Ex: someone with whom a person was once associated, in a relationship, marriage, or once talked to.
*
I noticed an enormous shift in morale in the final weeks of school. As the holidays drew near, I overheard everybody talking about what they would do at the beachside resort. Estelle was excited to show off her new swimsuit, every time someone mentioned it she would force everyone to participate in a fashion show.
I was packing up my things after the last maths class of the term, my classmates saying their goodbyes as they left the classroom while others lingered around to talk about their plans for the holidays. A few girls from the class, a cute little group of three, approached my desk with a cheerful greeting. "What're your plans for the holidays, Landon?" Amelia asked bashfully.
Amelia was a strange case. She always became so shy when she spoke to me, but with everyone else, she seemed fine. Today's unique brand of coyness included tightly holding her books to her chest while she swayed, a small smile imprinted on her face. Her friends Penelope and Garcia sat on the desk surrounding mine, including themselves in the conversation.
"We're going to a party tonight to celebrate our temporary freedom," Garcia informed brushing aside some of her black hair.
"Music, dancing, flirting. It would be great to see you there," Penelope cooed with a subtle wink.
I wasn't oblivious to how often girls seemed to flirt with me in school, but I was always impressed by how upfront some of them were. "Sorry ladies, I've got holiday plans," I informed, "My flatmates and I are heading for a trip up the coast in a few days, and I, being a complete idiot, haven't packed yet."
They all shared a laugh. "My family is going back to Spain for the holidays," Garcia said, "cultura, familia y comida." Garcia's voice turned velvety when she spoke Spanish, and she wore her heritage with pride in both body and soul.
"My little sister gets to go to Paris," Penelope complained as I scooped up my bag. The girls followed me as we slowly walked out. "Meanwhile I stuck around here because I'm failing English. I get a live-in tutor for the next two weeks." She sighed as she hipped me, "Hope they're as cute as you, Landon."
I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Good luck focusing if that's the case," I countered.
Penelope scoffed and clicked her tongue, "Ha, cheeky." She linked arms with Garcia when we got to the doorway and started down the hall.
Amelia lingered for a moment, giving me a deer in the headlights expression as she tilted her head down and found the courage to speak, "Have a good holiday, Landon." She turned on her heels and sped walked away from me, joining Penelope and Garcia in their arm link.
I was still smiling, "You too Amelia," I murmured readjusting my bag.
"What's that? Girlfriend number three?" someone asked.
I turned to see Alexis leaning on the wall by the doorway, soaking in the sun streaming in through the window with her golden bell in hand. She was gently waving it back and forth, replacing its usual abrasive sound with a gentle twinkle. "Alexis Virginia Beggary were you waiting for me?" I asked walking to her.
She turned her head, but her eyes saw straight through me. "This is a new space to me, I certainly didn't come here on accident," she said fastening the bell to a loop on her belt, "And since we're using full names," she cleared her throat, "Landon Maurice Becks, I want your assistance with something."
I nodded, "Name it."
"For one thing, walk me out of this building, it's deafening," Alexis stated holding an arm out to me. I obeyed, linking mine with hers and making out way down the hall. "And for another, has Amia told you about sleeping arrangements?"
"For the resort? No, not really," I said, "Why?"
"From what I gather, Amada and Amia are sharing a room, Ava and Robyn are bunking together, Estelle has Simmons staying with her and Bonnie and Mia are gonna be in one room," she explained, "It's an expensive place, but not without business. Amia said her Aunt would rather everyone be in pairs to avoid taking up unnecessary space during the peak of holidays season." As we walked, students rushed around us, hastily emptying their lockers to run outside. "Now… I know you may not be comfortable with it, but how would you feel about sharing a room with me?"
I raised an eyebrow at the offer before I could answer she continued. "I think the twins have a personalised room or something at the resort, and I would feel a little uncomfortable just asking Amada to switch if he's not okay with it," she informed, "I'll persist if you say no."
Growing up, I had shared my room with girls before. To save money, my sisters and I would often share a room with bunk beds. But I figured sharing a room with a non-blood related girl would be a bit different.
"I mean, it's not like I'm going to see anything," Alexis teased nudging me in the ribs.
"Oof!" I rubbed my side and laughed, "If you're comfortable with it, sure. I'd imagine we could survive each other's company for five days."
Alexis scoffed, but nodded, "Lovely then."
I took a moment to think about what she said. "Is that all you wanted assistance with?"
