The Wanderers Beginning: The Wanderers, Reborn, & Unforgiven (17 page)

             
“Ella wait!” Jack yelled, running after me.

             
“You better go. You're going to be late for class,” I said and kept walking, leaving Jack standing alone in the middle of the quad.

Chapter
ten

When I got back to my room I collapsed on the bed and looked over at my alarm clock. It was one pm here so that meant it was eleven am back home. I thought it was time I gave my mom a call. I haven't talked to her since I got here and that was over a month ago. She was probably freaking out by now.

             
I got up, took out my cell, and dialed home. “McCallister residence,” Danni answered.

             
“Hey Danni.”

             
“Ella, how are you?”

             
“I'm good.”

             
“Oh no, what happened?” Danni knew me better than anyone and could always tell when something was wrong just by the sound of my voice.

             
“I don't want to get into it now, but I promise it's nothing I can't handle.”

             
“Okay, well you know I'm always here when you need to talk.”

             
“I know Danni, thanks. Is my mom there?”

             
“Actually no, she's at a meeting.”

             
“Okay thanks Danni,” I said a little disappointed.

             
“Do you want me to tell her you called?” she asked.

             
“No, I'll try and reach her later.”

             
“Okay, you take care now.”

             
“I will. Tell Hadley I said hello and give her a big kiss for me.” We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone and lay back on my bed. I closed my eyes hoping I'd fall asleep, wishing that when I wake, this would all be just a bad dream.

             
I had no such luck. I tossed and turned for an hour until I finally gave up.

             
Josie strolled through the door not saying a word. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. She went straight to the mini fridge, dumped some ice into a bag, and tossed it at me. “You should put that on your face,” she said.

             
I picked up the bag and watched as she made one for herself. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me?” I asked softly.

             
“Oh no, I'm mad at you, but not because of the fight.”

             
“Then what?”

             
“Because you gave me a black eye,” she said, pointing to the small bruise below her left eye.

             
“Josie that was an accident.”

             
“I know but it still hurt,” she replied, sitting next to me on the bed.

             
“I really am sorry,” I said, laying my head on her shoulder.

             
“I know you are but that still doesn't mean I'm not going to milk this for everything it's worth,” she said, making me laugh. “What the hell happened, anyway?”

             
“Ugh!” I groaned, throwing myself back on my bed. “It was stupid and totally not my fault.”

             
“Uh-huh,” Josie said, moving to her bed.

             
“What? It wasn't. She started it,” I declared.

             
“And you didn't say anything to provoke her?”

             
“She pushed me first,” I said defensively.

             
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” she laughed.

             
“Whatever.”

             
“I'm pretty sure she deserved it. A lot of people don't like her. I think the sisters only tolerate her because they have to. She can be a real bitch,” Josie confessed.

             
“Tell me about it.”

             
“Hey I have a surprise for you,” she said, getting up and heading out into the hall. She returned with a TV on a roller cart. “I bribed one of the A.V. guys into letting me borrow this for the night. I thought maybe we could have a Glee marathon,” she said, popping one of the DVDs into the DVD player.

             
“Sounds perfect.”

             
“I'll ask Peter across the hall if we can use his microwave to make some popcorn,” Josie said, disappearing again. She came back with a giant bowl of freshly popped popcorn and plopped down on the bed next to me. I readjusted myself and the ice pack before pressing play on the DVD player.

             
We spent the next four hours watching our favorite episodes of Glee. By six, Josie and I were hungry again so she ordered us a pizza. We sat and ate while she told me all about her date on Saturday. She said this one might be a keeper, which just meant it would last a month instead of a week.

             
I looked at the clock. It was close to nine. I figured Tristan was still mad at me and changed his mind about helping me with my painting. I sighed, thinking, I wish I could have handled the confrontation with Skylar better.

             
“What's wrong?” Josie asked noticing I was distant.

             
“It's nothing,” I said picking at my nails.

             
“It's not nothing. You've been staring at that clock for the past two hours. Did you have other plans tonight?”

             
“No. Not really.”

             
She knew I was lying. Josie could always tell when I was lying. “What is it, Ella? You know you can tell me anything.”

             
“I know it's just...” There was an unexpected knock at the door. I got up to answer it.

             
It was Tristan.

             
“You ready?” he asked. I looked at him not quite sure. “To finish your painting.”

             
              “Oh...um...” I looked at Josie. She waved me off. “Okay, just let me grab my coat,” I said going over to the closet. I put on my jacket and closed the door behind me. “Since when do you knock?” I asked.

             
“I thought I'd try being polite.”

             
“Oh,” was all I managed.

             
“And I thought you were mad at me.”

             
“Me? Why would I be mad at you?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I thought you were mad at me,” I confessed.

