Chapter Text
It’s interesting how the world works. Some people are born in thousand-dollar birthing suites, wrapped in silk sheets, and fed through biodegradable utensils and metal straws, the silver spoons of our era. Others are plopped down in the middle of a shit hole and told to stay there for the rest of their lives, fuck progression. Where social hierarchy and systems of oppression let them down, the government picked back up with their shiny new initiatives to ‘end world hunger’ and ‘bridge the gap between rich and poor’ but hey, you can’t really complain when you’re the ‘poor’ right? These ones came out of the womb screaming instead of crying for joy.
To be fair, Ellie Chu didn’t quite start out in either of those categories, but somehow ended up in the latter anyways. Call it what you will, but she’s long since given up on fate. After all, can you really expect her to believe that it was someone’s fate to be starving in the streets at that young age? That it was someone’s destiny to die from a gunshot wound in one of those obscured alleyways, tucked so far into the dark side of the city that no one even noticed?
Fuck that. Ellie Chu learned from a young age that she couldn’t count on anyone but herself. It’s a fight or die world out there and somehow, she feared the uncertainty of death far more than she did a shitty life.
She taught herself how to argue, get away with things, and pretend to be innocent. When to act stupid, or perhaps more importantly, the advantages of remaining underestimated. She learned how to duck into crowds and jump high enough to clamber up low-hanging escape ladders on the side of buildings, out of reach. And those weren’t lessons she learned from some youth program she was forced to attend, or from those therapy sessions that were supposed to teach her how to behave.
It wasn’t from the government mandated public education for all orphans, either, that she first tasted the power of knowledge; it was from those books she stole off her dead best friend’s body after his drunkard father went way too far. That left her pretty scarred afterwards, if she’s being honest. She remembers how hard it was to breathe alone in her room that night, hugging those books tight, as if they held the answers as to why he was gone. He would have never wanted them to go back to his father. That’s why Ellie took one look at his crumpled body, grabbed as many as she could, and ran.
And it certainly wasn’t from the goddamn joke of a foster care system that she learned what it was like to love. The thought makes her laugh. No matter how many homes she was transferred to and “parents” that she met, she could never see past the pitying looks. How could they ever expect her to replace her real parents with people that didn’t understand her? Ones that expected her to forget or to “be normal” when her whole life she’s been living the “abnormal”? No, it wasn’t the scathing remarks from her orphanage director nor the bumbling excuses of families turning her away after they realized she was “unfixable” that taught her love. Yet it was one of the few things she didn’t learn on her own either.
She learned to love from a girl named Aster Flores.
Ellie still remembers the first time she saw her. How their eyes met across the crowded marketplace for just a brief second before she slipped away into the shadows. Even if Ellie hadn’t been already trailing them in the first place, she could not have missed Aster Flores walking down the run-down, ugly street of Central City unless she was blind.
She stuck out like a sore thumb. Against the grays and dark browns of the vendor stations and the scraggly citizens pushing and shoving to get through the crowd, Aster Flores was a splash of color. She wore a simple, teal dress, revealing and flowy in the warm summer breeze. There was a bright red purse clutched under her arm and a wide-brimmed, white sunhat sat on her curls, obscuring some of her face if she tilted a certain way. The mystery and secrecy that the hat brought was alluring, and Ellie caught more than one person looking her way. As she walked, her brown hair swayed in the wind and Ellie had watched mesmerized as she threw her head back at something her companion, a dark burly man, whispered into her ear. Yet, perhaps the most striking difference between Aster and the crowd, Ellie thought, was her posture. She carried herself with grace and a carefree nature that only money could bring, and lots of it.
Exactly how Ellie ended up in the presence of Aster Flores, with her wrist caught wrapped tightly between her fingers, she’s not exactly sure. And that was a fact she would later look back on frequently with annoyance. She had zoned in on her target, the burly companion, long ago when, in exchange for a simple pair of earrings (undoubtedly for Aster), he whipped out more than enough cash to buy the entire stand. Ellie set to trailing him easily. His carefree gait and oblivious nature made for such an easy target that Ellie had almost felt bored when she kicked a broken can towards his feet and, taking advantage of how he jumped away and yelped as a splatter of mud landed on his white pant leg, slipped her hand into his pocket and took everything she could hold—earrings, cash, and all.
