Ella

“It's after school, after my double detentions for gym and chemistry, and I'm at Knead, about to begin working on a new piece. I wedge the clay out against my board, enjoying the therapeutic quality of each smack, prod, and punch.
As the clay oozes between my fingers and pastes against my skin, images of all sorts begin to pop into my head. I try my best to push them away,to focus instead on the cold and clammy sensation of the mound and the way it helps me relax. But after only a few short minutes of solitude, I hear someone storm their way up the back stairwell. At first I think it's Spencer, but then I hear the voice:
"I'm coming up the stairs," Adam bellows. "I'm approaching the studio area, about to pass by the sink."
I turn to look, noticing he's standing only a few feet behind me now.
"I hope I didn't startle you this time," he says.
"Ha-ha." I hold back my smile.
"I would have called your cell to tell you I was coming up, but you never gave me your number."
"I'm fine," I assure him, unable to stifle a giggle.”
― Laurie Faria Stolarz, Deadly Little Lies