Sabrine + Dylan

Maybe, Baby

The letters on Sabrine's math handout swirled in her brain, drifting off the paper and creating a word she wished she could ignore.

Divorce. Divorce. Divorce.

Surely, that wasn't a possibility her parents were exploring, was it?

She shook her head to clear it. Right now, she just had to solve the stupid problem. Seven... to the power of three... distributed to four times twelve... Or was she supposed to distribute before solving the exponent?

She sighed in frustration. Right now, the last thing she wanted was to be working on a math problem, but what was the alternative?

Sabrine's mind flashed to her mother walking out last night, to her father's glazed stares. She shuddered.

Math it is.

Still, the numbers didn't make the pounding in her skull any more bearable. She bit her cheek. Maybe if...

Donald Sommer sat diagonally from her, and Sabrine had a clear view of his paper. It was only her second day, but most teachers had already made clear that he was the smartest student in the school. She managed to jot down a few of his answers before Donald felt her stare and turned to her scowling.

"Sorry," she mouthed, but he turned away with a "humph!" anyway.

She really was sorry. It wasn't her fault none of this made sense and that she couldn't focus and that she had to-

Cheat.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Is that what's going on?

Sabrine cut the thought off before returning to her paper. Her head hurt too much to focus so she decided to write in random numbers. Really, how much could one handout affect her score?

After she turned it in, though, Mr. Urales sent her a questioning glare. "Done already,, Miss Rodgers?"

Sabrine nodded. She was the first one done, as dread and embarrassment made their way across her stomach. Still, Sabrine managed to feign confidence on the walk back to her desk.

She put her head down for what felt like hours as the rest of the students silently turned their pages. Dylan tried catching her eye once, but he only reminded her of the conversation they had had out in the parking lot, a topic she was trying to forget all together, so she turned away. The clock hung on the front wall of the classroom was being covered by a girl who had decided to wear her head in an outrageously high bun, so when Sabrine got impatient, she pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time. When she saw the time, she was hit with a pang of annoyance; it had only been seven minutes since she had turned in her test.

Mr. Urales cleared his throat loudly, demanding Sabrine's attention. "Rodgers..." he practically growled, at the same time that Sabrine realized she hadn't been discreet with her phone at all.

She sighed. She walked her phone to his outstretched hand. She sat and looked out the window, already horribly bored.

And then she gasped. It was the painter, outside the window. What was he doing?

Before she could think twice about what she was doing, her hand was in the air and Mr. Urales was calling on her.

"May I go to the bathroom?"

The older man grunted and nodded, probably relieved to have the nuisance out of his class. Sabrine didn't really care the reason, she just ran out before he had a chance to change his mind. 

*

Sabrine approached the painter cautiously, making sure to stay away from the window so that she wouldn't be spotted by anyone from the classroom. She wished she had thought this out a little more; how was she going to alert him of her presence without startling him or sounding... weird?

Sabrine thought about walking away, but just like back in the courtyard, she was mesmerized by the way he painted. Maybe it was the way he looked so sure of his next stroke, or the way his face was so concentrated. She took a second to admire the painting, a meadow of yellow flowers and tall grass covered the canvas, a thin stripe of blue sky at the top.

She sighed. The painter, of course, heard her do so.

"You like my paintings?" he asked, without ever turning to her. She noticed his voice was light, like if he were elsewhere.

"I love them."

The boy didn't respond, and Sabrine didn't blame him. She was barely listening to herself speak, in fact. Her mind was fixated on the canvas before them.

Then a thought occurred to her; By the way, I saw your finished painting. In the courtyard."

The painter lowered his paintbrush and palette, turning to her slowly like he didn't want to take his eyes off the painting. 

"I'm glad you got to see it. What did you think?"

"Well, it was absolutely beautiful."

After the word left her mouth, Sabrine distorted her face in dissatisfaction. That wasn't the right word, she knew. What was it then?

Before she could offer an alternative, however, the painter spoke.

"Thank you. It's only because I had a beautiful muse."

Sabrine's heart stopped in her chest.

"You- you- Thank you!" she laughed, the butterflies in her stomach out of control now. 

The boy only smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling before turning back to his field as if he hadn't just made Sabrine crumble in the most absolute way.

She was content with sitting to the side and watching him paint in silence. After a few minutes she realized her eyes weren't on him anymore, but the canvas. She noticed he had begun to add in a figure and Sabrine couldn't help but blush.

