Better Hallway Vision

by UnicornPammy

A/N: This is the first chapter to feature more than one TBC character at a time. I'm eventually going to move away from one character per chapter, because that's boring. I had fun with this chapter. It's the longest one so far, and I hope I've kept everyone in character.

The Andy/Allison thing isn't always my favorite, but I do like the very steady quality people tend to give their relationship. I find it satisfying to write about.

Disclaimer: Clyde is mine! You can't have him! All others are not.

Chapter 8: Wall Ghost

Allison ripped down sketches and prints, neither noticing nor caring where they landed. She'd only meant to clear off a portion of the wall, but found herself pulling down every scrap of paper she could reach. Then she started sketching the outline on the wall itself. Her hand flew, smudging and shading, working furiously. Occasionally she would take a step back to check her perspective, but she didn't stop, she didn't rest.

Finally, when there was nothing left to detail, nothing left to highlight or shadow or fix, she stopped. She looked. She tilted her head one way, then another; then she shook it. It wasn't enough. It wasn't REAL enough. She tossed away her pencil in frustration, then went over to her closet. She opened the door and felt around the dark interior for her box of paints. Debating over acrylics or oils, she finally decided on oils. They took longer to dry, but they looked a lot more realistic.

She chose her colors, squeezing them out onto a stained palette. Then she got her brushes.

Allison painted, of course, slower than she drew. But she didn't exactly take her time. Oils were frustrating, because normally you have to apply a layer, and let it dry, before you went on. But she didn't stop. She felt as if she couldn't, or all her work would disappear.

At one point she was frustrated because she couldn't quite get the right color blue. It was too dark, but when she lightened it, it was too light. Finally, she added a touch of green, and it was perfect.

When she was done, she laid her palette and brush on her paint-stained dresser. Then she looked. And found she couldn't breathe. It was him. He was beautiful. Full-size, lifelike. Absolutely beautiful. Without even knowing she'd moved, she was suddenly right in front of him. Raising on tiptoe, she placed her hands on either side of his face, and leaned forward, not caring that she was about to kiss wet paint. Her eyes slid closed, her lips parted.

Warm arms came around her, and warm breath slid over her cheek. A mouth she had tasted once before came down on top of hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers up through the silk of his hair, holding him close. Refusing to let go, or to open her eyes.

Allison fell back into the real world reluctantly, clutching a pillow, buried beneath piles of blankets. She tried to hold onto the dream; she could still feel his presence, his arms around her, his lips on hers. She could even feel his heartbeat against her chest.

Finally, she opened her eyes, sighing when she saw the sun shining in through her window. Allison closed her eyes again, refusing to accept the fact that it was morning, and time to get up, for a few more minutes. When she did get up, the first thing she did was pick up his sweatshirt from where she'd left it the night before. She buried her face in it and breathed in his scent: laundry soap, clean skin, and a subtle, intriguing cologne.

Oh, God, she was getting sappy. She hated that anyone could get to her like this. She hadn't been joking when she'd said she wanted to run away. But the only way she could was if there wasn't anything here she cared about.

Too late.

Allison sighed, blowing the hair out of her face. Nothing she could do about it now. She tossed Andy's sweatshirt on her bed, then started getting clothes together so she could take a shower.

She stopped moving; she had this prickly feeling on her neck, like someone was watching her. Her heart started pounding, and she couldn't tell if she was afraid or excited. She turned, slowly, anticipation building in her chest. And there he was, staring at her from her wall. Not the painting of her dream, but the sketch of his face she had done last night before getting ready for bed. Dropping the clothes in her hand back onto the floor, she moved slowly to the wall. With an odd feeling of deja vu, she placed her hands on the wall on either side of his portrait. She started to lean in, but stopped. She couldn't do it. This wasn't a dream. He wasn't going to suddenly be there, and wrap his arms around her. And kiss her. Allison knew she had a wild imagination, but it couldn't sustain that big of a fantasy.

Feeling a bit angry at herself, she turned away from his picture and snatched her clothes up off of the floor again, going out of her bedroom and across the hall to the bathroom. After showering, she got dressed. She hadn't really paid attention to the clothes she'd picked up off the floor. It didn't matter what she wore...not until tomorrow, anyway. There was very little chance she'd run into Andy at the art store today, which was where she was planning on going.

After looking at herself in the mirror, she decided maybe she should comb out her wet hair. She thought it might help to keep her hair out of her eyes. She couldn't use Claire's scarf forever; and besides, she didn't want to mess it up before she could give it back. She knew she couldn't afford a replacement.