She tucked the contents swiftly into the band of her underwear, having already learned how obvious it is to walk around with bulging pockets, and was triumphantly turning to disappear into the next alleyway when a hand closed around her wrist, pulling her back with surprising force.
“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to steal?” Says a disapproving voice. And Ellie spins around to come face to face with the girl she had been following.
Up close, her eyes are impossibly brighter, and they’re close enough for Ellie to smell the sweet perfume wafting from her body.
“I’ve been watching you.” Aster continues, steely and cold. “Return what you stole or else I’m going to have to call the police.”
Ellie just gaps at her wordlessly. She can't decide if she’s more shocked at her blatant threat or the fact that she hadn’t even noticed that she had been watched. Aster’s fingers dig painfully into her wrist, but Ellie can only stare at her flawless skin, the flush on her face from the summer heat, and the pretty pink of her lips. Ellie feels warm all over and she licks her lips unconsciously, swallowing hard. Suddenly, it’s hard to think, and Ellie’s never really had this problem before. In any other situation she would have been long gone by now- ducking into a dirty alleyway or disappearing among the rows and rows of tents in the market, but for some reason her feet are rooted to the ground. She can only stare back at the girl who is looking at her with an expression that is growing more and more confused with the passing seconds.
It’s only when the commotion from behind Aster from the burly man yelling at who she presumes he thought was at fault for his stained pants does she jolt into action, twisting her wrist out from Aster’s grasp and setting off full speed down the street. Her feet thud rapidly against the cracked pavement almost to the same beat of her heart racing in her chest. When she reaches the alleyway she’s about to turn into, Ellie chances a glance behind her and sees the small figure of Aster standing with her hands crossed in front of her staring after her with an unreadable expression on her face.
Ellie turns back around and pushes her feet to go faster, Aster’s threat echoing in the back of her mind. Fuck fuck fuck. She had been lucky enough to avoid a direct run-in with the police since now, despite the life of crime that she had lived. If Aster did follow through and call the police on her though, she was sure she would be taken in. They’re kind of hard to outrun forever. Ellie squeezes her eyes shut and blocks that image out of her mind as she makes her way back to the group home.
And somehow, there are no blaring sirens or tall men in uniforms chasing after her. The setting sun paints the sky pink and purple with a dash of orange, and the city is abnormally quiet. Later that night, in the privacy of her own room, she finally dares to pull out her prize. She places the pair of earrings gently on her nightstand and leafs through each bill three times in disbelief.
With shaky fingers, she counts six-hundred dollars.
//
Summer ends and school starts again. Ellie almost forgets entirely about her strange encounter with ‘the girl with the teal dress’ in her efforts to survive senior year. It isn’t even the work that has her worried (because if she’s being honest, it’s not even challenging her at this point), but rather the bullshit she has to put up with from the rest of her classmates.
“Hey Chuga Chuga Chu Chu!” A boy laughs obnoxiously. “Will you come blow on my horn?”
His friends howl with laughter and Ellie pulls her hood down lower over her face. They’re getting to That Age where sex is becoming a thing and innuendos are flying, but somehow no one is using them appropriately. Then again, they don’t have to in order to get a laugh. Anything that is related to sex is funny to everyone except Ellie it seems.
She pushes past the group still cackling to themselves and makes her way past the field to the bus stop.
“Ellie! Wait up!”
She turns her head and slings her other backpack strap over her shoulder. Paul is jogging up the incline towards her with a ridiculous smile plastered on his face. Ellie turns back around and doesn’t even slow her gait. He’ll catch up to her anyways.
“Hey,” Paul says breathlessly, twisting in front of her so that he can face her while talking. He’s walking backwards, an act that he’s not especially talented at, and stumbles from time to time on uneven ground. “I heard you got top score again in science.”
Ellie grunts and rolls her eyes. “Another rumor, Paul Munsky.”
Paul is her best friend and only friend. They’re in the foster care system together and live at the same group home, so Paul understands her in a way that most don’t and never will. Even though Ellie was fully intent on getting out of the system and even the entire city by herself, Paul’s kicked puppy look after being repeatedly turned down coupled with his undiminishing persistence on becoming her friend gradually wore her down. What began as a tentative alliance through gaming the bus system together became a lasting, albeit dysfunctional, friendship. Besides, living in a group home can be kind of lonely if you don’t have someone to talk to. And Paul has gradually become one that she can trust wholeheartedly.