In the bottom right corner, enveloped almost completely in flowers, was Sabrine. She was in her school uniform, laying still, an arm reaching for the sky, her face covered in by grass and daisies.

The bell rang soon after, startling Sabrine. She gathered herself and said goodbye to the painter, who nodded back. As she made her way back to the classroom, she couldn't help but feel relieved that Mr. Urales- who was out for her blood, she was convinced- wouldn't be around to glare and sigh in annoyance and point a pencil in her direction to get her to be quiet. And when she walked into the classroom, she realized he wasn't the only one who was missing; Dylan's seat was empty.

She was grateful for that, too. She didn't want to think about her family. Just as her head hit her desk, she thought she heard her name.

"Sarah?"

"No, S...Sardine?"

"Sabrina!"

"Sasha?"

Well, it sounded like some girls were trying to guess her name.

"Sabrine," said a half-familiar voice that hadn't spoken before.

"Oh, yes!" agreed the other three girls. "Sabrine! Sabrine!"

Four girls were clustered near the back, three of them smiling and waving her over. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she approached them. The second day was already starting off better than the day before.

"Hello!" she offered.

One of the girls, who had fair skin and even lighter hair, spoke first. "Hi! I'm Circe."

A dark-skinned girl spoke next. "I'm Perdita." Then, pointing at a girl identical to her, "That's my sister Romola."

Sabrine smiled, making sure to remember that Perdita was the one with big, coiled hair, as opposed to Romola's close-cropped one.

They turned to the fourth girl, who sat unbothered and unresponsive, eyes glued to the book in front of her. Sabrine's eyes widened in recognition. The sour-face girl who seemed to refuse to give up her name was the same one who had given Sabrine instructions on how to get to class the day before.

Suddenly self-conscious, Sabrine swept a piece of hair behind her ear.

After a gentle jab from Circe, the girl sighed and looked up from her book.

"I'm Vienna," she said curtly.

Sabrine almost recoiled in embarrassment. She obviously didn't want Sabrine here.

Still, Sabrine swallowed her uneasiness and waved a hand. "Hello, I'm Sabrine. And I think we already met, haven't we, Vienna?"

She felt herself turn red when, instead of answering her question, Vienna flipped another page in her book.

"So, Sabrine," Circe began, clearly trying to dissipate the tension, "you're new, aren't you?"

"Yes, we moved here a couple-"

"That's great!" Perdita interrupted. "So you have no friends?"

"Well, no, not yet."

Romola slapped her sister's arm. "That's not how you're supposed to ask that," she chastised. "What she meant was," she started, turning to Sabrine, "we wanna be your friends. If it's okay with you, obviously."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! It would be great! Circe said. "Wouldn't it, Vienna?" she added slowly.

Vienna raised her gaze to meet Sabrine's before turning back to her book coldly. "I don't see why."

"Why, not!" Circe interjected.

Vienna didn't look up again, focusing her glare on the words in her book.

Sabrine forced a smile, trying not to let the girls see how uncomfortable she was. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds great."

*

For blissful moments- sometimes for hours at a time-Sabrine would forget about Hemington. She'd forget about the screaming matches at home and about how Margot's lips would bleed on the way to school because she'd pick at them to stop from crying.

Vienna had yet to have a proper conversation with Sabrine but Circe, Romola, and Perdita were very helpful. Of course, Sabrine hadn't told them exactly what was going on at home, but they knew she was stressed. They'd keep her distracted by gossiping and joking and painting her fingernails. After finally giving up on prodding her for answers about what was wrong, Dylan, on their walks to the freshman wing after school, proved to be a good distraction, too, though his motivations were much more selfish.

"I just find it hard to believe that you don't know who I am, darling," he told her once, before going into an overly-detailed story about the time he had rescued an entire family from a flaming apartment complex.

Sabrine didn't believe a word he said, but she kept that to herself.

The one that was the best with the distractions, however, was the painter. During every free period she had, she would run out to the woods and watch him paint in complete silence. Then, she would go home and lay in her bed, wishing she had tried to start a conversation and deciding on what to ask him next time she saw him. Then, when she would see him again, she would be too entranced to remember her list of questions.

The weekend came and went, Sabrine barely having time to catch her breath before the next Monday rolled around. Sabrine sighed in relief when the final school bell rang. She ran out of the classroom, headed directly to Margot once again. Usually, she and Dylan would walk to the freshman wing before splitting up when Dylan was mobbed,, or Sabrine insisted he leave so she could pick up Margot. Today, however, Dylan hadn't been in class at all, despite Sabrine seeing his car in the parking lot, so she walked out alone. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she could have sworn Vienna muttered something as she pushed past her to leave the classroom.

