“Isn’t he great?” she said. “I wish I could play an instrument.”
“I’m sure you can, if you really want to,” I said.
She shook her head. “I took guitar lessons for a few months, but I was so bad the teacher quit on me.”
“Well, what about singing? I heard you just now—you’re good!”
Her eyes bulged. “No, no, I’m the worst singer ever, Norah! I mean, I love to sing, but I’m terrible—Oh. Excuse me!”
Griffin had come out into the hall, causing Cait to race off.
“Hey,” he said to me, smiling.
“Hi,” I answered. “I can’t stay long; I’m doing Art Club.”
“That’s awesome, Norah. You should do Art Club.”
I smiled back. “You wanted to ask me something?” I reminded him.
“Right. So the band really likes the griffin drawing. And we were wondering. Um.”
“Yes?”
“Well, if you’d maybe design a sort of band logo. Since you’re amazing at drawing creatures.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. But—”
“We’re called Crackin’.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know. Like the beast.”
“Oh, you mean Kraken? Like the sea monster?”
“Yeah.” He smiled shyly. “The name was my idea.”
“Cool. That’s a really good band name.”
“You think so?”
“Definitely. And it goes with Hydra.” Erg. Why did I say that? What a dumb thing to say!
But Griffin nodded. “I guess that’s what made me think of it: giant sea monsters, squids, tentacles. But with suckers, so not like norahs.”
“Right. Totally not like norahs.”
“Anyway.” He seemed a bit confused. “So . . . would you do some sketches? And then we’ll pick one?”
“Sure.” I held out my hand for him to shake. “It’ll be fun.”
And then something terrible happened: Instead of shaking my hand, he gave me a hug.
GIRL TALK
The hug confused me. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Harper that nothing was “going on” between Griffin and me, at least not in a romantic, dramatic Greek god sort of way. But I’d also been wondering if maybe he liked me back, just the teeniest, tiniest little bit. Because: the hand-holding? Noticing I was a lefty? Being so interested in norahs? I couldn’t help adding it all up and thinking that maybe, possibly, this was a back-and-forth crush situation.
And yet . . . a hug? That’s what people do when they’re trying to cheer you up. You don’t hug someone you crush on. You hug people in the hospital, the way the nurses hugged me at Phipps. I had a ton of hug experience these last two years, so I knew what hugs meant. I mean, I didn’t know what I wanted from Griffin—but it wasn’t a hug.
When I got back to Art Club, I thought Harper would demand a bunch of details. But she didn’t even seem interested. She sat hunched over a huge poster board, sketching away while Astrid was peeking over her shoulder.
“Too abstract,” Astrid was telling her. “No one will get it, Harper.”
“No one will get what?” I asked.
Astrid fluttered her smeary purple eyelids at me. “What she’s communicating about Overcoming Challenges. It’s for a mural, so it’s all about communicating. And what are you doing here, Norah?”
“I signed up for this club,” I announced cheerily. “On Tuesdays.”
“You did? I thought you were doing Bugs.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Well, you can’t do a mural if you’re here just once a week.”
“Fine with me.”
“And it’s already incredibly crowded in this studio.”
“That’s okay. I’m small, so I don’t take up much room. Can I sit here?” I pulled over a chair next to Harper, who sneaked a smile at me. “Hey, that’s a really cool sketch. Can you tell me what it’s about?”
“Sure,” Harper exclaimed.
Astrid grunted and stomped off.
“Bugs?” Harper asked, giggling.
I had to laugh too. “Yeah, I know. It was just something I told her once.”
“Anyway, thanks for the save,” Harper murmured. “She’s driving me bananas.”
“I can see why. Just ignore her, Harper.”
“Yeah, I wish I could. But she’s who decides which murals go up. And I really hope one of them is mine.”
I didn’t want to say this, but I kind of thought Astrid was right about Harper’s sketch. I mean, it didn’t communicate anything to me, either. Just shapes: a big round one on a big triangle, and a lot of squiggly bits up and down the sides. Battling cancer was nothing like squiggly bits, or those shapes.
Although if you asked me to draw a picture of what it was like, a picture that would “communicate” to everyone who didn’t understand, I probably couldn’t do a whole lot better.
* * *
When Art Club was over, Harper and I waited in the school parking lot for Dad to drive us home. Normally, Harper had to take the late bus home after Art Club, so I was glad we could give her a ride.
We shared a squished granola bar Harper had found at the bottom of her backpack, and watched Aria run circles around the school. Aria was so tall and strong-looking that I couldn’t look away. What must it feel like to be so athletic? I wondered. Every time she passed us, she gave a little wave, while Harper shouted, “GO, ARIA” and “WOO” and other cheers. The whole time this was happening, Harrison was standing over by the gym doors, watching. I’d never noticed before that he liked Aria, but the way he turned his head every time she zipped by, you could tell he thought she was some kind of superhero. And to be honest, I almost agreed with that opinion.
All of a sudden, I heard a familiar squeal. Thea, dressed in a neon green soccer jersey, was sprinting across the parking lot. Toward Griffin, who was walking by himself as he carried his bass.
As soon as she caught up to him, she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking the bass to the sidewalk. Then she squealed again, and started jumping around like a hot popcorn kernel.
I couldn’t watch.
Harper noticed my reaction. “Who’s that girl? You know her?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, that’s Thea. She’s in my math class, and she’s friends with Astrid.”
“Huh. Well, she really likes that boy, obviously.”
I
