Paint Me True by E.M. Tippetts Read Free Book Online Page A

and out of date his PDA was. It had a stylus, and was covered in duct tape. His shoes were beat up old sneakers, also with holes in the leather, and his pants were so wrinkled, it looked like he’d slept in them.
    I sat in the back row and Jenna Knight was the first person to find me. She was in one of her usual, sensible, straight skirts with a white blouse, and she sat down next to me with a businesslike air, her blond hair pinned back from her dainty, heart-shaped face. “You’re new. I’m Jenna.” She held out her hand.
    “Eliza,” I said. It felt a little odd to shake hands, but that, I’d soon learn, was Jenna’s way.
    “Welcome to the monkey house. Gah.” She made a shooing motion at Len. He’d seen us and was smiling our direction. At her gesture, his eyes twinkled and he turned back around.
    “Who’s that?” I said.
    “His name’s Len. He’s the clerk, so he’ll come bother you about your records and all that.”
    “You don’t like him?”
    “He’s annoying. Seriously, don’t speak to him any more than you have to. He just talks about video games and stupid stuff like that, as if you’re supposed to care. Oh, here he comes.” She rolled her eyes.
    Sure enough, he was advancing up the aisle. I waited until he was close enough to hear me. “You need my name and old ward?”
    “Yup.”
    “Eliza Dunmar. Sa-”
    “I’m Len,” he cut me off.
    “Yeah, hi. Eliza. I was in-”
    “So what brings you to Portland?”
    “Dork,” said Jenna under her breath, which I know Len heard, but he didn’t react.
    I had no prepared answer to that one, and I realized this was a mistake. What was I supposed to say? I’m here because of free housing? “I’m an artist,” I blurted, as if the connection between my art and living in Portland were somehow obvious.
    Perhaps it was to a person like Len, because he just nodded and said, “Nice. So am I, more or less. You know. I’m a sysadmin for a law firm.”
    “Um... what?” said Jenna.
    He smirked at her.
    She gave him a look that would have made an oak tree wither.
    But it didn’t affect him. He turned back to me and said, “Give me your email and I’ll send you the records transfer form-”
    I realized then that I’d zoned out on Nora. My mind withdrew from Portland and returned to my body in Oxford with an almost audible thud. “Sorry.”
    “Good thoughts or bad?”
    “Bad. Let’s talk about Paul some more.”
    “Oh, all right.” She winked.
    This time I focused on her entirely and let the room melt away as she told her story.
     
    I never let myself be caught in jeans and a sweatshirt again. The first thing I did when I got to my room was change into a skirt. I shook my hair out of its ponytail and put on some lipgloss. The next time Paul saw me, I was determined to look more sophisticated. And I did see him around Balliol. I began to make a habit of passing by or through the college whenever I could and when I saw him, I’d duck behind the nearest wall and spy on him. Silly of me, I know.
    A couple of weeks into my course, I was trying to get back home in time for dinner and I almost ran right into him on a street corner. He caught my arm and I just about fainted when I saw who it was.
    “You all right?” he asked. He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke.
    I just stared at him.
    “I’m Paul.”
    “Nora.”
    “You American?”
    “Yeah.”
    He looked me up and down. “What brings you to Oxford?”
    “I’m majoring in English literature.”
    “Ah, right. Well, this is the place for that then.” He chuckled. “I’m reading history.”
    “Reading?”
    “It’s what my degree is in. I’m a finalist. I graduate in the spring.”
    “Oh, okay.” Since he still hadn’t let go of my arm, I felt weak in the knees.
    “You been to England before?”
    “Never been outside of Utah before.”
    “Must be quite a change, then?”
    I nodded.
    “Sorry, you trying to get somewhere?”
    “Just back to my house for