Allison finger-combed her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. Maybe she'd stop by the mall. There had to be some kind of store where she could get a headband, or something. Maybe a brush. But she definitely needed to go to the art store. She was running low on her oil paints. Especially blue and green.

It was raining by the time she got to the mall. She only had about $20 left from the money she'd pilfered from her mom's purse on the way out the door. Her mother never noticed. She was always too drunk, depressed, or both to ever notice Allison. She couldn't believe she'd spent $30 on paint and brushes. Art stuff was getting to be too expensive. The pencils and erasers she'd stashed in her parka made her feel better, though.

Allison wasn't a total stranger to the mall; it's just that normally she only went in the bookstore. She decided to stop there first, and found a book of Escher prints that she really liked on the bargain table. Then, on a whim, she looked through the sports section and actually found a book on competitive wrestling. She knew absolutely nothing about the sport, and right now she wanted anything she could get her hands on that gave her some kind of connection to Andy. As she paid for her books, she couldn't help but think that Dr. Shreve was right about the obsessive personality thing. Of course, it didn't take an expensive Medical Doctorate to come up with that diagnosis.

She moved on from the bookstore, walking slowly around the mall, looking for a store that might have hair stuff. Mostly, she passed by clothing stores and shoe stores, a toy store, and the food court.

Finally she came to one called McCrory's. She entered nervously, looking around quickly. Allison wanted to find the section she wanted so she could get what she needed and leave. There were lots of makeup and bath supplies, and a hair doo-dad section as well. Allison hurried in that direction. She saw some animal print hairbrushes, and stared at them in horror. She never could understand the fascination with animal prints, even fake ones. Why would anyone want to wear or own something that looked like the skin of another creature? Then she saw one that looked like a curled up, sleeping cat, with the cat's tail as the handle. It was CUTE. Allison picked it up and ran her fingers over the sleeping cat's face, smiling. Then she looked around for something to keep her hair out of her face. She picked up a black head band, and a packet of barrettes, studying them like they were relics from an ancient civilization. Would she use these if she got them?

A bunch of giggling girls started down her aisle. Allison panicked, and hurried around the corner. She saw more women coming into the store. Why did females always move in herds? She slipped past a few more aisles, over to the make-up. It was closer to the front of the store, and she breathed a bit easier for that. She could pick out what she needed and go. The exit into the mall beckoned her, but she only had a few more things to get.

There was so much to choose from, she felt slightly intimidated. Then she remembered Claire's list. She opened her bag and started digging around, trying to find it.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

The voice startled her, but not as much as the hand clamped around her arm, yanking her hand out of her bag.

She looked up, her eyes wide in outrage. She wasn't doing anything, just trying find something! What did this guy think he was doing?

Then she saw, in her own hand, the one the guy was holding up, the cat-shaped brush. In her other hand were the barrettes and head band. She really wasn't trying to steal anything, but she knew what it looked like. He must have thought she was trying to hide the brush in her bag. The guy, whose name tag said "Assistant Manager," and below that, "Clyde," glared down at her with piggy little eyes framed by horn-rim glasses. He looked to be in his early thirties, but he already had a shiny, sweaty bald spot circled with wispy, strawberry blonde hair. He had lots of big moles on his neck, which almost made her feel nauseous, along with the strong BO scent wafting over her. He wore a slightly wrinkled, white button-down shirt with short sleeves, and belted black pants. There was a clip-on tie attached to his collar.

And he had a tight, almost bruising grip on her wrist. Allison didn't really like other people touching her. And this guy's sweaty hand made her skin crawl. He started dragging her toward the back of the store. "Well, we'll just have to call your parents and the police, if you won't answer me." His voice was arrogant, and he almost sounded happy to have caught someone shoplifting. As if he'd been waiting for this moment ever since they handed him his "Assistant Manager" name tag.

Allison tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a squeak.

"Wait! It's ok, I'll pay for it." The guy stopped and turned. So did Allison. Her heart beat sounded loud in her ears when she saw Andy standing in the entrance of the very girly shop. Not a painting, not a sketch. The real thing. Without even seeming to think about it, he walked into the store and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and held out a ten toward the guy.

Clyde seemed to hesitate. His squinty eyes narrowed. He mopped some sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. When Andy sighed and replaced the ten in his wallet and pulled out a twenty, Clyde snatched it and let go of Allison. "Get out," he snapped. He wagged one sausage-fat finger in Allison's face. "I don't ever want to see you in here again."