             
“No, I was mad at Skylar for the way she acted.”

             
“Are...you two...together?” I asked even though I was pretty sure I didn't want to know the answer.

             
“No.”

             
“Were you?” I pressed wanting to know more.

             
He let out a sigh. “Skylar and I...we just kind of hung out.”

             
“You mean you played cowboys and Indians?” I teased and saw the faintest smile.

             
“She was more of a cops and robbers type girl.”

             
“Please, spare me the details,” I begged, not wanting to hear the orientation of his so called intimacies with Skylar.

              He smiled slightly and shifted closer to me. His hand touched mine and I flinched, pulling it away, and sticking it in my pocket. His hand was warm and inviting, but I wasn't going to let him know he was getting to me.

             
We didn't speak the rest of the way to the Art studio. When we arrived the professor was still there. “Good evening Ella, Tristan,” she said looking at her watch. “I expected you two an hour ago.”

             
“Sorry, I got caught up with something,” Tristan explained. The professor just pushed up her glasses and went back to her paperwork.

             
Tristan took my coat and hung it up while I grabbed our supplies. We immediately went to work. Tristan explained to me everything he felt I was doing wrong and showed me how to correct it. I listened carefully to each suggestion. When he thought I got it, he let me try it on my own. “You know Tristan, for someone with your precision, skill, and knowledge, you would make a great teacher,” the professor praised. “It would be a shame to not put those talents to good use.”

             
“That's just because I have a good student,” he said, smiling at me. “I find my talents are better used for party planning.”

             
The professor just shook her head and walked back to her desk. “I'm heading home for the night. Feel free to stay as late as you need. Just remember to please lock up when you're done.”

             
“Thank you professor,” I replied as she left.

             
Tristan worked on a new painting while I finished mine. An hour later, it was complete. “Done,” I said proudly. 

             
Tristan put his paintbrush down so he could inspect it. He stood up and stared at it. He rubbed his chin with his paint stained hand trying to act serious. After a few minutes of him not saying anything, I got impatient with his act. “Tristan!”

             
He laughed. “It's good, but it's missing something,” he said, tapping his finger on his chin.

             
“What?” I asked, looking at my painting and wondering where he was going with this.

             
He picked up my paintbrush. “It needs a little something right, here.” He turned to face me and painted a blue line down my nose. I just looked at him, smiling, thinking he was slick.

             
I decided to play along.

             
“You know what, I think you're right. It needs a little more red.” I picked up a paintbrush and drew a big squiggly line across Tristan's face. I put my brush down and tried not to laugh.

             
“I think you could use some green,” he said, painting both sides of my cheeks.

             
I took a breath and picked up the yellow. “I think it needs a touch of yellow yet.” I grabbed a bigger brush and slapped two big lines on his shirt.

             
“Okay, now you've done it,” he said, moving away. I couldn't help it anymore. I started to crack up laughing. “Oh you think that's funny do you?” He picked up the yellow paint. “I think you’re in need of some hi-lights.”

             
“Don't you dare,” I warned, getting up from my seat and grabbing a bottle of paint.

             
He crept closer and with each step he took toward me, I took one back. “Tristan, I'm warning you. You try it and I will dump this whole bottle on you,” I threatened.

             
“No you won't. You don't have the guts,” he taunted.

             
“Really,” I said with a big smile on my face. He took another step closer and I threw the entire contents of the paint bottle on him.

             
He stood back, shocked.

             
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He was covered from the neck down in blue paint. “That's it,” he said, coming after me.

             
“No,” I squealed and tried to run in the opposite direction, but he caught me and dumped yellow paint all over my head. I reached for the next closest color and fired away. It turned into an all-out war.

             
We were chasing each other around the room with different colored paints trying to dowse one another. He got a hold of my arm and tried to dump more paint on me, but we both slipped and crashed to the floor laughing hysterically.

             
He lay flat on his back. “Okay, I give up,” he said.

             
“Truce,” I said, extending my hand and offering to help him up.

             
“Truce,” he accepted and sat up.

             
I looked around the now paint covered room. “We have a big mess to clean up,” I said, turning back to Tristan. He was resting with his arms on his knees, closer to me than he was before.

             
“What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable under his stare.

             
He looked into my eyes and reached up with his hand, gently brushing his thumb across my cheek and inching his way closer. I closed my eyes and held my breath. I could feel the slow exhale of his breath on my lips. It was warm and welcoming. I moved closer allowing his lips to graze mine.

             
“Ella!” I heard Jack calling my name. I pulled back and sighed. Tristan dropped his hand and turned away from me. “Ella, hey...um...what happened?” Jack asked, looking at us covered head to toe in paint.