Crazy Messy Beautiful by Carrie Arcos

Author:Carrie Arcos
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-11-15T12:23:11+00:00

WE TOGETHER

Callie and I leave the museum and I take her to Milk, a great ice cream place close by. The line behind us is out the door.

“Is the line always this long?” Callie asks.

“Yes. Well, every time I’ve been. I’ve been here a bunch with my dad . . .” My voice trails off. I don’t want to think about my dad because that’ll make me think about how I feel like punching him in the gut. I wonder if he ever took Leslie here. Or were they more discreet? Meeting only in seedy hotels like some cheap cliché. I get a sick feeling. What if they met at my house? I think about how many days I came home after school last year to find Dad already there. Had Leslie been there too? Did she just sneak out a window? Or did she wait until I wasn’t looking to sneak out the front door?

“Hey,” Callie says, waving her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Neruda. You okay?”

I look at her. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You do that a lot. Go somewhere else.”

“I’m just thinking.”

She eyes me like she’s concerned. “About what?”

“Just . . . there’s just some stuff going on with my family.” I don’t really feel like talking about it with her. Everything’s going so well. I don’t want to ruin it.

“Got it. Well, if you need to talk about it . . .”

She offers but she doesn’t push, which I appreciate. I’ll add that to the growing list of things I’m learning about Callie Leibowitz.

“So, what should I get?” she asks.

“I really like the salted caramel macaroon sandwich.”

“Ooh, anything with salted caramel is heaven.” Callie’s eyes scan the large chalkboard menu at the front of the store. The 1950s red, black, and white decor makes it seem as if you’re back in time.

“They have everything!” Callie says.

When we finally get to the front, I decide to try something new and order the Thai tea macaroon ice cream sandwich. She goes for red velvet. As if we’ve timed it perfectly, a family of three gets up from one of the few tables outside just as we exit, and we dart for the available seats.

“Awesome. Now we can people watch,” Callie says. “People are so interesting. You’ve got your dudes”—she nods to three skinny guys, two Latino and one white, across the street—“couples, families. Did you see that cute old couple holding hands in line? I love how no one in LA looks the same. Can you imagine living in a small town where everyone was just like you? No, thanks.”

“Sometimes when I’m out with my sketchbook, I purposely pick people who are totally different from me. I try to draw their story.”

“I know what you mean. When I create my faces, I like to think about what story I’m trying to tell through the image. I didn’t know people did that with paintings. Hey, the Grove’s not far from here, right?” she asks.

“Not too far down the road.” I point in the direction.

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