Toxic Bad Boy(21)

Her smile disappeared. “Caleb, from what you’ve told me, Ian hasn’t exactly been a model prisoner.”

He’d had a few arguments with guards and had been involved in several fights over the past seven months. He really should have thought before he’d acted out. While I spent time in the art room, Ian had a lot of free time to misbehave. It probably didn’t help that his juvie record was longer than mine.

As guilty as I’d feel at leaving him behind, I needed to get the hell out of here. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

She latched onto my hand, squeezing lightly. “I can’t wait for you to come home.”

My mom tended toward optimism and I knew she was already counting on the early release. “First we have to convince a judge to let me out.”

She sat up straight. “We could show him your paintings!”

“Yeah,” I said cynically, “Because a judge is really going to give a crap about what some kid paints.”

“Caleb!” my mom reprimanded in a tone that hadn’t worked since I was in elementary school. “Art speaks to people in ways words do not.”

I didn’t want to get into the debate again about communicating through art. I might have the skills of an artist, even the drive to create, but my mom had the soul of one. I was a little too much of a realist for the fanciful bullshit artists liked to spout.

“I think we’ll stick to my lawyer’s arguments,” I told her.

“I’m sure Gianna will be thrilled to hear about this.”

“Mom, don’t tell anyone about this and tell Dad not to let anyone know either. If I don’t get out early, she won’t be disappointed.” My words were stern enough to get it through her head. In my mom’s mind, it might be as good as done, but in my mind it was a big maybe.

“Fine.” Her disappointment was apparent, but I wouldn’t waver in my decision to keep it quiet. “When you come home, we really need to start looking into art schools. You’ll want to apply to the best across the country.”

“I’ll be going to the same college as Gianna.” This separation would be the last. In my head, I was already planning on how to spend the money I received from my paintings, if the gallery showing happed. We would probably spend our first year of college in the dorms, but by sophomore year we’d get an apartment together.

“I’m sure you don’t have to go to the exact same school,” my mom said. “I mean, Gianna will most likely go to a state college. Although state universities have art programs, where you really need to be is an art school. You’re talented, Caleb, but your talent is still raw. You need to learn technique. Maybe even look into other forms of expression.”

“We’ll see,” I replied noncommittally. “So, the divorce is almost final?”

My mom pursed her lips. “Yes, that woman will finally be out of your father’s life.”

I hadn’t wanted to ask my dad about it because I knew he’d been nursing a broken heart since Julie filed for divorce last fall. But, seriously, everyone thought he was better off without her. I just felt sorry for Chance. Most of the woman’s attention was focused on him now.

Not that it would take a woman like Julie long to find husband number three. She was still kind of young and attractive enough to catch some poor sucker.

It would be a relief when Gianna and I were no longer stepbrother and stepsister. The relationship had always been awkward to explain and I’d enjoy just calling her my girlfriend.

After my mom left, taking the paintings with her, I entered the TV room looking for Ian. He sat watching a Harry Potter movie. The facility had decided to have a movie marathon of the series, even providing us with popcorn as a treat.

As he ignored my presence, I snapped my fingers in his face. “Hey!”

He turned to grant me an aggravated look. “What?”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Watching a movie, now get lost if you can’t keep your mouth shut.” He turned back to the screen.

Shaking my head, I ditched him in the TV room and asked for permission to hang out in the art room. A guard escorted me there and predictably I had the place to myself.

Staring at the blank canvas in front of me, I had the sudden urge to paint the night of the attack. Dammit, now that my mom had brought up the idea, the need to paint it grew.

In an attempt to avoid painting the worst night of my life, I instead painted a picture of Gage wearing a tuxedo, sprawled out on a dance floor as he bled to death.

My mom wouldn’t want to show the judge this one.





CHAPTER SIX





“The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out.”