Shani Petroff - Finding Mr. Better-Than-You

That is not art, my boyfriend, Marc Gerber, said, pointing his paintbrush at my easel.

You are just jealous, I told him, studying my masterpiece, which admittedly looked like a big red splotch on a canvas. People will be fighting over this one day.

Yeah, our friend and Marcs soccer buddy Todd Slocum said, leaning over to get a better look, to get it out of their sight.

Marc laughed. Right? You take it. No, you take it. No, you take it, he said, pretending to be two people arguing over my work.

You know I dipped my brush into the red paint. I think your painting may need a little sprucing up.

I took a step toward him, wiggling my paintbrush at his project.

You wouldnt. Marcs eyes had a glint to them, almost daring me to go on.

Wouldnt I?

I inched closer. Marcs piece was of a soccer goalie leaping for the ball to stop the other team from scoring. My boyfriend lived for soccer. I think some red could spice it up.

Cam, he said, unsure of what I was going to do next.

Yes, Marc?

I twirled the brush as if I was about to make my move.

Before I could, he wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling his head into my neck. He knew I was super ticklish there.

I squealed as I tried to pull away, accidentally painting the side of his cheek.

Marc, Cam, stop it, our art teacher, Ms. Winters, called out. Do not make me speak to you again.

Sorry. I tried to look remorseful despite the fact that my boyfriend had a gob of red paint dripping down his face. I hoped I at least got some points for containing my laughter.

Me too, Marc said.

Ms. Winters let out a sigh and handed him a cloth to wipe off the paint. Then she turned her attention to me.

Didnt you say you had a guidance counselors appointment this period? Why dont you just go now?

I still had time, but I wasnt going to push it. She wanted me gone.

I was not exactly my art teachers favorite student. Yesterday alone, shed snapped at me eight times to stop talking and focus on my painting. It was only the first week of school, but Ms. Winters was already all business, determined to keep the class on track. And apparently, I wasnt making that easy.

I started cleaning up my station.

Whatd you do? Todd asked me.

Huh?

To get called to guidance.

I shook my head. No idea.

Marc still had a tiny bit of paint on his face. He looked so cute, but I decided to be a good girlfriend and help him out anyway. I wiped the smudge away with my thumb, and, after checking to make sure that Ms. Winters was facing the other direction, I gave him a light peck on the lips.

Todd rolled his eyes at me. I bet that has something to do with it. They probably figured out you lied to get in this class just to be with Marc.

I hadnt lied. Not exactly. Okay, I had. But it was for a good reason. I was not going my whole senior year without a class with my boyfriend.

You dont think thats it, do you? I asked.

Todd shrugged, but it wasnt his answer I was looking for. I wanted to know what Marc thought.

As if reading my mind, Marc squeezed my hand. Relax, its probably nothing.

I hoped he was right, but that word probably dug at me as I sat in the guidance counselors office.

Why did Todd have to get in my head? I hadnt been nervous at all until he opened his mouth. But now I was semipetrified. Id never been called to the office beforenot guidances, not the principals, not even the nurses.

I couldnt get in trouble: It was my senior year, and my transcript couldnt afford it. It needed to stay perfect if I had any chance of getting into Columbia, and I really needed to get in.

I stared at the clock on the wall. Id been waiting to see my guidance counselor, Ms. Vail, for twenty minutes. Much longer and last period would be over.

Finally her office door opened.

Thanks again, a tall, blondish girl said, walking out alongside Ms. Vail.

No problem, Lissi.

My ears perked up. This was the infamous Lissi Crandall? I craned my neck to get a better look. Everyone was talking about her. Not that I could blame them. It wasnt every day Brooksvale High got a new student, let alone at the start of senior year. Lissi was practically a celebrity in our little Connecticut town. Shed started attending the schools volleyball practices this summer, and from what Id heard, shed made quite the impression. Loved by some, hated by othersthis latter group included one of my BFFs, Grace Kim.

Ill keep you posted, Ms. Vail told her, then turned her attention toward me. Camryn Roth?

The sound of my name made Lissis face snap in my direction. Her eyebrows rose and her blue eyes widened. Did she know who I was?

We didnt have any classes together, but I guess it was possible shed heard about me. We did have people in common. I hung out with the soccer guys, and they were all about Lissi. Shes so hot; shes so funny; shes so perfect. I gave them more than my fair share of eye rolls over it, but I could sort of see what they saw in her. Lissi had that whole I can command a room without saying a word vibe.

You can come with me, Ms. Vail instructed.

I followed her into the office, thoughts of the new girl quickly evaporating. I had much bigger things to think about.

Have a seat, Ms. Vail said, shuffling through some files on her desk until she found the one that read CAMRYN ROTH. Sorry for the delay; the last meeting went longer than expected.

Thats okay.

Then I waited as she flipped through my transcript. She frowned as she turned to one of the pages. I was pretty sure she even shook her head slightly, but that could have been my imagination. My right knee started shaking, moving up and down at a rapid pace. It had a mind of its own. I pressed my hands down to stop it, but it wasnt doing any good.

Ms. Vail still hadnt said anything.

I really, really appreciate you switching me to that art class, I sputtered, trying to get ahead of the situation. Sorry for all the emails and voice mails about it this summer. But I think it will definitely help my college applications. Cant get enough culture, I always say. I didnt always say that. Id never said that. Well, except when I was trying to convince my counselor of something.

In the case of this past summer, it was getting Ms. Vail to move me into my boyfriends classalthough I never mentioned the boyfriend part to her. I may or may not have bugged her about four dozen times to get switched into Ms. Winters last-period art class.

After the first dozen correspondences, she wrote me back with good news. She had managed to move me to Mr. Tobins second-period art class. But good to her was sucktastic to me. Id been trying to get into Marcs class so I could be near him, not to learn about pointillism and other things that made my head spin. So I doubled down, saying that the only reason I wanted to take art was to work under Ms. Winters esteemed tutelage. Yes, I laid it on thick, and often, but I had an agenda: taking at least