The Art of being Strangers

xvi.

I left the coffee shop on my own.

After Basil unexpectedly left the stall, I tried looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Leaving the bathroom, I found myself faced with Esther. She didn't say anything, just stared like she was waiting for me to say something. Did she hear me talk to Basil? No, it wasn't possible. She was in the women's bathroom the whole time. I think. I could tell that she applied new makeup, but she still had some mascara smeared under her eye. It must've taken her some time to get her makeup ready, so it was very unlikely for her to just wait in front of the men's bathroom door the whole time. I looked at her makeup again, but I didn't want to point the smeared mascara. Marigold will probably tell her about it anyway.

As soon as we arrived back at the table, I told Marigold and Esther I had to leave. I invented some crappy excuse so they wouldn't ask why. I just needed to get to school already. And find Basil. Yeah, I needed to find Basil so I could talk to him. That was my priority for the moment.

When I finally made it to school, I didn't expect to find Basil in the halls. As I quietly entered, I paid attention everywhere. The halls kept quiet. Everybody was in their classes except me – and Marigold and Esther too because we ditched. There were still about twenty-five minutes left of lessons so I started making my way through the halls, searching for Basil and hoping I wouldn't be faced with a teacher.

Of course, I had no luck finding him. It's not like I wasn't expecting this. History repeated itself. I roamed through the halls until the only hall left was the one with Basil's paintings. There was still a peak of hope left inside me. Maybe he was here again. It would make everything easier if he was.

The hall was now right behind the corner. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and made my way.

"Creek?" I hear a voice call.

I brushed a sleeve over my glasses, and my eyes adjusted. I felt disappointed as I understood that the voice didn't belong to Basil.

"Ansel?" What are you doing here?" I ask surprised.

I could see a shadow – no, that's not right – I could see Ansel lifting Basil's painting off the wall. I froze, staring at him.

"What are you doing with Basil's painting? What are you even doing here? You're supposed to attend chemistry. Don't you have a test?"

Ansel was now staring at me, the painting still clutched tightly to his chest. Even if the halls were dark, I could see the painting well. It was my favorite one – the creek painting.

"Woah, Woah, steady on. Too many questions at once," Ansel said, a small smile on his face.

"That's not an answer."

"Geez, chill out. Some random guy threw some water at it while I was passing the hall. I couldn't just watch and wait for the painting to get destroyed, could I?

I looked closely at the painting he held to his chest.
"It's not wet," I announce.

"Of course not, idiot. I just wiped the water off. See?" he says, taking a wet napkin from his pocket, still holding the painting in his other hand.

I looked at the napkin. It looked wet, as he mentioned. Instead of asking more questions about that, I realized something. "Why are you not in class, then? You had a test."

"Yeah... About that. I was on my way to the bathroom, actually. Turns out the test was way harder than I've expected – and I call myself good at Chemistry," he laughs, putting the napkin back in his pocket. Then, he reaches into his other pocket and takes out what looks like a phone. "I was just leaving the class so I could look at my phone for answers," Ansel continued, smiling dumbly.