The Curiosities by Susan Gloss

Author:Susan Gloss
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Paige

PIECE: Frank Stella, Polar Coordinates II, circa 1980. Offset lithograph and screen print, Edition: 31/100.

Trent left before daybreak, like he’d been doing whenever he spent the night with Paige, which was often. He’d gotten a job as a barback at one of the hotels downtown, and they met up most evenings when he got off work. Today, when Trent slipped out before the first whisper of morning light made its way through the windows, Paige stretched out under the covers and fell back into a satisfied sleep. As she often did after making love, she dreamed of making art. Colors and lines mingled and intersected until she could see, clearly, a finished work. This morning, she pictured feathers, in various stages of floating and falling, all delicate veins and tufts in various shades of blue.

Based on the complexity, it was something she’d need to create on one of the table presses up at school. She dressed, grabbed her backpack, and went downstairs, hoping no one else was up. A vision this clear was rare, and Paige wanted to get to the studio before the vision faded or got mucked up with the rest of the day’s sensory input.

On the first floor, the foyer and living room were still dark. But down the hall she could see the lights on in Nell’s office. She heard a muffled sound, like a hiccup, and realized that someone was crying. She had planned to go out the side door, but changed her mind when she realized she’d have to walk past the office. She took a few slow steps in the other direction, but stopped when her foot landed on a creaky floorboard just before she reached the front door.

Nell’s voice called out from down the hall. “Hello?”

Paige turned in the direction of the voice and saw that Nell had stuck her head out from the office. Even in the dim light, Paige could see deep-set circles under her eyes.

“It’s just me,” Paige said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” Nell said. The streaks on her cheeks and the messy ponytail, in place of her usual put-together look, suggested otherwise. Paige felt awkward seeing her this way, both for her own sake and for Nell’s. She looked away, focusing instead on a large, framed lithograph print on the hallway wall behind Nell. The print—of bright geometric shapes overlapping in shades of blue, green, and orange, as if drawn with a protractor—was one Paige had noticed before. She’d assumed it was a copy, but now that she was close enough, she could see that the signature of the artist, Frank Stella, was done in pencil.

Nell sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “You’re up early. When I was your age, I don’t think I ever got up before ten, unless I had a test or something. Definitely not on a Saturday.”

“I need to go up to school to work on something.” Paige shifted her backpack from one shoulder to the other. She hoped Nell would catch the urgency in her voice.

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