Page 21 of Saint Céline
“Because it might be ugly.”
“So?”
“So then you’ll know.”
She tilted her head. “Know what?”
“That I’m bad at it.”
Katherine looked at me like that answer made no sense at all. “You can’t be bad at something before you do it.”
I almost told her she was wrong. I knew plenty of ways to be bad before trying. Bad daughter. Bad student. Bad quiet. Bad loud. Bad when my father was drunk enough to need something to blame. Instead, I took the pencil.
At first, I only drew lines. The edge of the desk. The curve of the lamp. Katherine’s hand where it rested on the open book. I did not mean to draw her hand, but it was there, pale fingers curled loosely against the page.
Katherine went quiet. That made me nervous.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I know.”
“Is it bad?”
“No.”
I looked up. Her eyes stayed on the paper. “It looks like my hand,” she said.
“It is your hand.”
“No, I mean…” She leaned closer, almost frowning. “It looks more like my hand than my own hand does.”
I did not understand that. But I understood from her voice that it was a compliment. Warmth spread through my chest.
She reached for the paper, then stopped before touching it. “Can I keep it?”
“It’s just a sketch.”
“I know.”
“It’s not finished.”
“I still want it.”
No one had ever wanted anything I made before. I gave it to her. She slid it carefully between the pages of one of her books, as if it were something worth saving.
By the time my mother came to collect me, the sky outside had turned deep blue and the library lamps had been switched on. Katherine and I sat on the rug near the fireplace, surrounded by open books. She had explained cell membranes to me using a half-eaten cookie, two buttons from her cardigan, and a pencil case. I still did not understand cell membranes, but I understood that she loved making me try.
My mother stopped in the doorway. Her expression softened before she could hide it. “There you are.”
Katherine sat up quickly. “She didn’t break anything.”
My mother looked alarmed. “I should hope not.”
“I didn’t,” I said.
