Chapter 15

I didn't see Joshua, obviously, but I couldn't hear him either. That could because of Miss Dillinger's constant talking, or it could be because of the loud music blasting above my head. The lyrics, which were very catchy, went something like “To ten million fireflies, I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes.” It made me want to dance.

        “...Joshua's upstairs. He told me to bring you up when you got here, so...that's where we are going. The stairs are right in front of you, be careful. Do you remember where Joshua's room is?” 

        I nodded. I could find it, anyway.

        I stepped up what I remembered was eleven steps, walked to the very end of the hall and turned right. The music was much louder now, and I couldn't focus on anything but it. “Can you please turn down the music?” I asked, hoping Joshua was in here and didn't happen to go to the bathroom at this particular time. 

        But there was no need to worry, because the music became very quiet and Joshua said “Hey, Izzy!” He walked over, causing several crumples from what I assumed to be keeping the floor safe, and grabbed my hand. He pulled me to an area, that smelled strongly of paint. “Okay,” He said. “There's open paint cans in here so be very careful of where you step.”

        “Okay.” I didn't want to move. The paint could be anywhere close to me, and although I'm good at placing objects by noise, paint cans don't make any. This was a disaster waiting to happen. 

        “Your nervous.” He chuckled. “Have you ever painted anything before?”

        “Uh...no. I'm blind, it wouldn't come out very well.”

        “Oh, psh.” He said. “You can paint. I'll show you how. But...maybe I should get you an apron or something...”

        “Um, I don't think-”

        “They're old anyway. Mom has new ones. You can get as much paint as you want on this.” 

        “Okay...” I was just barely agreeing with him.

        He helped me put the apron on and then he walked over and continued to paint.

        I sat down on the floor.

        “What're you doing?” He asked with a laugh.

        “I don't want to ruin it, really I'm fine, I-”

        “Oh, stop! Come on, stand up. You aren't close to any paint cans.”

        I stood up, but felt awkward. He walked over to me and placed a paintbrush in my hand. He led me close to the wall and said “The paint is right in front of you on the ground, just dunk the brush in, and slap it on the wall. Well, not slap really, but paint. Just kind of move it in an up and down motion.”

        “Okay.” I nodded. I could do this. Concentrate. I bent over and dunked the paintbrush in the paint. Then slapped the paintbrush on the wall. I guess I hadn't been listening very well during the second half of his sentence. The paint splattered everywhere. Including on my face.

        I laughed. “That wasn't very smart of me, was it?”

        “No,” Joshua laughed too. “but it's okay. Let's go wash it off before it dries.”

        I stood still and waited for Joshua too walk over to me. As he got closer, I scraped some of the paint off of my face. He grabbed my hand, the one I hadn't used to scrape off the paint, and led me to the bathroom. 

        I felt his hand in mine, and determined where his face would be. I took the paint on my fingers, and smudged it on Joshua's cheek. He froze. Then he laughed, and I knew he wasn't mad at me. 

        “I'm so going to get you back for that.”