

"Sure. Unless she wants to watch it with us?" Her dad chuckled.

"I don't know if it'll make much sense, starting halfway in like this. Heck, I've watched the other seasons and I still don't understand half of what's going on." They shared a laugh at that. Though Olivia couldn't help but agree. Even knowing how the show ended and all of the big revelations that were yet to come, the show could still be pretty difficult to parse. In fact, on a rewatch, she felt all but certain that the writers hadn't entirely thought through the ending to come by this point.

There were just a few too many inconsistencies and questions still left unanswered. I still think it was a pretty good one though. And the show itself holds up nicely. Her dad smiled apologetically and reached for the remote. The picture of a horrified woman's face froze on screen just as Mrs. Miller swept around the corner like a hurricane touching down.

"Hello, hello! Oh, I see you two got an early start on dinner! Well, don't wait on my account. I'll be right back!" The woman disappeared into the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Moments later, Olivia heard the fridge door open and the microwave beep a few times. It hummed to life before Mrs. Miller poked her head around the corner again.

"So! How was school, sweetie?"

"Pretty good," Olivia replied.

"I had my first math quiz today."

"Exciting! I'm sure that you aced it. Why, I'd be surprised if you missed a single one!" Olivia's smile faltered slightly before she recovered.

"Yeah. I think it went well, too." She agreed with her mom's assessment, of course. But there was a time where such a comment would have felt stifling. Even now, she could almost feel the weight of fresh expectations as it was levered onto her back. It wasn't the woman's intention, she was sure. It was meant as a vote of confidence. But to someone insecure, that "surprise" at a wrong answer sounded a lot like disappointment. That's not what she means. I know it's not. Still… Oof. Mrs.

Miller brought her warmed tupperware to the table. The neon yellow pasta was accompanied by a small plate of sausages that Olivia had left in the fridge from the day before. The woman diced them up with deft movements and added them to the pasta.

"What else? Any other tests or projects? How is band going?"

"Good!" Olivia assured her as she discreetly scraped the mac and cheese off another bite of sausage.

"No other tests yet, and band is going really well. We got the first movement of our show on Tuesday, and…" She caught her mom up on the week's happenings. Most of it had progressed just as uneventfully as she'd hoped, though she didn't voice the thought. Instead she tried to highlight the few moments that stood out amidst the singular blur of class, practice, and boredom. She might have felt put off by the monotony, but this was exactly what she wanted. Right?

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Her dad gave her a meaningful look as she finished.

"What about your plans for this weekend?"

"Oh! Right." Olivia nodded.

"I'm going dress shopping tomorrow." Her mom's fork froze halfway to her mouth. A large blob of sausage and mac slid off it as she stared agape at Olivia.

"Dress shopping?!" She nodded, hiding her amusement.

"Yup. Homecoming's coming up, and the flutes are dragging me along, so…" Mrs. Miller looked as though a beautifully wrapped gift had just been dumped in her lap. Or an absolutely pristine set of clinical trial data.

"This… Well, of course we'll find you a dress! Oh, I know just the spot. Do you have any ideas for what style you'd prefer? Or color? I think that cooler colors would work best with your complexion. Or perhaps we can get something custom—" Olivia held up her hands in an attempt to ward off her mom's enthusiasm before things went too far.

"I… don't know about that. It'll depend on whether I find something when I go shopping with the flutes." She emphasized the last few words to let her mom down as gently as she could. The woman blinked.

"Oh! Yes. Of course! That makes perfect sense." Her grin had flickered for only an instant before she caught herself. But the change in tone made it abundantly clear. Olivia's mom was disappointed. Not in her, but in the fact that she wouldn't be the one taking her daughter shopping. Olivia's thoughts drifted to the closet upstairs and all of the untouched clothing within. Yeah. This is the kind of thing she's been dreaming about for ages…

"Well, I'm certain you'll have all sorts of fun!" Mrs. Miller brightened once more.

"And if you do need any help or advice or, well, anything really, you let me know, sweetie. All right?"

"Right." Olivia gave her mom an apologetic smile. It was a nice gesture. Even if Olivia wouldn't take her up on the offer—or rather, she couldn't. Even if she kind of wanted to.

"I'm just glad that you'll have a chance to hang out with your friends," her dad steered the conversation toward safer waters.

"Right! Friends are important, sweetie. Even in the professional world. Why, that's what networking's all about! You never know, one of your classmates may well end up as the next juggernaut in the business world!" Her dad's smile wavered.

"Chandra…"

"It's true! Why, there was this girl I knew in high school—wonderfully nice girl, knew the name of just about everyone in town, though never the most standout in her studies—I ran into her a few years ago years later, and she was running the entire western branch of Mariner Scientific's sales division! I couldn't believe it! Anyway, I invited her out to coffee, and…"

Olivia's mom continued spinning the tale of how she managed to procure some steep discounts for her own company while simultaneously reconnecting with an old friend. Though she wondered if the term "friend" was an accurate one. Her mom's approach to socializing really did tend toward networking. The way she described it at least. It's not nearly as sociopathic as it sounds. It's really just a framework she uses to rationalize it to herself.

She likes people, but her hyperfixation on work doesn't allow her to admit that without somehow tying it into a practical advantage. That's how she justifies dedicating mental space to remembering a barista's birthday, the names of a produce vendor's kids, and a hundred other things that almost certainly won't net her some business advantage twenty years down the line. For all of her mom's failings, she wasn't one for manipulation.

If she needed to get her way, it would be through bulldozing a path through, not subtle weaving and plotting. … No wonder she was popular in high school. She might've been like a mix between Melissa's overwhelming friendliness and Trisha's confidence, maybe. Olivia continued to listen and eat as her mom gesticulated emphatically. Her dad did much the same, only trying to get in a word edgewise when the woman began to wind down.

They eventually changed topics to the usual mundane things, idle conversation and retellings of recent events that her mom had been all but absent for. Soon enough, Olivia finished her food and headed to bed. She flopped onto the mattress with a sigh, unwinding from the stress of the week. Even if it wasn't quite done yet. Practice tomorrow. Then, afterwards… It's time to go shopping.