She shook her head, "Can you help me move my exhibition piece? I've got to take it to Mr Beasley, but I don't have enough hands or memory to get there on my own."
I remembered Mr Beasley's classroom, it was in the North building on the second floor. My Maths class was in the West building on the fifth floor. "How'd you find your way here then?"
Alexis pulled me to the side until we were walking along the wall. She reached a hand out and ran her fingertips over the large blue stripe painted into the wall. "It's not an exact science, but if I follow this wall, it takes me to every classroom in this building. When I reach a classroom sign," we passed one, and her hands ran over its label, "The school installed Braille on them. I remembered you were in room 310 and just went from there." She dropped her arm and looked to me, "Takes time but I get there eventually."
We walked down some stairs and made it out to the courtyard. Alexis had taken her exhibit and brought it to the yard with a series of wheelbarrows and wagons.
A familiar face was guarding her work. "You still there, Dylan?" Alexis asked approaching her art.
Dylan stood up straight as Alexis approached, "Yeah Rusty, it's still here."
"No one touched it?" Alexis asked walking to one of the wheelbarrows. Dylan sidestepped to avoid her blind stride.
"Not while I was guarding it," he informed, he sounded exasperated. I waited a few meters away, eventually gathering up the bother to walk over to them. When he saw me, he tilted his head and folded his arms. "Hey newbie," he greeted as if a few weeks ago hadn't happened.
"Hi," I greeted plainly.
Alexis looked up from one of her wheelbarrows, "You two know each other?"
Dylan smirked, "You could say that."
I rolled my eyes, "Where's your crew?"
He shrugged, "I dunno. Home probably." Dylan turned and caught a wooden plank that had slipped from inside the wagon, saving it from hitting Alexis' head. He didn't make a big deal out of it. "How's the leg?"
I shrugged, accidentally choosing to kick it around as if making sure it works, "Fine. How's Connor?"
Dylan laughed. "His pride is still bruised, but he'll get over it." He picked up a cardboard box full of detached bits of Alexis' project. "Am I right to start walking stuff over?" he asked.
Alexis nodded, rounding a wheelbarrow and lifting it, "Yep. Let's go." I grabbed one of the wagons and rolled it behind me, my other hand holding a rolled-up painting canvas. Dylan had longer strides then us, and when he was out of earshot, Alexis spoke, "So you know Dylan?"
I gritted my teeth, "He was part of that group who harassed that boy I told you about a few weeks ago," I informed, "How do you know him?"
"He's in my Visual Art and Photography class," Alexis informed, "Creative dude believe it or not."
"You're friends with him?" It sounded harsher then I intended, but the fact that Alexis may be friends with him made me feel salty.
Alexis' smirk looked evil. "He's an ex if you must know," she informed. The new information stopped me in my tracks, leaving my mouth a gap. She stopped her wheelbarrow to look over her shoulder, "Is someone jealous, Landon?" she asked putting a hand on her hip.
I grunted, suddenly glad Alexis was blind, so she couldn't see the blush I felt or my slightly angered expression. "I'm not jealous. It's just… why would you date someone like him?"
She scoffed as I caught up with her, her hands still on her hips. "'Someone like him'?" Alexis laughed, "Do you even know him?"
"I've heard some nasty things," I replied as Alexis picked up the wheelbarrow and walked beside me, "Amada has gotten harassed by his group, you know about that?"
Alexis nodded, "I do."
"And he's like the leader of his little gang the Delinquents," I added.
Alexis nodded again, "At the moment, yes."
"What else is there to know?" I asked.
Alexis hummed for a moment as if considering something, before saying, "Well, he's a Foster kid, who's bounced around homes across the United States before he landed here," she informed, "And he got separated from his sister because of his anger issues and sudden outbursts." I was taken aback by the information as she added, "You could know that not everything is okay at his current home, but he doesn't want to pack up and move again, so he spends all his time out of the house with his, what're they called, 'delinquent' friends." Alexis stopped walking, placing the wheelbarrow down gently and adding in a softer tone, "There's to know he's gentle, people feel safe around him, he's bashful, and a sensitive guy determined to appear tough so that no one messes with his friends. And," she folded her arms, her eyes turning cold, "There's also to know that he has never actually committed a prison-worthy crime, none of them have. They're a bunch of kids. They just call themselves the Delinquents to scare people away from them, and because their former Mother Duck was one. None of them have rap sheets."
