Girls in Pants - Ann Brashares [36]
Win looked solemn. “That does sound rough.”
“Yeah. I better go,” Carmen said. She wasn’t sure she could endure the Valia wail another time.
“She’s lucky about one thing, though,” Win called after her.
Carmen turned her head as she walked away, feeling her long hair swing over her shoulder like a girl in a movie.
“What’s that?”
“She has you.”
Lena felt too fragile to go back to drawing class for a few days. She knew her father would be watching her closely now. She waited until she felt strong enough for a confrontation before she dared to go back.
She asked Annik if they could talk during the long break, and Annik agreed. This time Lena led the way to the courtyard. Annik had been so pleased when Lena had first told her about RISD. Annik rattled on about all the teachers she knew there. Now, with the change in plans, Lena felt like she had to tell her that, too.
“So he says I can’t go. They won’t pay for it,” Lena explained numbly.
Annik’s mouth narrowed. Her dark eyes widened within their frames of reddish eyelashes. She seemed to hold back. She probably knew it didn’t help to trash a person’s parent, no matter what he’d done. “He says you can’t go or he won’t pay for it?” she asked finally, flatly.
“I guess both. I can’t go if they don’t pay.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Lena shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“You should. People go to art school who don’t have any money. There are two ways. I’m guessing that you wouldn’t qualify for financial aid?”
Lena shook her head. They lived in a big, nice house with a pool. Her father was a successful lawyer. Her mother had a good income.
“Then you’ll have to win a merit scholarship,” Annik said.
“How do you do that?” Lena was afraid to be hopeful.
“I could call my friend—” Annik stopped herself. She put her hands together.
Lena counted Annik’s rings, nine altogether.
“If I were you,” Annik went on, changing course, “I’d go on the Web site or call them up and find out. And if they tell you no, then ask some more questions until you get somebody to tell you yes.”
Lena looked doubtful. “I’m not really good at that kind of thing.”
Annik looked impatient. Not mad or dismissive, but definitely impatient. “Do you want to go to art school or stay home?”
“I want to go to art school. I can’t stay home.”
“Then figure out how to do it.” Annik put her hand, briefly, on Lena’s elbow. “Lena, I think you could do something good. I think you have talent, possibly a lot of it, and I don’t say that lightly. I want you try. I can see it’s what you love. But I can’t fight for you. You have to fight for yourself.”
“I do?”
Annik gave Lena an encouraging half smile. “You do. You’ve got to take up some space, girl.”
So the first strategy wasn’t going to work. Not only was Bridget not going to avoid Eric, she was going to see him constantly. Somebody up there was having a sick laugh at her expense.
Bridget took a long run on her break after lunch and tried to formulate plan B.
She and Eric weren’t going to be strangers, so they were going to have to be friends. She could do that. She could treat him like a regular guy. Couldn’t she?
She could try to forget that he was her first and her only. She could put aside the disastrous effect their brief fling had on her life. She could ignore—she could try really hard to ignore—the mighty attraction she felt to him. She could make herself accept that he did not feel that same attraction for her.
Bridget was breathing hard now, running up a steep hill, curving round and round. The forest cosseted her on either side.
The truth was, she had never felt so overwhelmingly drawn to anyone. In the two years since they’d seen each other, she had questioned this particular magnetism Eric had for her. Was it real? Or was she so caught up in