Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred by Melody Carlson Read Free Book Online Page B

Ruth."
    I glance up, stunned to hear my dad's voice. He's wearing a slight
frown as he looks at my canvas.
    "You came!" I say when I recover enough to find my voice. And
not only did my dad come, but to my totally shocked surprise, my
mother is with him. I just stare at her-like I've never seen this
woman before in my life. She looks shorter than usual, or maybe I
have grown since last winter. And her denim jacket, which I always
thought looked so cool on her, seems to swallow her. At least she
has combed her hair and pulled it back into a silver barrette. Even
so, her eyes have that vacant expression, as if she's not really present.
Sometimes, like now, I am certain that she's gone. Maybe for good.
    "Mom," I say as I step over and take her hand. "I can't believe
that you came. Are you feeling okay?"
    A faint smile. Or perhaps a shadow of one from long ago. She
nods. "I'm okay" Then she seems to study my painting. "I like it,"
she finally says.

    Glen has come over, and I have no choice but to introduce him
to my parents. I also mention the fact that he's the one who gave
me a ride home yesterday. To my relief, he shakes both my parents'
hands. He is very cordial and polite, and I see no reason that my dad
should find any fault with him.
    "So you're an artist too," my dad says, using his public voice
now. "Let's see what you're working on." He steps over and looks at
the charcoal sketch. It's the beginning of an old pickup, and really
quite good. "Hey, I used to have a truck almost like that," my dad
tells him. "Fifty-four Ford?"
    "Yep."
    Dad nods and rubs his chin, smiling just like he's a normal guy, a
good of boy that you can count on when times are tough. Yeah, sure.
"Mine was red. Bright candy-apple red. Painted it myself. And rebuilt
the engine too. Wish I still had that old truck. She was a honey"
    Glen is smiling and I think I can see the wheels in his brain turning. I'm sure he's thinking that my dad's just fine, perfectly normal,
and my mom is the real problem. She certainly looks like a problem as she hovers near me, glancing nervously around the crowded,
noisy room as if someone in here might be armed and dangerous,
out to get her.
    I'm so relieved when my parents finally leave. I try to get back
into my painting, but it's like something in me just broke. Like I
don't even know how to paint anymore. So I just stand there, holding my paintbrush close to the canvas and pretend to be working. I'm actually just spacing and wishing I could get out of here.
Wishing I could just disappear. Wishing I were alone with a razor
blade. I am so pathetic.
    Finally it's over. Glen is driving me home. But I feel numb and
tired and my stomach is tied in a square knot.

    "You're awfully quiet, Ruth."
    He's sitting behind the wheel, waiting for the light to turn green.
I take a deep breath, force a smile for him. "Sorry."
    "Everything okay?"
    I shrug. "I guess I'm just worn out from the art fair and everything. Its been a long day."
    "Yeah. But I think it went really well tonight. Pollinni was sure
happy with how many people showed up."
    "Yeah, he said we made some pretty good money, too."
    "And you can't be too disappointed about the awards, Ruth. You
got more than anyone else."
    "You didn't do too badly yourself," I say, trying to sound like a
normal girl.
    "Well, for the new kid anyway."
    "And it was cool meeting your mom," I tell him. "She seems
really nice." His mom had shown up during the last half hour with
sparkling blue eyes and a great smile.
    "Yeah, she's okay."
    But I can tell by the way he says "okay" that he really likes her.
And I could tell by the way he introduced her tonight that he was
proud to call her his mother. I wish I could've felt that way about
inine.
    "Your parents seemed nice too." But his tone is unconvincing
and I can tell he's just being polite.
    I sort of laugh. "You really think so?"
    "Your clad was pretty friendly"
    "Yeah, well, he had on his party face. Trust