I sighed through my nose as I looked over to Dylan, who had made it to the stairwell and was on his way up. "How does that excuse all the crap he's done?" I countered. All I had were words, rumours from my classmates and or flatmates, and now Alexis' words, both of which contrasted with each other.
"He's not a perfect guy," Alexis admitted, "But he's not this cold-hearted, manipulative shithead everyone seems to think he is." Her tone was turning passive, despite this, she maintained a sense of maturity as she added, "We went our separate ways because our relationship plateaued, there wasn't anything valuable we could give each other as a couple anymore. But as friends, he's a cool guy." She lifted the wheelbarrow again and made it across the last stretch of space to the stairs, "You don't have anything to worry about with him. I trust him."
I felt a pang of guilt sitting in my stomach, but it wasn't strong enough for me to excuse what I've seen him be a part of. But my feelings were pushed aside as I voiced, "How're you getting the wheelbarrow up the stairs?" I asked.
*
I had some of my classes in the art room. It was a large rectangular space filled with ten oval tables, each with up to a dozen chairs. It wasn't a clean space like the other classrooms, any countertop, desk surface and sections of the floor were splattered in bright paints, dried up clay and an unusually large glob of hot glue that had dried into the floor. The walls were initially a dark blue, but years of teaching had changed the pattern to random splotches of acrylics that created a chaotic masterpiece. Despite this, any large space of wall was decorated by works, be it large canvases or photo collages, and a single pillar, a little off centred to the room, was covered in hand prints of different colours and sizes, some overlapping while others had been left alone.
To the right of the room were half a dozen large wooden shelves stocked with clay works, piles of paper, tubes of paint, pencil tins overflowing with different types of lead pencils and other art supplies. It was mainly a more spacious, well-lit version of Alexis' garden shed studio.
Dylan made a loud whistle, which bounced around the room, as he observed some in-progress artworks sitting on easels. "Some of these are nice," he commented, tilting his head at one of them.
Alexis and I were starting to unpack her bits and pieces, "What class?" she called.
He leaned close to some of the artworks, "Uhh, these ones are from year 9," he said.
Alexis perked up, "Landon, go see if any of them are our friends' works," she instructed pointing towards Dylan's voice.
I placed one of the heavier boxes on the ground, "Do you need a hand with this?"
"Nah, I got this. Go see!" She pulled out a trumpet from beneath a fluffy rug, her fingers running over the different shapes it was made up of.
I pocketed my hands and walked over to the easels. They were in a circle with eight set up altogether, there was a side table in the centre that I imagined was where subjects to paint went, but currently, it was empty. None of the pieces depicted the same thing. One was a vibrant pink with no discernible purpose, another was of a graveyard with zombies sticking their arms out of the ground, and one had just been painted black, none of the works had been completed.
I stood by Dylan as he looked for a name on one canvas. "Interesting this one," he stated when he sensed my presence behind him. It was an abstract piece using watercolours and faded blues to depict a pale tree, the further out its branches travelled the fainter the colours became. What caught our eyes, however, was a very distinct noose hanging from a lower branch, apparently influenced by an invisible wind.
"Kinda ominous," I countered looking for the name tag.
"I doubt Mr Beasley would've let this guy paint this without asking questions," Dylan said, his hands were behind his back as he leaned close to the bottom right corner of the page, "I'm sure Mia Ranks was just feeling particularly moody when making this concept." My eyes widened as I looked at the signature at the bottom, it was in Mia's cursive handwriting. "How is little Mia Ranks these days?" Dylan asked.
I crossed my arms, "She's fine." A moment of silence formed between us, I tried to fill it, "So you dated Alexis?" I asked.
Dylan nodded. "For a while, yeah," he gave me a sideways glance, a sceptical look befalling him, "You're not a jealous boyfriend or something are you?" he asked.
I quickly shook my head, the moment I started the movement I immediately regretted it because of how exaggerated I felt. "No, just friends," I assured.
He tilted his head at my reaction. "You sure?" he teased.
Alexis was suddenly standing between us, wrapping one arm around our shoulders, "What's happening boys? How's it all looking?"
"Pretty decent actually," Dylan informed, "Year 9 has really upped in quality."
"You can usually tell who'll continue with the course and who'll drop it," Alexis stated, "What're we looking at?"
