Love Me Love Me (English)

4

June

"June, give me your number. Let's go out tonight."

I was stunned when Amelia asked me after school.

Up to this point, I'd transferred from one school to another without making a single friend. But since moving to Los Angeles, I'd already met two people. Maybe she asked me out of pity? I still wasn't 100% sure, but it sounded like Amelia invited me to the skatepark this evening with Brian and one of his friends.

"I'll think about it," I answered reluctantly as I headed home.

It wasn't that I didn't like the idea of hanging out with them. The real reason was much more embarrassing. I had no idea what to wear. I'd never gone out at night except to take out the trash.

My life is so exciting, isn't it?

I looked through my closet in search of something cute.

Jeans, jeans, and more jeans.

Okay, I give in. I'll wear these.

My drawers were even worse I rummaged and only found T-shirts. I knew this, but I kept digging through my dresser as if I were conjuring up something gorgeous out of thin air.

Come to think of it, I hadn't updated my summer clothes in a while. Sweatshirts and windbreakers were my battle uniforms in Seattle. But it was too hot for that in California, so I had to change my style, if you can call wearing something like an oversize T-shirt and jeans style.

I opted for a white T-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans.

I gave myself the once over in the mirror with just enough time to brush my hair and groom my eyebrows.

I went downstairs to find my tennis shoes.

"June, sit down." My mom's voice sounded anything but promising. She was sitting on the couch and regarded me cautiously. "My new painting collection is selling better than I expected. A gallery curator wants to see my new pieces..."

It wasn't a very nice thing to say, but I automatically tuned her out every time she started talking about her doodles or art in general. "...and he invited me to have dinner with him."

My ears perked up when I heard this.

"Is that a joke," I demanded as I rummaged through the shoe rack on the door. I folded my arms and turned around facing her.

"What did you think I said? He can help me exhibit at more than one gallery. He wants to talk about exhibiting at the Hammer Museum. If someone wants to buy a piece, I'd make a mint June. And after everything we've been through..."

"Get to the point," I cut her off, annoyed at how long she was taking.

"We could be here for another year."

"And you're telling me this because?"

"Because I want you to come with me."

I scoffed. "Forget it, Mom. I'm not gonna be your third wheel."

She placed her hand on the pile of papers on the glass table, "June, please, be serious. It's a very important evening for me, and I want it to be important for you too. If I sell my whole collection, we probably won't have to move for a while..."

Is this a trap? Is the woman who gave birth to me really trying to pull one over on me? I stared at her until a lightbulb went off in my head.

"Does that mean I would graduate from my new school?