The Art of Loving Libby Green by Bellebird James

Author:Bellebird James [James, Bellebird]
Language: eng
Format: epub

It’s my first day back at school after being suspended. The high of walking Libby home after the party rages; we’ve texted nonstop. I sent her pics of my visit to SOFA and she loved them so much, she and her mum visited the gallery. Shamefully, I’ve become glued to my phone for FOMO – a fear of missing out on a text from her. Each one is a warm surprise, like I see life through a new filter that masks the fact that me and Bear are two tiny, lonely specs at the end of a deserted road that leads nowhere.

I ride towards school past the beach; black clouds, choppy waves, a freeze in the wind that numbs my fingers. At the lights, my phone beeps and, like every time Libby’s name appears, my body tingles, excited.

I open the picture she’s sent, of a detailed watercolour pencil drawing of a heart, each anatomical part layered in popping colours. She’s got mad talent.

Work number six for my portfolio. What number are you at?

Since I avoided her question about my portfolio and where I’m at with it, she’s been harassing me to not give up applying to SOFA. Like a cheerleader, she sends me GIFs of dancers holding pom-poms with captions that say, don’t give up, or you got this, or you can do it. She’s convinced SOFA wouldn’t turn down the right artist. I want to get swept up in her enthusiasm. I’ll admit it’s rubbed off a little; combined with my new filter set on optimistically enthusiastic, I want to believe her. What she doesn’t know is the extent of my criminal convictions. On the SOFA application form, I’d have to tick the box admitting I have a criminal conviction, and that would be the end of it.

I turn off into town, passing a neon orange crash sign, a colour I can’t use anymore. Emergency vehicles block the street, and two paramedics rush around a body too still beside a beat-up car. My body shivers and a familiar sting hits the back of my eyes. I’m hammered by memories of Mum, and I’m reminded she didn’t get to live out her dream to finish art school or see me live out mine. Like she’s here cheering me on, the crash is a reminder that life is unpredictable, and there are no guarantees – that I shouldn’t give up on SOFA, not at least until I can say I’ve fought hard.

I text Libby, surprised by how amped I feel. SOFA comp is on. We back, baby!

Her reply: YAYYYY!!!!! And of course, a GIF, more pom-pom cheerleading; the girl is obsessed, I’m loving her vibe.

At school, Mr Campbell’s white station wagon is parked in the lot. I push my bike into the bike rack. People watch and whisper.

Pinned to the side of the administration block is a banner: Join the Ball Committee. Katie stands behind the desk, talking to a senior. “We need all the help we can get.” Her voice is upbeat.

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