“Aw come on, don’t be like that. I don’t get why you have to pretend like you don’t get perfect grades every year, Ellie. I mean I’ve seen your report card. Those grades could get you into college!”
Ellie cringes and for not the first time regrets forgetting to stash away her papers before heading to dinner. She had returned to find Paul already in her room to hang out before curfew, gawking at her report card like it was a chest of gold.
“I’m not going to college.” They’ve reached the bus stop just as the bus is turning in.
Paul frowns immediately. “Why not? You’re crazy smart! If any of us could do it, it would be you.”
Any of us meaning the group home kids she would assume. Ellie sighs, heading straight for the back of the bus where she could observe everyone without being seen. Paul plops down beside her.
“All I’m saying,” he continues, resting an arm on the seatback in front of them and leaning closer to her conspiratorially, “is you could get a scholarship with those grades. And with an education you could really go places. You could make it out of here!”
“Paul,” Ellie cuts off as she slumps back into the uncomfortable bus seat, “Drop it, will you? It’s not an option for me.”
“Not an option!” Paul splutters. “With those grades, you could get into just about any state school you wanted to. How could you possibly say that?”
Ellie pushes up from her seat in one fluid motion, her hood falling from her head, and presses into Paul’s space. He automatically shifts back a little with a gulp.
“You really wanna know? Okay. Let me break it down for you. Let’s say I actually do get into somewhere with a decent program in philosophy and law. How would I get there? With what money, Paul?”
Paul sucks in his bottom lip and remains silent.
“How would I be able to afford food and a place to stay? Textbooks? What about living essentials? Okay so let’s say somehow I do manage to get all of that money. Like, it just appears out of nowhere or whatever. Can you really see me fitting in with all those rich kids? We’re in a shitty public school in a shitty part of town, but in college, I’m going to be up against people who have years and years of private tutoring and whatever extracurricular experience under their belt while I’m coming in with a fat load of nothing.”
Ellie leans back once again with a sigh of annoyance. Deep down she wishes it was a possibility, but given the reality of her situation and just looking at the stats, she was never going to make it out of this city. She glances over at Paul and squirms at his dejected expression. Damn puppy dog eyes.
With a thwack, she hits the side of his arm, making him jump. “Besides, who would be here to look after you then, you big baby?”
It doesn’t quite change the facts, but it does lighten the mood and Paul is back to grinning at her again. Ellie tilts her lips up ruefully in response.
I appreciate you, Paul. More than I let on and more than you will ever know.
…
They arrive in the courtyard earlier than usual. The bus driver was speedy today out of all days which was unfortunately a lazy Friday with nothing really to do. They amble past the tall fences and into the open doors of their building. It wasn’t much; the brownish-red of the brick building suggested the age and long history behind it. A sign that read “SQUAHAMISH” in all caps hung proudly above the entrance. Besides the fat cross jutting proudly on top of the tower, blindingly white despite Ellie never witnessing a single incident when it was being cleaned, the group home blended into the cityscape surrounding it.
From the main entrance in the center tower five stories in height, two wings extended out and bent to form a square shape, encasing the yard almost entirely. One of the wings was split between a medical center and classrooms for residential treatment facility kids (ones that were classified as having “severe emotional, behavioral, or learning problems”). The other stretched further around and consisted of living spaces, communal for younger kids and individual rooms for those older than 13 years, a dining area, and kitchen connected. The main tower was topped with office spaces for the staff which sat above a church with rows and rows of dustless pews leading up to a single stage area. You could tell where most of the money was being channeled by watching the light filter through its pristine and colorful mosaic windows, and how the piano gleamed a golden tone from extensive polishing.
Their group home was one of the biggest in their area, the Church of Christ’s proudest donation to the city. Ellie scoffs when they announce it every year at their funding social. Whereas her room was peeling, pipes dripping, and walls perpetually permeating a musty odor into the air, the church never had a bad day. Sometimes in the winter when she felt like she was about to freeze to death from the draftiness, bundled in as many things as she could find, there were still candlelit ceremonies being held in the main tower just a hallway away.
