Chapter 9

Detention was a blessing. Friday afternoon, Ms. Clayborn watched as I put in the last detail on the painting. Maybe not the very last. I spotted a few places where I thought I’d like to add something or clean something up. It was pretty close, though. And it was already past the time when we were supposed to go home. Annette hugged me and gave me a kiss that was not approved for school grounds.

“I understand,” Ms. Clayborn said. “I’d almost kiss him myself. This is good work, Arthur. You captured an incredible feeling. It’s a great start.”

“A start?” I was crushed. I knew it was the best I’d ever painted. How could she say it was just a start?

“Yes. A great start. It is the first of your exhibition quality work, Arthur. Only the first.”

“Second,” I said automatically.

“You have another?”

“I’ve been working on it at home for the past two weeks. It’s kind of ... intimate, though.”

“Hmm. There is nothing wrong with intimacy in artwork as long as it’s not vulgar. I think you would know the difference,” Ms. Clayborn said.

“I know the difference,” Annette said. “It’s intimate. There is absolutely nothing vulgar about it.”

“How would you feel about being on detention for the rest of the year?” Ms. Clayborn asked.

“I ... What did I do?”

“We’ll make something up. But you will need to pay attention in Mr. Kowalski’s history class. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, grinning.

“Where are we going?” I asked. Annette was not taking me home.

“Out to dinner. It’s Friday night—date night,” she laughed. “Don’t worry. I already cleared it with your mother.”

“Wow. I’ve been so out of it this week. All I could think about was getting to detention. Is that weird?”

“It would be for anyone else, but not for you. I’m so proud of you, Pen.” She pulled into a parking spot at the Italian restaurant and leaned across the console to kiss me.

“What do you get out of this?” I asked as we waited for a table. “I don’t mean that to sound mercenary, but you do so much for me and I’m all self-absorbed. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“Let’s just say that some women have a very protective instinct,” she smiled.

My name was called and we followed the hostess to a table. I didn’t even need to look at a menu. I loved their penne pasta with Italian sausage. They put so much cheese on it that it was gooey all the way through. Our waitress took our orders and told us our salads would be out shortly.

“That doesn’t seem like much to build a relationship on,” I sighed when we were alone again. “It’s like you’re my mother. You do everything for me.”

“With one very important exception,” Annette said. “I’m going to have sex with you. And I expect it to be really good.”

“Um ... Uh ... I don’t know if I’m any good at it. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she laughed. “Tonight.”

An hour later, I realized I’d eaten only half my meal.

Annette had planned our entire date. It was so sweet of her to take me to the art museum for the opening of the new Post-Modernist exhibition. We held hands as we walked through the exhibit. It was a little disheartening.

“I don’t paint like any of them,” I sighed.

“Of course not.”

“But they are the contemporary artists. How am I supposed to fit in?”

“You aren’t supposed to fit in. You’re supposed to stand out. A lot of these artists are still painting, but they are no longer contemporary,” Annette said. “There’s a generation beyond this that was influenced by computers. When you look at art created after 1990, even paintings, they tend to explore what the computer can do. They use effects. ‘Let’s try putting strong colored lines around all the edges.’ That sort of thing.”

“I don’t do that, either.”

“No. We’ll come up with a new name. You’ll start a new movement. We’ll call it the Post-Digital Movement. You will be the poster boy.”

“You, my Lady, are sometimes silly.”

“Yes. It’s why you love me.”

We left the museum when it closed at ten. Annette parked in my driveway and proceeded to show her love for me across the console. My hand was under her sweater and hers was stroking the front of my pants.

“Pen,” she whispered. “This is where a good date would be asking if I’d like to come in for a while. He’d be thinking, ‘I don’t want this to end yet. How can I get her to keep going?’ And then you’d say something clever like, ‘Would you like to come in for a drink?’ only since we’re too young to drink alcohol, you’d think up something clever like hot chocolate, or maybe to see your latest painting that I haven’t seen since the morning I woke up in Morgan’s arms. Understand?”

“Um ... Yes. Sure. My Lady, could I warm you up inside with a cup of hot chocolate? Please, come in with me.”

“Thank you, Pen. I’d love to have you warm me up inside. I warn you, though, that hot chocolate makes me sleepy. You might have to put me to bed later.”

“I’ll take care of you. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on the way home and have an accident.”

It was a cute little play. Of course, I knew that I couldn’t just take her to bed with my parents three doors down the hall, but there would be no problem with her sleeping in Fay’s room. And we didn’t have to say goodnight right away. We could take our chocolate to the family room and pretend to watch a late movie while we made out on the sofa. Yeah. That would be fine.

There was a light in the kitchen when we went inside. It seemed to be the only light in the house and I assumed my parents had gone to bed. We went to the kitchen door and saw Mom standing at the counter.

“Come on in, you two. I made you hot chocolate.” I tucked my shirt in quickly.

“Thanks, Mom. We thought we’d maybe watch a movie for a while,” I said.

“That’s a good thing to do for a while,” she answered. “Be sure to rinse your cups out when you finish.” I handed the first mug to Annette and she sipped appreciatively. I turned to Mom and she wrapped me in a big hug. “You know your father will look in on you in the morning,” she whispered. “It would be courteous if Annette were covered and not exposed. I love you, my son.” Then Mom practically ran out of the room and I heard her on the stairs. I took a sip of my cocoa.

“Do you really want to watch a movie, Pen?” Annette asked.

“Um ... I just thought it would be the proper thing to do instead of just suggesting that we go into the family room and make out,” I sighed. “Did I do something wrong, Lady?”

“No, honey. You did everything perfectly. But, Pen...” she sighed more heavily than I had. “I want to make love to you. Can’t we just go to your room?”

“Really?”

“Maybe I haven’t been making myself clear enough,” she said. She pulled her sweater and camisole off over her head and rushed to hug me. “Do you get the message now?” I ran my hands up and down her bare back as she lifted her lips to give me a chocolatey kiss.

“Mmm. Let’s rinse our cups,” I said. As soon as they were in the dishwasher, I picked up my lover and carried her to the stairs.

“Wait! Wait!” she giggled. “Put me down.” I was sure I’d gone too far. Girls were so confusing. I set her down. “I left my sweater and cami on the kitchen table!” she said, running to get them. She ran back and jumped into my arms. “Now, my gallant Pendragon, carry me to your bed.”

“I think we should take a shower,” she said softly as we stood by the sink after brushing our teeth. “Will you bathe me, milord?”

“Annette, my Lady of the Lake, I will do anything for you. I’m lost in your presence. Tell me how to serve you.”

“You could start by taking the rest of my clothes off and running the water. And let me take off your clothes as well.”

I did as I was bid. It wasn’t difficult to get her socks off, and her skirt had a simple catch and zipper. I’d seen Annette in just her panties before. We’d slept together like that. She simply stood there looking at me and I felt overwhelmed with her love.