The way Alexis and Dylan spoke to each other was comfortable, he seemed to understand how to talk to her about art and how to describe what was before them in that whimsical way Alexis always bugged me to do. Alexis tilted her head at Mia's art as if seeing it with her own eyes, "Fascinating. I didn't know Mia had a great interest in painting," she stated, dropping her arms from our shoulders, "Although she's got a good memory and stuff, she probably just copied it from somewhere. Have either of you ever seen it before?"
Dylan considered it for a moment, "Kinda like the Hangman's Tree from the Fine Arts of America. Otherwise, it looks pretty original."
Alexis smirked, elbowing me in the side, "May need to have a little discussion with the little prodigy."
I nodded, not that she could see, and asked Dylan, "Are any of these works yours?"
Dylan looked around the classroom. "It's been a while since I've been in this room…" he muttered as he stepped away from the circle of easels to scan the walls. "Oh, there's one." He pointed to the front of the classroom, where the teacher's desk and the whiteboard was. In the corner above the sinks was a blown up black and white picture of an old man smoking while sitting on the curb. There was a lot of character in a single image; the man's face unshaven, a beer bottle by his feet, his clothes layered, and pinned prominently on his left breast were several military medals. The solider wasn't facing the camera.
It annoyed me how much I liked the photo.
Alexis folded her arms, "The Street Wise collection?" she asked.
Dylan nodded. "Yeah, that guy on Tergal Street, umm… Lieutenant Alec."
Alexis nodded, "I liked Erica Sisley. She smelt better."
Dylan and I shared a smile, "From anyone else, Alexis, that sounds weird."
She shrugged, "I'm blind and a cute redhead, no one cares."
He laughed, "Right." He looked to the equipment we had brought up from the ground, resting his hands against the back of his head to adopt that similar cobra stance as a few weeks ago, "Do you need help setting this up or anything?"
Alexis shook her head, "Nah, you can head out, Dylan. I'll take advantage of Landon's manpower for this." Dylan chuckled as he dropped his arms, "Well, nice seeing you again newbie," he held a hand out to shake. I felt peer pressured into taking it, he had a firm grip. When he took his hand back, he turned to Alexis and placed his hand on her elbow, prompting her to turn as if looking him in the eye, "Talk to you later, Rusty." He messed up her hair, gave me a nod of acknowledgement before pocketing his hands and leaving.
"Rusty?" I asked when the door closed.
"Again, a cute redhead. Nicknames are inevitable," she informed winking, "I haven't been in this room in ages. Which way is my stuff?" Alexis took off her bell and started chiming it, finding her equipment before I could offer my assistance. She placed her bell on the floor as she kneeled to one of the boxes.
The installation took ten minutes to put together. Alexis had manipulated metals, fabrics, plastics and other textures to fit together like a puzzle. The end result was a curved wall of surfaces with the viewer standing in the centre, taking in the colours and able to reach a hand out to touch beads and jewellery in one section and the cold metal of a trumpet in another. "You get a better perspective if you close your eyes," Alexis informed.
I complied, closing my eyes and reaching my hand out. It was almost abrasive running my hand blindly against the wall of different things, occasionally opening my eyes in fear there may be razor blades or something sharp. As I continued to circle around, my hand accidentally touched Alexis' face since she was standing behind me. I stumbled back, knocking loose some paper.
Alexis scrunched up her nose where I had touched her, "You good?" she asked, hearing the paper and my sudden yelp when the whole installation wobbled.
I didn't remove my hands until I was sure it wasn't going to fall over. "Yes…" I said uncertainly, "I'm good."
She reached one of her legs forward and tapped at the ground, finding where the paper had fallen and bent down to scoop them up. "Be a bit subtler when trying to destroy my installation," she teased holding out the papers for me to replace. I sighed as I fitted the paper back into its little tray. I was amused by what was written on the paper. It was aged looking paper, coffee stained with light brown cursive ink, it looked like something profound was written there, but instead it there were phrases like, 'I think; therefore, I am confused,' and 'Where's the line between hungry and hangry?'
"So how come you have to set it up here?" I asked, leafing through the papers and smiling at some other strange sentences.
"The competition is in New York. Since I'm not going to New York for an art contest," she crossed her arms, "they send out reps throughout the holidays to look at the artwork in person and bring photos back to New York to compare and read their notes and whatnot." She stretched her arms above her head, "You good to go?" Alexis asked, disrupting my reading, "I gotta start packing stuff."
I nodded, "Yep. Let's go." I replaced the paper and linked arms with Alexis as we left the art room.