𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 ━ shawn hunter¹

5│JULIET FINDS HER GROOVE

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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴊᴜʟɪᴇᴛ ғɪɴᴅs ʜᴇʀ
ɢʀᴏᴏᴠᴇ ꒱


❝ 'COURSE, GOLLUM ❞

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"Now, this happens to be my favorite room in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. These abstracts are open to personal interpretations so I want each other to pick out a piece of artwork that speaks to you. Then, speak to us about how it speaks to you," Mr. Feeny told the class as they walked into the next exhibit.

Juliet studied each piece briefly to decide which one she wanted when movement caught her attention. Shawn and Angela had walked up to Cory and Topanga; the former pair had been spending quite a bit of time together since the break up which had only enforced her desire to have space from her friends. Still, she was close enough to hear their conversation as the dark-haired boy greeted the other couple. "Hey guys."

"Shawn and I have some great news," Angela announced.

"Hey, me too," Cory agreed.

"Shawn just got in to the photography program," the brunette said as she smiled happily up at him.

"And Angela got an A on her essay: 'Keeping My Black Identity When I Have Three Very White Friends,'" Shawn finished.

"That's great you guys," Topanga told them. "Cory, what was your good news?"

He held up a coin. "I found a penny."

"Oh. That's great too."

"Alright," Mr. Feeny called them back together as he stood in front of a painting. "Who would like to be the first to offer an interpretation of this for the class?"

Cory raised his hand and waved it in the air energetically. "Oh pick me, Mr. Feeny! Please! Please!"

"Well, how can I turn down that kind of enthusiasm? Alright, Mr. Matthews. Give us your interpretation."

The boy walked up to the painting and stared at it for a minute before he faced the class. "I see hands tearing at the fabric of America. You can almost see the old and bitter artist as he predicts total anarchy, higher taxes and the death of the American way."

"Excuse me, but that's totally wrong," a young, blonde girl spoke up from behind him.

He chuckled. "Are you lost little girl?"

"The painting is about the hope for the future and the joy of life. And the artist is not bitter," she explained patiently.

"Look, little girl. You're just a little girl! I'm eighteen years old and you're gonna try and tell me something?" Cory asked mockingly. "No, no, no. You just take your little 'joy of life' and pipe it, sister!" At their teacher's embarrassed motions, he turned to the older man. "What's your problem?"

"No problem," Mr. Feeny replied. "Keep talking. I'm going to enjoy this."

"Excuse me, Mr. Mean Man," the girl said, "but I know exactly what's in the painting."

"Oh, am I 'Mr. Mean Man?'" the boy echoed sarcastically. "Was I too mean to the little girl, hmm? Go ahead. You can tell me how you know what's in the painting. Go ahead."

"I painted it."

"Yeah, you painted it," he scoffed, then he reached forward to fold his thumb between his fingers, "and I've got your nose."