She finally managed to find her voice. For some strange reason, she was trying to think of what Claire would do in a situation like this. "Don't worry," she said, nervous-angry and shaking. "I don't enjoy being manhandled by pigs like you."

She'd said it louder than she intended, and all of a sudden everyone was looking at the three of them. Clyde noticed the shocked glances, and more sweat popped out on his forehead. He looked around, seeing the horrified expressions on the mostly female faces of his customers. The woman behind the cash register wore a small grin. He turned on the two teenagers, his face reddening, but they were gone. He ducked out into the mall, but they had already been swallowed by the crowds of shoppers. As he turned to go back into his store, several customers swept passed him, glaring at him as they exited the store.

Andy stopped running when they got to his mom's car in the parking lot. Then he collapsed against it, laughing. Allison was laughing too, but hers was more of a nervous reaction. How had she had the guts to stand up to that guy? To yell at him like that?

"Whoo, he deserved that!" Andy said, still laughing.

Allison leaned against the car next to him. "Definitely."

"I thought you were a pro at thievery," Andy said, his blue eyes sparkling. "But I've got a tip for you: hide it before you leave the store."

"I actually didn't mean to steal it. I have money. Here, you should take it," she said, digging in her purse. She pulled out a wad of bills. Mostly ones. Her mother was a waitress.

Andy held up his hands. "No, no! It was worth it just to see that guy's face when you called him a pig."

"I will find a way to give the money back to you. I'm a thief. If I can sneak stuff out, I can sneak it back in."

Andy chuckled. "All right, tell you what. If you buy me some lunch, we're even." He was delighted when she smiled at him again.

"Deal."

"So what were you doing at the mall?"

"I could ask you the same question, Sporto. Last I checked, not many stores sell men's tights." Allison still had a bit of a high from telling off that jerk at the mall, and it made her more confident than usual. She sprinkled a package of sugar into her Coke, then pulled a small bag of peanuts out of her purse and emptied it into her drink as well.

Andy watched in horrified fascination, one mustard-y fry halfway to his mouth. They were at a local burger-slash-pizza joint. Andy had ordered two double cheeseburgers and two large fries. Allison had ordered pineapple and gummy worm pizza. When the waitress said they didn't have any gummy worms, Allison assured her she could provide her own. The waitress had walked away with a puzzled expression on her face, as if she wasn't quite sure of what she'd just heard.

After they had gotten into Andy's mom's car at the mall (sans Andy's mom), Allison was suddenly stricken with a bout of self-consciousness. Her clothes were dirty and wrinkled, and they didn't match. And her hair, despite her earlier efforts, was hanging rattily in her face. She hated that Claire's stupid makeover suddenly made her feel so horrible about herself. She had enough shit to worry about, without adding her appearance to the list. But Andy didn't say anything about it. He just kept looking over and smiling at her.

Like he was doing now, across the table. He had a great smile. It made him look like a little boy, and it really got to her.

After Allison had fixed her Coke the way she liked it, she pulled out a bag of gummy worms and started placing them strategically on her pineapple pizza. She took a big bite, loving the taste of warm pineapple and cheese. And the gummy worms gave it that extra bit of sweetness and texture.

"How can you..." Andy started.

"What?"

"How can you eat that?"

She grinned. "You want some?"

He looked like he'd rather have a lobotomy. "No."

Allison laughed at him, then continued eating. Andy, amazingly, finished his meal before she had even gotten halfway through her small pizza. He leaned back and burped.

"I'm sorry I didn't have enough to cover lunch," she said when she was done with her food.

He smiled at her. "That's ok. You can pay me back by having lunch with me tomorrow."

Allison's eyes widened. "At school?"

"No, in Italy. Of course at school." He was looking at her with those bright, blue-with-a-touch-of-green eyes. "What's the matter?" he said gently. "Afraid to be seen with me?"

She laughed once, nervously. "What will your friends think?"

"They'll think I'm insane for not having asked you out sooner."

Allison was speechless; not an unusual condition for her, but an odd experience nonetheless. She didn't know what to say to a comment like that. No guy had ever said that to her before.

"Just say yes," Andy said, as if he were listening to her inner turmoil. "Please?"

The "Please" did it. She smiled uncertainly, but she answered, "Yes."

"Good."

After that, they lapsed into a mostly comfortable silence as Allison ate a little more pizza. She watched him, though, and she could see his demeanor changing. He went slowly from jovial and goofy to looking almost depressed. She started asking him questions about school, trying to figure out what it was that was making him so unhappy. They talked about teachers they had in common, and some of Claire's ditzy friends. Andy told Allison that not all of Claire's friends were ditzy. Some were really nice. He said that her nice friends probably were not the ones Claire was worried about.

