Free Painless by Devon Hartford Page B

sketchbook to a stranger. I was somewhat reluctant. Oh well, if he mocked me, then he was a jerk, boy band cute or not. I pulled my sketchbook out and handed it to him.
    He flipped through it casually, smiling the entire time. He stopped to linger at various pages, I didn’t know which ones. He even chuckled a few times. “Yeah,” he said, “these are great. Do you have any strips? Like multiple panels telling a cohesive story?”
    “Not really,”
    “No worries. What do you think about working with a writer?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Some of the strips in The Wombat are written by one person and drawn by another. I could team you up with a writer if you needed help. Until you get the hang of it. But I get the sense you’ll figure it out pretty quick, based on what I see here. Then you can write your own if you want. It would be up to you.”
    Wow, this guy was really nice. And cute. Not that I was interested in him. But he was being totally helpful, and he didn’t even know me. “Okay. When do I start?” I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work.
    “I have to show your stuff around first. But, like I said, I think the other guys will dig your work. Gimme your number and I’ll give you a call after our next meeting—”
    Oh. How smooth of him. I’d almost fallen for it. He was a master pickup artist.
    “—or better yet,” he continued, “why don’t you come to our next staff meeting? It’s this Friday.”
    Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe he was being genuine. “This Friday?”
    “Yeah. We meet at 4:20 at Toasted Roast.”
    I did a double take. “You guys meet at Toke Time? Do you smoke joints during the meeting?” I smiled.
    “It’s up to you,” he grinned. “so bring your own joints. But usually we stick to coffee.”
    “Sounds like my kind of crowd.” But it was on Valentine’s Day. The day of Christos’ trial. Shit. My guess would be that I wasn’t going to make their meeting. “But I don’t think I can make it. I have…something really important to do that day.”
    “That’s cool. If you want, I can snap some pics of your sketchbook and show them on Friday.”
    “Okay.”
    “Shoot me an email and I’ll let you know what everybody says.”
    Wow, he backed off quick. Maybe I had judged him too hastily. Maybe he was totally just trying to help. “What’s your email?”
    “Look up The Wombat website online. You can find it there.”
    The professor walked into the lecture hall and set his briefcase down, getting ready to start.
    “Okay,” I said to Justin, “I’ll do that.”
    Why did I suddenly feel like my life was being pulled in one too many directions at once? The one direction it was already heading was stressful enough.
    And why was I thinking in boy band puns all of a sudden?
    Groan!
    ===
    I secretly wondered if Justin Tomlinson would try to chat me up after History class, but he was gone when I finished packing up my laptop.
    On my way to the Student Center to meet Madison for lunch, I texted Romeo and Kamiko to see if they wanted to join us.
    Madison was already waiting in line for fish tacos, decked out in an SDU hoodie, Hollister sweats and flip flops. For a certain contingent of students, sleepwear was acceptable school dress. I couldn’t blame her. I knew she was jonesing to be back in short sleeves and board shorts. “What up, girl!” she cheered and gave me a big hug.  
    “Hey, Mads,” I smiled.
    “Did you find Christos last night?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So what was the emergency?”
    Hmm. How to explain that I was secretly worried he was going to commit suicide last night and still had no idea whether or not he had tried? And he was going to trial in two days? Yeah, not exactly an easy breezy topic. I wanted Madison to distract me from my pressing troubles, not dredge up my drama.
    She nudged against me. “Come on, girl. Dish. I’ve got a scoop right here.”
    I sighed. Was there something else we could talk about, like boy bands? No,