Chapter 268: An Urgent Need to Pee
The supermarket was a beast with ten floors: first floor had all the small household junk, second floor was packed with stationery, third floor was fruits and veggies central, and the fourth floor was all about underwear. Never made it to the upper floors, but I bet they were loaded with cool stuff.
The stationery here? Top-notch and cheap. Art students and teachers were all over this place.
I grabbed my usual brand, checked what was left at Crystal House, and picked out the colors and amounts I needed. Then I lugged a big bag of stuff to the checkout.
The supermarket had this crazy spiral staircase, with a big open space in the middle for a glass elevator. Ads for different brands were everywhere.
Checkout was pretty chill. The girl at the counter had this super sweet smile, totally adorable.
Her name tag said "Lila Jones." I thought, yeah, that name fits her. As I grabbed my stuff and turned around, I spotted a familiar figure by the escalator on the first floor.
A tall dude was pushing a wheelchair, leaning in to listen to the person in it. The person in the wheelchair was a girl with long hair, a small blanket over her legs.
My heart sank.
Couldn't see their faces clearly from my angle, and they vanished quickly, so I couldn't be sure if it was who I thought it was.
But those broad shoulders, that straight posture, the perfect hair—it was just like the person burned into my memory.
I grabbed my new stuff and bolted towards the escalator. When I got there, it was empty, just a few shoppers with big bags of groceries.
Where'd they go? It only took me a few minutes to get here; they shouldn't have disappeared. Maybe I was wrong, and they were never here. Or maybe I've been too stressed and saw things.
Did I see it wrong? No way, that person was etched in my heart; I couldn't possibly be mistaken.
Helen and Ronan were all about protecting my eyesight because bad vision would mess with a painter's color sense.
As a kid, I did all sorts of eye exercises. Helen was a pro at managing my eye health.
Mistaken identity? No chance.
Was it really Brad? Didn't he say he was busy today, meeting a client, and might be home late? How could he be here pushing a wheelchair?
Who was the person in the wheelchair? Did Brad know any other girls in wheelchairs?
The answer was obvious.
My heart kept sinking, and my limbs felt cold.
Or maybe it was just a coincidence!
Or maybe someone set this up for me to see.
My mind was a mess—bitterness, pain, and the anger of being lied to.
After all that, I suddenly got a grip and smacked my head.
What was I thinking? Brad wouldn't lie to me.
Didn't we agree to talk things out and not jump to conclusions?
Even if it was him, he must have a reason.
Yeah, Brad wouldn't lie to me.
I yanked my phone out of my bag and dialed his number, chanting in my head, "Brad, pick up. Brad, pick up."
The cold, rhythmic beeping went on and on until it turned into a busy signal, and the call cut off because no one answered.
I wandered back to school in a daze, phone in hand, waiting for Brad to call me back.
Usually, Brad would hit me up within five minutes of seeing a missed call. Even if he was swamped, he'd at least shoot me a message on Facebook to let me know he saw it.
But today, ten minutes had passed, and my phone was still dead silent. The last message in our pinned chat on Facebook was from yesterday afternoon, asking if I wanted some fruit.
A wave of unease washed over me.
Even as I walked into Crystal House, my mind was stuck on that tall figure. Was it really Brad? If so, where was he now, and why wasn't he calling me back?
With all this swirling in my head, I couldn't focus on painting. Not wanting to mess up my work, I decided to ditch my brushes and head to Brad's office. Maybe I was wrong, and Brad was just at his desk, buried in a project. Or if he wasn't there, someone else might know where he was.
I was in such a rush that I didn't notice the footsteps outside and ended up crashing into Isla King, a sophomore, as she came in.
She was tiny and got knocked back by me, falling to the ground with her stuff scattering everywhere.
"Jane, why are you in such a hurry?" Isla pouted, rubbing her arm where I bumped her. Her big, watery eyes made her look extra pitiful.
Isla was the only one in her year that Larry raved about. He once told me Isla's painting style was versatile and that she had potential, hinting he might mentor her. But before Larry could say anything, Isla had already started calling me Jane, and she did it with unusual enthusiasm. I tried to stop her a few times but gave up and let her be.
At one point, I wanted to ask Larry how Isla compared to me. But then I thought it was pointless; the art world was full of talent, and asking would just make me look petty.
Lately, Isla had been spending all her free time at Crystal House. Being so young and dedicated to painting already proved Larry's keen eye.
I had watched her a few times while she was deep in her work. She was so focused, so absorbed, so completely lost in her art.
In Isla, I saw a younger version of myself. I was just as serious back in the day.
I also noticed she had a thing for Adam. Whenever she saw him, her eyes would light up, and she'd orbit around him like he was her sun.
It made me itch to play matchmaker for Adam and Isla.
But back to the point.
It was my bad for bumping into Isla and making her fall. I quickly helped her up from the ground. Isla, rubbing her sore butt, followed me back to the room and sat in her seat. I asked her worriedly, "Is it serious? Should I take you to the school nurse?"
"No need, it's just a scrape; it'll be fine in a bit. But Jane, why were you in such a hurry? Going to the bathroom or something?"
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