It’s confusing at times, but Ellie pushes it to the back of her mind as she follows Paul through to the stairwell. He pushes the door open with one hand throwing a cheery hello to one of the caretakers walking past.
“Hey, did you hear that someone finally took Maria home?” His voice echoed up the flights of stairs on top of their scuffling feet. “Davis looked like he was ready to explode when he signed her off.”
Paul laughs at his own statement.
“Seriously? I feel bad for them. She’ll probably be back in a few days though, give or take.”
“That’s what I thought too, but apparently they adore her. You should hear some of the stuff they bought her, sheesh. Sign me up brutha.”
Ellie hums.
“Remember when we were all jealous when Cody texted about getting a walkie talkie set we’d always wanted? Well think bigger, way bigger. Like I’m talking about designer clothes, and, and giant,” he gestures wildly, “flat TV thingamajiggies.”
“Flat-screen TV’s,” Ellie mumbles instinctively.
“Uh huh, those.” Paul continues, obviously happy to have caught Ellie’s attention. “She has one of those.”
“Where do you even hear all this from?” Ellie huffs, mostly to herself as they reach the fifth floor and push open the door to the female residential halls. She doesn’t even need to ask to know that Paul was staying over for as long as he could before curfew, and maybe if they were stealthy enough, longer. They’ve been doing this for as long as she can remember.
“Oh you know. People gossip.” Paul waves it off. “I’m tight with Sofie and Maggie which were practically her best friends.”
Paul is tight with everyone, and Ellie admired and envied that in equal parts.
“Anyway, Maria’s totally sucking up out there. There’s no way that family would like her if they’d seen her in here. She’s a total devil.” Paul slaps his hand over his mouth and backpedals. “I- I mean she’s just not cool. Totally not cool.”
“He’s not gonna come for you just because you’ve said his name. Do you think the devil has time for all that?”
“Shhh, stop. Anyways, I’ve made up my mind and I support her choice because it’s either that or being booted. She’s seventeen and already so lucky that someone actually wanted her. A few more months and she would have been on the curb.”
Ellie stops to unlock her door with a click, pushing right in and making a beeline for the bed. She plops down gracelessly.
“Thank god it’s Friday,” she groans through her arm slung over her face. Paul smiles and drops his bag down on the ground before taking a seat at her desk. Ellie’s room was basically bare. Except for a bed pushed to the corner, a wobbling desk and chair set, and a nightstand with a small lamp that flickered every few minutes, her room was devoid of any types of personal belongings. Her small closet only held half its capacity of clothes which was just enough to fill a duffel bag stuffed in the corner below.
Ellie sighs and swings her bag down to join Paul’s. She pushes herself up to lean against the wall. “At least she’s gotten out of here. That’s more than we can say.”
Pauls nods. “We’re not too far from eighteen, Ellie.”
Her gut twists uncomfortably at the thought. “Still nearly a year away.”
“Yeah, but it’s certainly something to think about.”
It’s not like the topic hasn’t come up before. Since all kids were kicked out when they became of age, it was the hottest topic amongst the older kids. And Ellie can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about it once or twice as well, but each time the anxiety claws up her throat and she forces the thoughts back out of her mind.
“Nothing to do about it, anyhow. No family’s going to want to take us in at our age, so we just have to keep our heads down and figure it out ourselves. Maybe get a job. Or two.”
“Well Maria made it. I’d say there’s hope for us.”
Ellie turns away. “Not for me. I’m not going to wake up pretending like I’m fine every day for the rest of my life or become indebted to people that don’t understand the first thing about me.”
Paul doesn’t contradict her and they fall into silence. They had a good few hours to kill until dinner. Paul is obviously holding his tongue and after a bit, he speaks up again.
“You know, they say it takes five thousand dollars.” He hushes out. “Five thousand dollars and you’ll have a chance on your own. Yeah, you’d have to get a job and work really hard, but you can probably get somewhere to stay for the first year with that money and then just work for everything else. Steve did it, and his pal Al did it with less. They’re in New City together right now doing construction. It wouldn’t be much but at least you can live the way you want.”
Ellie doesn’t respond, staring at the long strands of light filtering through her shades from the single window in her room.