What was her deal, anyway? Now that Sabrine searched her memories, Vienna hadn't been pleasant during their first meet up, either.

Sabrine huffed. The day had been going fine. In fact, she hadn't even thought about home and-

Well, no, not home. 3101 Avondale Street. She hadn't thought about any of that all day but now Vienna had made her upset and she couldn't stop thinking about it.

As she pushed the doors to the outside open, her step faltered a bit. She caught herself, though, and charged forward, hoping Dylan hadn't seen her notice him.

He had, however, and waved goodbye to the pair of boys he had been speaking to to chase after Sabrine.

"Hey, little darling," he said, falling into step beside her. "Why the pout?"

Sabrine sighed, not even realizing what he had called her. Her mind was lingering on why Vienna had bothered her so much. What had she said? Sabrine tried reaching the word that had buried itself in her mind without any luck.

"Not my day," she said simply. Not my week or year, either, she wanted to add, but decided against the cynicism. Instead, she went with, "I just miss home."

Dylan stared at her like she had spoken in a different language. "School is out. You can go home."

"No, I meant my real home."

Judging by the look on Dylan's face, that didn't clear anything up.

Of course not. Even with all the money she had now, Dylan would earn more in a year than Sabrine would see in her life. He probably grew up in a different house across the country each month, considered whatever city he was visiting at the time his home. Judging Dylan from the short amount of time she knew him, his home was wherever the cars were the fastest, or the TV's were the biggest.

So, instead of trying to explain herself further, Sabrine smiled slightly. "I just meant I have to pick up my sister first."

Dylan smiled like he finally understood. "Ah! Well, you should've said so. I'll come along, then."

They walked together a while, Sabrine taking a second to examine him closer. What called her attention first were his knuckles. They were red, swollen, and slightly b****y. Sabrine wondered if it had anything to do with his absence from class. He had been out all day, and she hadn't seen him at lunch or P.E., either. She opened her mouth to ask what happened, but decided to ask about something that had been tugging at the back of her mind for longer than his b****y knuckles.

"So, the boy you were playing soccer with- against, way back on my first day... You guys are friends?"

The question must have caught Dylan off guard because he missed his next step and fell to his side, holding himself up on his elbow, his cheeks almost as red as his knuckles.

She should have asked about those, instead.

Sabrine tried not to embarrass himself further as she wrapped her fingers around his forearms and-

Either she had overestimated her own strength or underestimated Dylan's weight or maybe it was both because, next thing she knew, she was on the floor next to him, on her hands and knees before buckling under her own weight and rolling onto her backside. With a single glance, the pair began to laugh. What started as embarrassed giggles soon turned into loud, raucous laughter. After the fourth person that walked by and shot them a dirty look, Sabrine cleared her throat to gather herself and stood, leaving Dylan to giggle at the circumstances as if he were remembering a private joke. 

"Are you okay?" she asked, finally snapping him out of it.

Dylan stood on his own and brushed off his jeans- jeans, not the required slacks, Sabrine thought once again, peeved- with a smile before answering, "I know I'm okay. But you aren't."

Sabrine looked at her knees, which were scraped but not bleeding, thankfully. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be fine," she said convincingly.

The smile he gave her was forced, again. She realized, after seeing the fakeness of his expression, that he had been giving her sincere smiles those past few days. But now, he seemed to be forcing both his smile and the lightness of his tone as he said, "I wasn't talking about your knees. I'm talking about the fact that you look all upset again, even though we were having fun. What's up with that?"

Sabrine clenched her jaw. Wow, it's almost like he cares, she thought sarcastically.

Then, as if he had read her mind, Dylan spoke again. "Not that I care. It's just, you're not much fun to be around if you're upset."

Sabrine couldn't help but laugh a little before remembering the circumstances.

If she was going to tell anyone, Circe was the best answer. Romola and Perdita were there, too. Even the guidance counselor seemed like a better option over Dylan at times.

So then why was she even thinking about it? 

"Even if I told you," she said after a moment of thought, "would you even understand?" It wasn't the right answer, she knew, but it was the one she was giving him.

Dylan shrugged once before lowering his gaze back to her knees. "Who's to say? But maybe, baby."

***