Free The Art of Life by Sarah Carter Page B

nicely.
                    Nodding,
my mom mumbles, “Good, I am going to the bar now.”
                    “Have
fun!” I say sarcastically, but it goes completely unnoticed by her.   Turning to Jeremy, I exclaim, “I am so sorry
about my mom!”
                    Jeremy
just laughs.   “It’s fine.”
                    “It
is not fine!” I snap.   “How more horribly
embarrassed could I be?”
                    “She
could have told us to go buy some contraceptives.”
                    My
eyes nearly explode.   “I would have
probably died.”
                    “You
should always use protection,” he says, with a big grin.
                    “Jeremy!   Shut up!”
                    That
makes him laugh even more.   “This makes
my day.”
                    “I
am glad that you find it so funny,” I mumble.
                    “ Relax, at least she didn’t give us THE TALK.”   I just look at him with a blank stare.   Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “She has had
that conversation with you right?”
                    My
face heats up from blushing.    “Ugh, sort
of, we have had some weird conversations while she has been drunk.”
                    Getting
a huge smile on his face, Jeremy inquires, “Do I need to talk to you about it?”
                    “No!”
I practically scream.   “We seriously need
to the change the topic.”
                    “But
this is so much fun!”
                    I
glare at him and articulate strongly, “No, it’s not.”
                    “Well,
if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask.”
                    Now,
I really want to be somewhere else.   “I
will NEVER ask you about THAT!”
                    Leaning
forward, he says, “It’s called ssseeeexxxx .”
                    That
makes me cover my face with my hands.   “It’s called shut up!”
                    Jeremy
continues to chuckle, but goes to the last wall with my art.   “You are an amazing artist.”
                    “Thanks,”
I say, grateful for the subject change.   “Oh!   That reminds me.   I made you something.”   I put my backpack down and unzip it.  
                    “Oh,
oh, oh, is it made out of macaroni noodles?” Jeremy giddily jokes.
                    “Now
you aren’t going to get it,” I laugh, “make fun of my macaroni noodles.”
                    Coming
over to me, Jeremy retorts, “I love macaroni noodle art.”
                    “Well
then, you will be disappointed.”   I bring
out the drawing.   “I matted it for you,
to make it look nice, and well, I did the bike to the best of my recollection.   So, it’s not the best.”   Carefully, I hand it over to Jeremy.
                    “Isabelle,”
he quietly whispers, “this is fantastic.   You did this last night?”
                    Nodding,
I reply, “Yeah.”   I walk over to look
over his shoulder. “Do you like it?”
                    I
watch Jeremy look at it.   It is a
sketching of him sitting on his bike, down by the clearing.   “I feel privileged to have you draw me.   This is getting framed and going up in my
living room.”
                    “Oh no!” I gasp.   “You
have people over and then they will see it.”
                    “Isn’t
that the point of art?” He asks, looking back at me.
                    My
eyes quickly look away.   “Yeah, but I haven’t
really shown people my work.”
                    “Is
this mine?   You are giving it to