Painted Blind Read Free

His eyes narrowed, and in that momentary glance, he looked past the ratty jeans and oversized T-shirt. He saw Venus, and it made him clamp his jaw tight and glare. Rain pelted the sidewalk between us, but I couldn’t pull myself away until he turned and disappeared around the corner.
    Absently I walked into the bank, unable to free my mind from the angry set of his jaw. I set an envelope of Euros on the counter and saw surprise in the teller’s eyes when she looked at my face. She made a quick glance out the window and back to me again.
    “It’s not me.” My voice was unconvincing. I studied the dark spots made by the rain on my shoes. I didn’t hear her reply. My mind saw only the guy who hated me without even knowing my name.
     
    I was doomed. There was no other way to put it. By morning everyone would know about the billboard. Tonight I had to explain to my dad. Maybe if I told him what happened before he saw the billboard, he would understand. On the way home I gripped the steering wheel with both hands to keep them from shaking.
    I watched out the upstairs window for Dad’s pickup on the street. Soon a truck came into view, but it wasn’t his. It was a company truck driven by the foreman. It pulled slowly into the driveway, and before it came to complete stop, my dad jumped out of the passenger seat and headed toward the front door with long, determined steps. He knew. It was too late. I ran to my room.                                                       
    The footsteps coming upstairs were hard and fast. A moment later my bedroom door was thrown open with so much force it ricocheted off the stopper and came back to slap my dad’s ready hand. His eyes narrowed on me in wrath so fierce, my knees actually wobbled.
    “I rear-ended a Volvo on Main Street,” he growled. He didn’t have to say where. I knew it was somewhere around Church Street, in full view of the Venus billboard. I didn’t know which was worse—his fury or the humiliation of knowing he saw it. “You promised me.” Disappointment made his voice crack.
    Tears pushed at my eyes. “I can explain…”
    He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Find a ride to school tomorrow. I’m taking your car.” Then he turned into the hallway, and I rushed after him.
    “I can’t go back to school. Everyone will be talking about me.”
    “That is your own fault! You will go to school. No excuses.” It was pointless to argue.
    I went back to my room and threw myself on the bed. Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of my life.
     
    It was probably suicidal to disobey him, but I made no attempt to find a ride to school. A slow and painful death sounded better than school.
    Mid-morning he returned and caught me sitting on the couch. “I thought I told you to find a ride to school,” he said.
    I tossed the remote onto the ottoman. “I didn’t.”
    “Get your shoes on.” Dad flicked off the television. “I’m taking you.”
    Reluctantly, I gathered my books and gave my teeth a quick brushing before following him out the door. He dropped me in front of the school and left me to face my fate alone. I waited until the Subaru was indiscernible down the street before I turned and pushed myself through the door to the office.
    The secretary wrote out my admit slip with raised eyebrows. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t have to. All her condemnation was right there in her pursed lips.
    I grabbed my slip and went to the senior hall. I was fifteen minutes late for third period, and I was in no hurry to face Savannah. As I stood fiddling with the combination of my locker, a boy named Rory Keene came around the corner wearing a bright green lanyard dangling a rubber chicken, the hall pass from our third period class.
    Years ago Rory lived across the street from me. The first snowfall each year, we built a fort against the picket fence of his front yard and waged war on the neighborhood. Just