Lucky stunk at art. I on the other hand, was the art teacher's pet (at least I was good at one subject!). In grade nine, we crossed paths when he asked me to draw something. His plan was to hand it in to avoid failing. The carpet boy talked to me. Play it cool Heidi, play it cool. I doodled something sweet and tried to play it like it was really nothing. He thought it was amazing. After that, we were good. Neither of us brought up the nightie thing.
That year we drank with his cousin who was a grade older than us. I felt so rebellious and cool. Now if I drank in a closet, I think I'd feel differently.
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