"Well, if the ones she's worried about aren't nice, why is she so worried about them?"

Andy shook his head. "I don't know. Probably because they're the ones more apt to do horrible things to her if she doesn't 'follow the crowd.'"

Allison was confused. "If they might do horrible things to her...why is she friends with them?"

Weariness seemed to sweep over him. "I don't know. But I remember Claire in middle school. She was pretty awkward and shy, until this group of girls 'adopted' her as their project. They told her what to wear, and how to look, and then all of a sudden she was popular. I guess she feels pretty loyal to them for that."

Allison tried to imagine Claire as awkward and shy, and couldn't quite manage it. "How do you know so much about her?"

"One of my buddies dated one of her friends, briefly, and the girl got really drunk at a party one night, and was regaling me with stories of how she's the one who made Claire Standish popular."

That struck an uncomfortable chord with Allison. Was she just Claire's project? A month from now, would Claire would be at a party, really drunk, bragging to everyone that she was the one who had made Allison Reynolds popular? Well, guess what, Claire? I don't want to be popular. She started to get angry, but then she noticed Andy's growing unhappiness, and tried to lighten the mood. "So, in other words, she was Dr. Frankenstein?"

Andy looked surprised for a second, then he burst into laughter. When he could come up for air, he choked out, "It's alive! It's alive!" and made himself laugh all over again. Allison watched in fascination. She much preferred happy Andy to mopey Andy. Mopey Andy made her nervous. She worried that she might, in some way, be the cause of his mopishness.

He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "That was good. Hey, are you done eating?" he said, noticing she'd pushed away her half-eaten pizza. She nodded, and Andy gestured to their waitress. The waitress brought her back a box, and they left the restaurant.

When they got into the car, Andy sighed. He looked very tired again. He started the car, and exited the parking lot. When he'd gotten back onto the road, he said he needed to go home so he could get another work-out in. He sounded very, very tired. What was the matter with him?

"Why were you at the mall today?" she asked.

He chuckled quietly, but there was no humor in it. He didn't answer right away, just drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along with whatever mindless glam rock was playing on the radio. "I got my wish," he said finally.

"What wish is that?"

He clenched his jaw, and his lips got very thin. "My dad's ignoring me. He's pretending I don't exist."

"Why would he do that?"

"I told him I wanted to quit the wrestling team."

She was quiet for a few moments. "Do you?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I don't know what I want to do. I just thought that maybe if I told him something like that, he would actually start listening to me. Instead he shut me out completely. He wouldn't even say 'Good Morning' to me today, so I left."

Allison nodded. She understood. She couldn't remember the last time her mother had said 'Good Morning' to her. Probably because her mother was never awake in the morning. She didn't normally drag herself out of bed until three or four in the afternoon. And, well, since she only saw her dad twice a year, he didn't count as a parent.

"Oh, turn here," she said as they approached her street. She'd been so lost in thought, she almost missed it. "That one," she pointed to her house. Andy stopped in front of it. She was gathering her packages, when she felt his hand on her arm. When she turned to look at him, he was smiling again. But there something serious in his expression.

"I'm glad we ran into each other today. That we could see each other, y'know, before Monday."

"Why is Monday so important?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just have a feeling that there might be some bullshit when people see all of us together. And I wanted to let you know, before all the possible craziness, that I like you. A lot. And I want to be friends, if not--if not more."

She was speechless again. He seemed to have that effect on her. He just knocked the words right out of her. She wanted to ask if he really thought they were all going to be together on Monday, but all she could manage was an "Okay." He tightened his grip on her arm, and pulled her gently toward him. Oh, my God, he's gonna kiss me again. And he did, gently at first. She closed her eyes, nervous and excited at the same time. When he slid one hand behind her neck, she got tingles. When he deepened the kiss, she repeated the gesture, latching her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair.

Finally the kiss ended, and they pulled away. Allison ducked her head, suddenly shy. She could feel her cheeks burning. "See you tomorrow?" he said.

Allison glanced up at him and nodded, gathered up her bags and got out of the car. She waved as he pulled away, watching until she couldn't see the car anymore. Then she practically ran into the house, through the dark interior into her bedroom, and slammed her door. She didn't have words for what she was feeling, but she could bet that Hildegaard did. She put on a record of the 12th century nun's chants, then started ripping prints and sketches off of her wall. She needed a large, blank canvas.