The Artist

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As I slowly write my last few lines, carefully making each one special, I feel excited to know that it is mine. Unfortunately, just as it came, it went. The paper slid right out from under my closely circled arms. I turn to see that Alex had slid it out from under me. He starts to read it with a deep smirk on his face. But I can see it slowly fade to nothing more then a blank stare. Of what… I don’t know. Surprise? Disgust? There was almost a quizzical look on his face. He slowly hands the paper back, not to me, but to the now empty table where it came from. We just sit there in silence. The only sound in the room was the quiet noise of pencils on the paper, but then even that sound seemed to stop at one point. I looked up to see all the blue, green and brown eyes staring at me- for what I don’t know. I only drew a simple sketch. A dark silhouette swallowed my small form. Mrs. Brown stood hovering over me and as she stood next to me, it felt like all I could see were her legs. She already stood as tall as a skyscraper and with the added 5 inches from her ruby red heels, she was the giant and me and my classmates, specks of gray dust.
She dragged m e down the hall way- the floors echoing the sounds of her heels. It seemed to have collected the classes attentions. For every time we passed a room, I could feel the eyes of the students in that class. We reached the counselor’s office. I was told to sit on the worn old couch. The springs beneath its olive green cover gave way as I sat obediently. Slight mumbles from the other room drifted into the lobby. I could only make out a few word like, “What are we to do……”
“I would have never guessed……”
“And for her to even…” It was all faded and hard to hear. I slowly got up from my seat to have a better listen. All I could hear was the sound of heels clicking and clacking in unison coming down the hall for me, it was almost like the beating of a drum before you’re sentenced and killed.
They entered the room looking rather suspicious- Mrs. Brown towering over Miss. Brockman, of course. She had a nicer touch to her-Miss. Brockman. She was new to teaching and had a gentler fashion sense than most teachers. She sat next to me and took my hand. Looked me straight in the eyes and I did the same to her. I looked deep into her emerald green eyes.
She asked me, “Melissa have you ever taken any art or drawing classes”.
I simply told her “No. My father thinks it outrageous and a waste of time to simply draw for a living. He says that you should work hard on something important for a living”.
She shook her head sadly and then stood up. I could feel the couch relaxing as she did. Mrs. Brown held out the drawing I did. I didn’t really have a chance to look at my drawing. It look somewhat like a little valley town. You could clearly see the cobble stone streets and how worn they were from all the travelers and wagons, and even the playing children. The baker was setting out a pie to cool. The seamstress was giving a little girl a fitting for the upcoming ball. It even showed the old widow with the pleasant company of some children and a cup of tea.
I didn’t see why they thought this was a magnificent piece of work. The page was covered by the dull line of erased pencil. I mean, I had better ones in my folder. I drew ones of a little boys fishing and lilies sprouting from the first spring. This was by far not one of my best.
“Well, what do you want me to do? Go to the principal, call my parents for not paying attention in class?!” It’s not like they would answer any way I thought to my self a questioning frown curling my rosy lips.
Mrs. Brown just looked at me- almost like she was gazing somewhere deep through me. All I could do was just return the gaze, but my stare was no match for her gleaming brown eyes. Over the years, she has mastered the art of “the stare.” With one look, she could either be giving you a look of sweet sympathy or one of cold disgust- a look that made you shiver in your own skin.
“ Well, we will discus this matter on a later note. With your parents present,” she added curtly- her ice cold stare still on me as I stood up from the ivory couch. The springs echoed behind me as I walked slowly down the silent hall to class.
Everyone surrounded me as I came in the room- now noticing that Mrs. Brown was not with me.
“ What did they do?”
“ Did you get suspended?”
“Are you going to JUVIE!!?”
To all the questions I was peppered with, I answered a calm, “No”. Then, we heard the sound of her solid heels knocking at the door. Quickly, we stumbled over one another scrambling to return to our seats. As she entered the classroom, you could see a few stray hairs falling through the air.
The day went by slower then a snail race. It seemed as if all the teachers already knew about “the incident” that occurred earlier that day. It seemed as if word had traveled through the grade like that of fire rolling onward through the grasslands. Finally, when the ball rang I felt relief quickly leaving my body as if it was steam in a sauna. But then, I heard a voice,
“Melissa, we would like you to stay after for a little while.” Then my heart just stopped and my stomach dropped. I couldn’t even respond.
I simply asked, “Do you mind if I tell my driver I’ll be staying late?If I don’t, my mother will through a fit not knowing that I’m all right,” I added with a good girl, cheery smile.
“ Of course,” she responded. So gullible I thought with a smirk as I walked out to see Hennery waiting for me, as usual. I swiftly hopped into the car, buckled my self in, and drove home to what I know as my sanctuary of a home.





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