“And if it’s you and me both, we could take care of each other. We could make pancakes in the morning and have sleepovers every night. I’d marry you, Ellie, and we could start a family together-”
“Woah, woah.” Ellie laughs putting her hands out even as her heart burns with longing. “Let’s slow down.”
“Okay no kids yet and no marriage, but we could get our own place.” Paul sits forward with excitement. “We can do this. We really can.”
“I don’t know, ten thousand is a lot of money. Unless you have some secret stash that I don’t know about…” She trails off, letting the insinuation hang in the air between them. They both know that Paul has no such thing. He wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut about it.
“We can start now. We have an entire year.”
Ellie draws her knees up to her chest and is silent as she thinks. Five thousand dollars… Broken down, that would be about 15 dollars a day. She could make that off of writing papers for kids at school or if she had quick fingers like she did that day at the market. With a jolt, she remembers the six hundred dollars tucked safely in her sock placed in her duffle and bites her lip. At least that’s a head start.
Seeing her obvious hesitation, Paul stands.
“I know it’s a stretch, but there’s no harm in trying. If we both work hard enough this year, we can make a future for ourselves.”
He sticks out his hand towards her with his palm facing up.
“We can do this.”
Ellie stares at his hand. Slowly, she lifts hers and takes it.
“Okay.”
//
It’s getting chilly in Central City. As fall bleeds into winter, the cold winds would sweep through the church doors on days that it was open, which is most. Ellie shivers as they walk down to the dining hall and stuffs her hands into her hoodie pocket.
They’re not making much progress. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she and Paul made their pact and since then, both have been searching for any and every opportunity to get money. She offered to write a free paper for the school’s gossip girl in exchange for the word to be spread about her services, but business is slow. She hasn’t developed the reputation yet and could guarantee neither quality nor discretion at the moment. So far, she had only managed to make $20 off a desperate first year who forgot his deadline resulting in some of the most frantic typing and brainwork that Ellie has ever done. And a quick $15 off a love letter to the school’s most popular jock. Disgusting.
Paul wasn’t doing much better, though his methods were significantly more… flashy. He decided a hotdog stand was the best way to capitalize on his talents.
“I make the meanest taco sausage ever!” He had boasted one day in the dining hall.
Even though Ellie had no clue what the hell that was, she’d merely nodded along. It was such a Paul thing to come up with all sorts of strange ideas anyways.
After school he’d bring out a small cart and a few steaming sausages with wraps, all of which he had sweet-talked out of the dining staff with the promise of dishwashing duty every Friday. It wasn’t much. The cart was old and rickety, and since the weather got colder fast, most times the sausages would be cold by the time someone curious actually stopped by. Nevertheless, when Paul made his first $5 selling taco sausages to a peculiar old man (Ellie suspects by the thickness of his glasses that he had absolutely no idea what he had just bought), he’d shaken her with such enthusiasm that Ellie had no choice but to laugh in return.
But it wasn’t enough.
“How much did you bring in this week?” Paul whispers to her loudly.
“Nothing. No new clients.”
Ellie pulls up her hood and shrinks into her jacket. They’re on their way to some art class that Paul insists on going to. They sometimes get volunteers that put on events like capture the flag when it was warm enough outside or various crafts projects. They’re few and far in between, and this one popped up on a Saturday afternoon when Ellie couldn’t claim that she was busy with schoolwork.
“Are we behind?” Paul mumbles, frowning.
“So behind. We need to think of something else.”
“But I’m all out of ideas.” Paul pouts and they turn the corner into the west wing.
Ellie huffs. “We need to find jobs, but unfortunately there’s not much open to us. I mean we’re not exactly hiring material.”
“Do you think the school has stuff open?”
“Not that I know of. Everything’s volunteer-based, so even if I sign up to be, like, a tutor or something, I wouldn’t even get paid.”
They’re approaching the open classroom doors, and lots of kids of various ages have already filled most of the seats. The volunteer stands in the middle of the room with her back turned towards them. She wore a neon yellow shirt that had “VOLUNTEER” printed on the back in big, bold lettering.
“Do you think we can ask Davis? If he’s head of Squahamish, he probably has a job board or something he can point us towards.”
