to be her particular skill—and her escape.
She could sit in class, any class, and act as if she was taking copious notes when in reality she was making little sketches. Doodles—geometric and circular designs—and tiny portraits of the people around her. Trees and flowers and horses and dogs. She’d filled notebook after notebook with these drawings. No one had ever seen them, not even her mother. Especially not her mother. If her dad was alive, she might’ve shown him, but no one else. Shortly after her father died, she’d destroyed a bunch of those notebooks in an act of grief and rage.
“Hey, Shaw, you comin’ or not?”
Shaw glanced over his shoulder and then at her. “See you, Tanni.”
“Sure.” As he started to leave, Tanni realized she didn’t want him to go. “How’s Anson?” she asked quickly.
Shaw hesitated, then turned back with a shrug. “He’s okay.”
“I heard he’s working with Army Intelligence.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s impressive. What about Allison?”
“She’ll be around this week. You know she’s going to the University of Washington, don’t you? In Seattle.”
“Yeah.” Tanni’s brother was coming home from college, too, and their mother was making a big fuss about that. Still, Tanni would be glad to see Nick. He was supposed to arrive this evening, driving over from Washington State University in Pullman. By the time Tanni got back to the house, Nick would probably be there.
She missed her brother, although she’d never expected to. They used to fight constantly, but after the accident they’d established a fragile peace while they dealt with the upheaval in all their lives. Nick was the one person she talked to about her dad, the only person who felt the way she did.
Shaw took one step toward her. “I was thinking, you know, if you want, I could show you some of my drawings.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Cool.”
“When?” she asked.
“You doing anything after the bonfire?”
It wasn’t like she had to check her social calendar. “Not really.”
“I could meet you at Mocha Mama’s in an hour.”
Tanni looked at her watch. Mocha Mama’s was new in town. She hadn’t been inside yet but she knew where it was. “Okay.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back. Despite the cold wind, she felt a rush of warmth that didn’t come from the blazing fire.
After a few minutes, Shaw and his goth friends took off. Tanni watched the bonfire for another twenty minutes. Her mood had improved since she’d talked to Shaw, so she walked over to where Kara stood with a group of friends.
Tanni wasn’t sure why she hung out with Kara at all. Kara and the others were cheerleader types, although none of them was likely to make it onto any squad. They weren’t really part of the popular crowd. But then, neither was Tanni.
Half an hour later, she parked in front of Mocha Mama’s on Harbor Street. She entered the café, looking around with interest. The decor was typical coffeehouse, with lots of dark wood and old-fashioned lamps. There were only a few other customers—a couple engrossed in their conversation, heads close together, and two older men. Shaw sat at one of the half-dozen tables positioned near the window, nursing a cup of coffee. He’d dyed his hair black but his blond roots were showing. He used to wear it spiked, but he didn’t anymore. While attending Cedar Cove High he’d sometimes worn dark, garish makeup; he didn’t do that anymore, either.
He raised his head as she approached the table. “Want anything?” he asked.
She did if he was buying. “Coffee, I guess.”
He stood and walked over to the counter and brought her back a steaming mug. “It’s on the house.”
“Thanks.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Why? Do you work here?”
“Yeah. If you ever want a frappachino or anything, let me know.”
Shaw didn’t look like the barista type. “How long have you worked here?” she asked. The coffee he’d brought her was black, like his, but she decided not to add sugar or cream.
“Since it opened. My aunt and uncle own the place. I manage it for them.”
“Cool.”
Shaw pulled a sketchbook out of his backpack, which rested on the floor next to the window. “My work’s pretty amateurish compared with yours.”
Tanni hated it when people said that. They demeaned their own efforts because she was supposedly so talented.
She sipped her coffee as she started flipping through the pages of his sketchbook. The first bitter taste warmed her instantly. She studied each page. Shaw had talent, although the first few sketches, done in charcoal, were dark and weird. Buildings that had collapsed, blighted landscapes, a battlefield.
Suddenly Tanni turned a page and came across a field of blooming yellow tulips against the backdrop of a blue spring sky. The piece was done in pastels, so she was careful not to smudge it. She was surprised by the abrupt change in subject matter.
“I was up in the Skagit Valley,” he said.
Tanni felt his scrutiny. He seemed to be waiting for her to comment.
“Well?” he pressed. “What do you think?”
“What do you think?” she asked him.
“Me?”
“It’s your work. Do you like it or not?”
He didn’t seem to know what to say.
“This,” she said, shoving the sketchbook across the table. “The one you did after seeing the Skagit Valley. What did you feel while you were working on it?”
“Peace,” he said after a moment.
“This?” She flipped the page back to the previous one, done in charcoal, a picture of the cratered devastation after an earthquake.
Shaw raised his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” She wasn’t going to let him sidestep the question. “You wouldn’t have drawn it if you weren’t feeling something.”
“Anger, all right?” he said with barely controlled emotion. “My mother told me she didn’t want me drawing those kinds of pictures in the house. That made me mad. I hate being censored, as if I’m only allowed to have the thoughts and emotions she thinks are okay.”
“I feel it,” she murmured, studying the picture again.
“You feel what?”
She
