Aimee carefully paced from one painting to another trying to look relaxed. It wasn’t exactly easy. Her hands would clench and unclench themselves repeatedly, and her breath would waver as she tried to calm herself. Every time someone would walk into the gallery out of the corner of her eye, she would snap her head towards them before bringing her head back to the paintings in disappointment. She tried to slow her pace as she appeared to peruse the gallery, but her legs would occasionally move faster against her will.

“Hey,” said a familiar voice behind her. Aimee turned toward the voice and smiled.
“Hey Cass.” The girl that approached wore tight skinny jeans and had her hair in a braid over her shoulder.
“So,” Cass said in a low voice. “Did he say yes?” Aimee smiled and looked away. “I thought so,” Cass continued. “Where’s he meeting you?”
“Here.” Aimee and Cass had stopped near a medium-sized painting of a girl in a red dress.
“Right here, or just—“ Cass gave the room a sweep with her arms “—here?” Aimee gave a disapproving look. “Geez Aimee, lighten up,” Cass said with a hint of theatricality. Aimee looked away and stared for a while at the painting. Cass frowned. She reached and felt Aimee’s hands. They were shaking ever so slightly. “Oh, shush, you’ll be fine.” Cass turned her attention to the painting to the right of the woman in red. “So, what did you find out in here?”
Aimee sighed. “Not much.”
“Not much?” Cass knitted her brows for a moment. “Aimee, look.” She put her hands on either side of Aimee’s face and guided it toward hers. “You’ll be fine. Don’t fuss about it.”
“But…” Aimee began in a small voice. “What if…he…”
“Brett’s a really nice guy. Just be you. You’ll be fine.” Aimee took another deep breath.
“It’s just—“ Aimee felt a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. She rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“Is it your mom?”
“Yep.” Aimee walked to the middle of the gallery and sat down on the solitary wooden bench. Cass followed. Aimee looked at the message. “How has the museum been?” it read. Aimee tapped a reply: “fine”. She waited. Cass stood by tapping her feet.
Aimee looked up and made a shooing motion with her hand. “You can go. This is gonna take…awhile.” She punctuated the last word with a nod of her head. Cass smirked.
“Ah, adults and their perfect grammar. I’ll finish the loop and wait with the group. I’ll even take notes.” Aimee gave a small smile before her eyes fell to the floor in a frown. Cass bent down and brought her face nearer to Aimee’s. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She gave Aimee a hug and began to walk away with her hands behind her back. Aimee’s phone buzzed again. She read the message: “What do you think of the artwork?” Aimee typed back: “its good” before turning off her phone’s screen and taking a deep breath. She looked toward the doorways. No one. She wriggled her toes inside her gray Converse sneakers and looked around at the paintings, scrunching her face in disgust. Her phone buzzed again. The message read: “What struck you?” “nothing” was the reply. Aimee looked at the entrances again. Upon seeing few girls from her school emerge from one of the entrances, Aimee straightened her back and stared at a random painting on the wall. Whispers and snickers echoed from across the hallway, and Aimee imagined sidelong glances being fired in her direction. Once the group passed through the room, she released the air out of her chest, letting her spine sag back to its original position. When the phone in her hand vibrated once more, she unlocked it and read the message: “Nothing? Anyway, your Father called and he wants to see you. He suggested Friday. Is that good?” Aimee pursed her lips. She tapped back “no” and stared at the phone for a few seconds. As soon as she hit the power button, it vibrated again. “Wednesday?” read the swift reply. Aimee let out a short breath and punched back “no”. The phone returned a prompt message: “Anytime?” Aimee clenched her jaw and mashed back: “no”. A longer pause followed. The reply read: “We’ll talk at home. Have fun.” She waited a few seconds before putting her phone away. After checking the entrances and seeing no one of consequence, she started bouncing in her seat and let her fingernails claw at the wood of the bench. After her bouncing stopped, she began combing back her hair with her fingers. Satisfied, she let her hands fall to her lap and let her eyes drift back to the paintings. She scanned them quickly again, pausing every once and a while to squint at seemingly insignificant parts of each. Soon enough, her eyes found their way back to the painting with the woman in the red dress. She stared motionless at the painting. After a few minutes, she got up and walked up to it.
The picture stood measured about three feet by four feet and hung near one of the entrances to the gallery. The girl depicted in the painting, who looked to be about twenty-one, was lying on a brown leather couch in a dimly lit room. She had propped herself up on her elbow with the help of a pillow and was loosely holding a universal remote in her left hand. Aimee followed the triangle that the girl’s knees formed with the couch. The feet were placed opposite arm of the couch and allowed the folds in her spaghetti strap dress to flow down over the rounded edge. Aimee peered closer at the face. Even in the dim lighting, one could make out the richness of her dirty blond hair and soft tones on her cheeks. The girl was staring off to the left of the painting, presumably at a TV. The eyes had a sort of vacant distance to them, and the lifelessness transferred itself to the rest of the face. Aimee sighed.
Her phone buzzed again. It was from Cass: “he’s coming” it read. She tapped back: “soon?”. The prompt reply: “he’s going that way”. Aimee looked at the entrances again. She walked over and peered down both of them. Nothing. She walked back to the painting and continued staring at the girl’s face.
***

Matt and Tony strode away from the group gathered around the entrance to the museum. Even when they rounded a corner, they could still hear the shrill voice of Mr. Boardman echo throughout the neighboring galleries.

Once they were a safe distance from the group, Matt looked around and said, “Why the f*** did we stay this late? There is literally no one here.”

Tony shrugged. “I guess Boardman wants us to look at every f*ing picture in this place,”

“And then, there are, like, no chairs. Do they even f*ing care about old people?”
“I know. And there were a ton of old people here too.”
“Yeah. And now, that stupid Aimee girl goes missing.”
Tony turned his head toward Matt. “You surprised?”
Matt looked away. “Nope.”
“You know what?” Tony said, changing the tone of his voice, “Let’s just get outta here. After, we can go to my house and play some GW 3.”
“Yeah, we should. What level are you on?”
“I’m almost done with The Forge.”
“That’s the place with Hephaestus, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That level’s great. Wait ‘til you get to Hades, though. After you defeat Hades, you get the Helm of Hades, which is pretty awesome.”
“Yeah, I really need another godly possession.” Tony looked through the doorway into the next gallery. He tugged his chin upwards. “Is that her?”
“Yep,” Matt replied. The pair had reached one of the furthermost galleries of the museum. On the other end was a girl with her back turned staring at a painting on the wall.
“Yo, Aimee. The group’s been looking for you.” Aimee whipped her body around and let her features fall. She had been looking at a picture of a girl lying on a couch. The girl in the painting wore the same expression as Aimee.
“Oh, okay,” she replied in a small voice. She began making her way toward the entrance the boys had come from. The pair turned around and began walking ahead of her. Tony leaned toward Matt.
“Dude, is she crying?” he whispered.
Matt closed his eyes briefly and gave a sniff. “Probably. Whatever.” The pair strode along towards the exit, letting Aimee fall behind. They never looked back.