The Seat Exchange

Chapter 10

The sun dipped below the horizon as Alex and I walked home from the student centre. My arm was still a little sore from having my blood drawn, but otherwise, volunteering was a nice interruption from the usual sequence of class, home, and creating. But I wouldn't tell Alex that.

"I'm exhausted," I sighed as I paced up the steps of our townhouse. "I didn't think my feet could get this sore."

"Well, you have a full day to rest before the Falcon's opening game tomorrow night."

I punched the code into the keypad and unlocked the door. "Not happening."

"Why not?"

The door creaked open and I tossed my bag to the floor. The scent of spices and something almost sweet hit my nostrils, but I ignored it. From the clanking that emitted from the kitchen, I knew Veer was in there cooking up his next concoction.

"Alex, you know how I feel about Booker. I'm not going to accept his invitation. I've spent enough time in the same room as him today for eternity."

"Seriously? You're going to let your feelings about one person keep us from having a good time?" she asked.

"Look, it's not just that," I said, trying to find the right words to make her understand. "It's just... I don't know, it doesn't feel like my scene."

"Your scene?" Alex came up next to me, nudging me with her elbow. "Charlie, it's a hockey game, not a nightclub. You need to branch out and meet new people. Plus, Booker won't be anywhere near you. He'll be on the ice."

I made a face, ignoring her logic and collapsing onto the couch. "I'm not going."

"You're a buzzkill."

Veer popped his head out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "What are you two bickering about?"

Peering over the back of the couch, I answered his question with my own. "Are you making deep-fried fruitcake back there?"

Veer's brown eyes sparked with excitement. "It's actually a fusion dish I've been working on—Indian spiced apple chutney."

"That's not dinner, is it?" I asked, lips turned down in a frown.

He shook his head, pitying my immature taste buds. "Your chicken fingers and fries are in the oven."

"You're the greatest."

"Mmmhm," Veer hummed. "So... how was the volunteering?"

"It went well," Alex said, turning back to me with a sly grin. "Booker was there as well with some of the Falcons. He invited us to their season opener tomorrow night."

"You got a personal invitation from Mr. Prince Charming, himself?" Veer raised an eyebrow, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "You guys should definitely go."

"See, even Veer agrees with me!" Alex exclaimed, throwing her hands out by her side.

"Guys, stop ganging up on me," I sighed, feeling the weight of their combined enthusiasm pressing down on me. "I already told Alex that I don't want to go."

"Come on, Charlie," Veer pushed. "You need to branch out more. Try new things, experience life! Besides, who knows? Maybe this hockey game will inspire some amazing piece of art."

"Or maybe it'll just make me miserable and remind me of how much I hate sports," I muttered, but my resolve was beginning to waver. The truth was, I did need to step out of my comfort zone more often—but did it have to involve a hockey game?

"Fine," I grumbled, pulling out my phone to distract myself from Veer and Alex's victorious grins. "I'll think about it."

"I'll take it!" Alex squealed, clapping her hands together before launching herself at me for a hug. "At least it isn't a no!"

"Whatever," I mumbled, trying to hide the small smile that had crept onto my lips.

While the two of them continued to chat, I decided to check my emails. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had a couple of professors who liked to spring things on us at the last minute.

As I scrolled through the usual spam and class updates, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. I didn't give myself enough time to read the entire subject line. My finger jabbed against my phone screen.

There it was—an email from the Art Council.

The Art Council at Fenton was composed of a panel of professors from the BFA program. They were the ones responsible for selecting artists for the annual group show that took place sometime before Winter Break.

My stomach twisted into knots as I scanned through the opening line.

"They want to meet me," I murmured to myself.

With wide, unbelieving eyes I repeated myself. "The Art Council. They were impressed with my submission for the Winter Art Show," I swallowed down the anxiety. "They want to meet me."

"Oh my God!" Alex launched herself at me, flattening me into the over-used couch cushions. "That's so exciting!"

Veer sprang to where I was struggling to breathe. "If you keep this up, I'll be able to become a millionaire off of the little cat painting you gave me for my birthday last year!"

I tried to pin him with a glare, but I sputtered into a coughing fit. "Okay, get off of me!"

Alex obliged, but her grin didn't dull. She clapped his hands in front of her chest. "Do you think Mom and Dad will be able to make it down? I'm sure they'll want to be here."

"Whoa, hold on," I said, raising my hands for her to settle her racing thoughts. When my sister had something in her head, there was little that could be done to change her mind. "I haven't actually gotten a spot in the show yet. This is just an interview."

"Didn't you say that it's almost unheard of that Freshmen and Sophomores earn a spot in these art shows?" Veer chimed in, slipping into the seat next to me.

"Well... yeah. They typically reserve the spots for Junior and Senior students."

Veer grabbed hold of my hand with both of his. "Then they must see the same potential we see in you. You're talented, Char."

"Aren't you glad we forced you to apply?" Alex added, shoving at my thigh with her hands."

"Yeah, but now I have to sit in front of a panel and talk about my work." My heart hammered in my chest at the thought.

"They'll love you," Veer assured me. "Just pretend like you're talking to Alex and I about it."

As much as I wanted to argue against it, I couldn't deny the warm glow of pride that swelled in my chest. Maybe they were right—maybe I should let myself enjoy this small victory, even if it was just for one night.

"You're probably right," I replied, feeling my resistance crumble.

"Of course we are," Alex mused. "Which is why I'm also correct in saying that we should celebrate."

"Celebrate the fact that I might get a shot at the art show?"

Alex beamed at me. It was the same one that had people swarming her like fruit flies. "Life's too short not to celebrate the little things."

I offered her a tentative smile. "You're going to use this as a way to convince me to go to the game tomorrow, aren't you?"

She nodded, grin unwavering.

Dropping my phone in my lap, I drew in a deep breath. "You're lucky this email put me into a very good mood."

Alex squealed, bouncing in her seat with excitement. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" She lunged forward, her arms like boa constrictors around my torso.

I fixed a weary smile on my face. I hope I don't regret this.

_ _ _ _ _

author's note:

We're off to the first game of the season–how fun! Honestly, I have to thank the heavens for Alex or else this story wouldn't make it very far. Charlie just isn't a fan of putting herself out there or deviating from her comfort zone. 

What's something out of your comfort zone that you'd love to try? I'd love to go to go to more bookish events or host a book club of sorts but imposter syndrome's got a tight hold on me lol

Happy reading!