Ellie opens her mouth to reply, but then the volunteer turns around to greet a kid running through the doors and Ellie stops dead in her tracks.
“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes widening in shock. In front of her, the girl from the market smiles down at a young boy and is laughing at something he said.
“What?” Paul says, “Ellie, let’s go, they’re closing the doors.”
But Ellie stays rooted to the spot, staring. She’s dressed down from her teal dress today in a pair of black ripped jeans and matching black vans. A gray beanie is pulled over her hair which is still as glossy and luscious as Ellie remembers it. Ellie can’t help but notice this time that when the girl smiles, a set of dimples press into her cheeks.
“Ellie!” Paul repeats, breaking her out of her reverie. She backs up instantly.
“Uh no. You go ahead,” she smiles a little too widely and Paul frowns. Ellie’s already half-turned and more than ready to make her escape, but Paul grabs her wrist and tugs her back gently.
“Hey,” he says with a furrowed brow. “What’s up? Tell me you’re not bailing out on me again.”
“No Paul.” Ellie whispers discretely and struggles against his hold. “I swear I’ll tell you later, but I really have to go now.”
She’s trying not to draw the attention of a certain brunette in the room, but evidently Paul is no on the same page.
“Where?” He practically booms and Ellie winces. “It’s just a painting class. One hour, Ellie.”
“I know, but it’s really not that.”
“I thought you liked painting, though?” Paul says obviously confused and Ellie manages to worm her way out of his grip. “It’ll be really fun!”
“Listen, Paul. I’m sorry, I know I said I would come with you and I promise I will make it up to you, but I just really can’t-”
“Hey.” A voice says, and Ellie raises her eyes past Paul’s towering figure and feels her stomach drop when she comes face to face with the girl leaning against the door, staring directly at her. She’s chewing on a piece of gum (mint based on its green color from where it peeps out from between her lips… not that Ellie’s looking there) and twirling a paintbrush with an unreadable expression. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re getting ready to start.”
She doesn’t spare a glance at Paul who’s openly gaping at her, but rather addresses Ellie entirely. “And your friend is right. Just one hour, and I promise I won’t make you regret it.”
The girl smiles (smirks?) at her and without waiting for an answer, spins back into the room. Ellie blinks in shock. The interaction was way too sudden and she secretly feels a little annoyed that the girl had managed to sneak up on her again. Had she not recognized her? No, but she must have. Then why hadn’t she called the police or acted like Ellie hadn’t just stole $600 from right under her friend’s nose?
“Uh. Wow. Ellie, we have to go.” Paul tugs at her arm again and this time Ellie lets herself be led into the lion’s den.
She attributes her lack of motor function as Paul drags her to the last two seats remaining at one of the long tables towards the back to the shock of course. The class is interesting, at least. Even though Ellie’s head swims a little bit after the girl introduces herself as “Aster, a senior from Westridge.” That’s ten minutes from here! Aster really knows how to paint, apparently. She whips out a portrait of the girl sitting in front of her in minutes, talking through the whole process. When the painting is finished, it bears an uncanny resemblance to the muse who blushes as the rest of the class Ooo’s. Aster smiles.
“Today, you guys are going to paint something that motivates you— the thing that you want most.” She circles around the room towards the back.
“It can be anything.” As Aster walks towards their table and Ellie gulps nervously, glancing down at her hands folded on top of the table. Ellie sees her stop a few steps in front of her out of the corner of her eye. When she gives in and finally looks up, their gazes lock.
“A big house, fancy car.” Aster pauses and smiles. “Chocolate cookies.”
The class giggles and Aster shoots Ellie a wink. She turns back towards the front of the room again. “You have five colors each. Grab a paper and get started!”
Ellie swallows as the room bursts into action and excited chatter. Dear God if there ever exists one, excuse my unholy existence and just let me get through this one hour in one piece!
An hour goes by pretty quickly, in the end, if Ellie’s being honest. After getting over her initial shock, she reaches out and grabs a paper from the stack on their table. The materials area all laid out in a cluster and she and Paul divvy up their share from the other kids sitting next to them. It’s not much—the brushes are big and clumsy, and the paint was the cheap, water-based kind so that even if the kids ingested some, they wouldn’t end up sick. But Ellie was glad to be painting again. It’s not often that she got this opportunity, but art was always her favorite subject in school.
