Portrait of Us by A. Destiny Page B

something from her.
    I’d anticipated coming here and being bored, validated in my snobbery about contemporary art. But Matthew had challenged me to look beyond my initial disdain and give the pieces a chance. And in all honesty, as we stood side by side, staring at Teni’s art, I was glad he had.

    â€œWhat am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” I whined to Ava as I tugged thin strips of her hair into small braids. “I’m going to be all alone, with no one to talk to about all of my angst.”
    She was currently sitting on the floor between my dangling lower legs while I sat on my bed. Ava stretched out her limbs, flexing her freshly painted bold blue toenails. “I’m sure you can find something to keep you distracted. Something starting with the letter M .”
    I tugged her hair a little harder than I needed to, and she gave a short howl. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” I said sweetly.
    â€œYou’re mean.” She pressed fingers to her scalp and groaned like I’d ripped the hair out by the roots. “I’m going to be baldnow. And then no Scottish boys will find me attractive. Thanks so much for ruining my plans.”
    My mom popped her head in the door and eyed me and Ava. Her eyebrow shot up when she saw Ava’s head half-covered in rows of braids, but she wisely decided not to comment on it. Ava and I sometimes did weird things on our weekly sleepover nights, like experimenting with hairstyles or avant-garde fashion. A tradition we’d started back in middle school. “You girls need anything before your father and I go to bed?”
    â€œNo, Mrs. Walters,” Ava said with a smile. “So long as your daughter stops ripping out all of my hair in revenge.”
    â€œCorinne, be nice,” Mom chastised, then winked. “Okay, keep it down, ladies. Good night. Don’t stay up too late, honey. You have to work tomorrow, remember?”
    We echoed our good nights to her, and she closed the door.
    I rolled my eyes and turned the music in the background down a fraction. It was only eleven, but my parents were already going to bed. Typical—I couldn’t remember the last time they’d stayed up even until midnight. “What are your folks doing tonight? Are you guys all packed?” I made quick work of finishing her braids.
    â€œMostly. Just a few odds and ends left. It’s going to be a lot of fun. I’ll take a million pics and send them to you. My mom has international calling and unlimited data, so I can check in with you online.” She tilted her head to look at me, giving me a pitying smile. “I’m sorry I was teasing you about Matthew. I know you’reuncomfortable with the whole thing. But it sounds like going to the museum might have been good for you.”
    I slipped down to the floor beside her and rested my back against the bed. “It was. I mean, I’m stubborn and set in my ways. I know that. But I do want to make this work with him.” I needed to win. And to be honest, there was a small part of me that was excited by the challenge of trying something different.
    Pushing my craft, as Teni always said.
    Well, if anything was going to nudge me out of my comfort zone, it would be working with Matthew.
    â€œWhat was your favorite piece?” she asked me.
    I scrunched up my face and thought about the whole gallery. After seeing Teni’s piece, we’d lingered for another good hour, strolling around and taking it all in. Brianna had even brought us some tea to sip while we perused.
    â€œProbably the wooden sculpture of the woman holding a child.” I told her all about it. The carving was small, only a few inches around, and resting on a tall pedestal. But the moment I’d seen it, I’d wanted to touch it and see if the exterior was as smoothly polished as it appeared. The figures hadn’t been immediately evident, but soon the gentle, flowing lines of the