Vertical Lines (The Vert Series Book 1) by Kristen Kehoe Page B

didn’t expect to be.” My nose scrunches when she laughs. “I guess that makes me a snot. I’ve known a lot of ‘artists’ in my time,” I clarify. “Mostly just kids who want an excuse to wander around the world with a camera and a credit card someone else pays for. My first impression led me to believe he was an oddball with a camera phone and an Instagram account.”
    Nala stretches her arms over her head. “Brooks is definitely the real deal. I’ve see him stand in a crowd for hours—the same spot, just looking. When he finally picks up his camera… it’s amazing what he can see. And that’s only half of his talent.”
    She’s speaking the truth. What I saw tonight when he gave in and showed me his physical portfolio—it was visionary. Emotional. Brutal, even.
    Somehow, I’ve inspired him.
    “I’m flattered,” I blurt out.
    Nala’s smile is knowing as she lowers her arms, palms pressed together. “Oh yeah?”
    “Stop it,” I say.
    “Stop what?”
    “That smile—the one you’re wearing now. You’re being smug, like you knew this would happen when you brought me there tonight.” Unclasping my sandals, I stand and take them to the closet, placing them in their spot. I stay there, staring at the clothes ranging from gowns to designer jeans. “Growing up, I was an odd-looking child. Too skinny,” I elaborate. “Lots of crooked teeth, overwhelming amounts of red hair, skin that hated the sunshine, and freckles that came no matter how much sunblock I used.” I laugh, fingering a picture I hung of my brother and me, taken years ago when we hadn’t yet learned we were pitted against one another.
    “My mom got me braces as quickly as she could, a stylist soon after, and a wardrobe that made even my figure look acceptable. A rigorous diet and exercise program, and here I am. I’ve never thought I was ugly,” I explain. “But with girls like you running around, I’ve always accepted my role as pleasant looking.”
    “Girls like me?”
    I turn and motion to her, still doing her relaxation breathing on her bed. She’s changed from this morning, her shorts and swimsuit replaced by a white sundress, which is thin and vintage with an empire waistline and eyelet stitching at the hem. She’s got a double band of jade bead-flowers around her head, all of her hair flowing over her shoulders.
    “Yes, girls like you . Boho chic, the kind of girl who buys repurposed clothing and thinks ChapStick is a cosmetic. I always thought you were a myth, and then I moved here and lo and behold, here you are. Perfect.”
    I smile to soften my words. “It’s harsh to see that and know it’s real. But then Brooklyn goes and says these awful things to me which shouldn’t be complimentary and still somehow feel like they are, telling me he needs my face. It’s weird and too much—but it’s also flattering.” Like maybe someone notices me . I press my lips together.
    Nala studies me a second and then nods. “I thought the same thing once. I looked at girls like you, the put-together kind, the ones with glossy hair that’s always straight, unblemished skin, and a wardrobe that costs more than the house I grew up in, and I felt like I couldn’t possibly compete.”
    “What changed?”
    Her smile is distant. “A lot. Too much to explain right now. You want to know the thing that saved me from myself and all of the people I was letting influence me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Remembering that beauty isn’t one thing. It isn’t one person. It’s features, personalities, ideas, beliefs. It’s confidence.” She stands, stopping in front of me on her way to her closet. “It’s you, Jordan. Not because of your hair or money or clothes, but because of who you are. I hope Brooks shows you that.”
     

Chapter 12
    Brooks
    Before she left last night, Jordan agreed to meet up with me and gave me her phone number. Even if she hadn’t, I would have found a way to get in touch with her, but having it makes things a lot