Paul doesn’t hesitate to paint a series of lopsided boxes that Ellie can only assume is meant to represent his greatest desire.
“It’s a kitchen! Can’t you tell?” Paul points at his paper excitedly. Paint was already starting to get everywhere, and he currently sported a long streak of green on his chin. “I’ve always wanted to own my own kitchen.”
Ellie smiles. Paul’s one and only dream was to be a chef, so if Ellie stuck around until then, she was sure to benefit from all the delicious creations. Her own paper was a mess of squares as well. After hesitating for way too long (“Ellie, come one! You’ve been thinking for ages!”), she finally allowed herself to confess her desires. The only red that she had at her disposal was bright and abrasive, and the green an ugly synthetic green, nothing like the leafy tone she was thinking of. Nevertheless, she squirted out a decent portion from the bottle and got to it. She let her imagination run wild. Tall brick walls with green ferns in front. Based on the pictures, she wasn’t straying too far, but here and there, her own ideas presented itself onto the paper. Blending more colors, she dabbed in the shadows and then outlined the highlights. So focused in her own world, she was completely unaware of how fast time had passed.
Finally, she leant back to survey her work, wiping paint from her nose where it had somehow gotten in her quest to illustrate her dream.
“Wow!” Paul exclaims, and Ellie is startled back from where her mind wandered. “You really can do anything.”
Kids were bustling about, having already finished their work and filed in line to use the sink. Paul was leaning over her painting excitedly and when she leaned back even more, she was startled to find Aster seated on the table next to her, focused on her painting as well. Her legs were crossed in front of her and Ellie observes that she, too, was not immune to the messy nature of paint, with a couple streaks presenting themselves on her hands and upper arms.
“I see you went the ‘big house’ route,” she comments, amused, and Ellie has a weird urge to impress her all of a sudden.
“No, not quite.” Ellie picks up her thinnest paintbrush again (which was not that thin) and brings it back down to the paper. In quick strokes, she adds the crest engraved on the top of the arch. “Boston College.”
If she weren’t already looking up at Aster’s face, she would have missed the subtle bit of surprise flitting across her features, but Ellie saw little else. Aster smiles.
“I see you’re not aspiring to live a life of crime after all,” she finally says.
Ellie flushes and she has no idea what to say to that, but luckily she’s spared the trouble because Paul saves the day.
“Hi, Aster! You’re super cool, I mean, your paintings are super cool. But you are too. I mean, well, do you take classes?”
“Yeah.” Aster answers easily, laughing a little at his bumbling. “My uncle owns a studio actually, and he expects me to put some of my pieces up for next Wednesday’s show. If you guys are free, you should stop by. The more friendly faces, the merrier.”
Just as Ellie was opening her mouth to refuse, Paul beats her to it. “Yeah! Of course, we’ll be there.” He elbows Ellie into agreement. “Where’s it going to be? Wow, I’ve never been to an art show before.”
Aster gives them an address and laughs again at Paul’s wide eyes when he says “That’s right above Sed’s Sausages!”
They stay behind as kids file out the doors while Aster shares more details about the show. The classroom gradually empties out and as the last two kids trickle out, the three of them are left in silence—a delightfully comfortable one if you’d ask Paul, tense and awkward if you’d ask Ellie. Finally, Aster stands, glancing at her watch.
“Well, I better get going. It was nice meeting you…”
“Paul,” he says with a wide grin.
“Paul,” Aster repeats and switches her gaze over to Ellie. “And…?”
Ellie meets her gaze steadily. For a minute she considers lying to preserve her identity, just in case this all turned out to be an elaborate plan to catch her and Aster really did end up turning her in to the police. But… Aster’s eyes are yet a different color—warm and honey brown in the afternoon sun. They’re trained directly on Ellie’s and she shivers. Something about Aster’s gaze felt like it bore into her very soul, but she dismisses the thought without a second thought.
“Ellie.”
“Ellie…” Aster repeats, tilting her head like she’s thinking. Ellie watches her tongue trace over the syllables and feels herself grow hot again. Seemingly coming to a conclusion, she says, smiling, “Well it was nice meeting you, Paul and Ellie. Hopefully this won’t be the last time we see each other.”