Forget Me (Adore You Pt. 2)

Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

I had Noah for art. Apparently, he got along well with the teacher. She gave him a hug as he came into the classroom.

Strange.

The teacher, Ms. Harris, was unlike all the other Trinity teachers I've had. Trinity teachers either fell into two categories. Either they were intense, gave a lot of homework, and drilled you in class like an army sergeant, or they were like Ackerman and sat on their desk all the while you worked on a packet that made War and Peace seem like a pamphlet. When you were done with several of those packets, they would give you an exam.

Ms. Harris did not fit either of those categories. She was kind of a hippie, she played Bob Marley and Toots and Maytals as we worked, and her room smelled like sandalwood. She wore Teva sandals with her button-up shirt and artisanal jewelry like earrings made of bottle caps and purses from repurposed license plates.

Her assignments were open-ended to "encourage our creative voices to come out."

This week the assignment was impressionist art. We just had to paint something emulating the style; it could be our own, it could be a copy. I was painting Monet's water lilies in a different color scheme.

"Cecilia," She said as she stood next to me.

"Hi," I said shyly.

"This is very nice," she said, sounding surprised.

"Thank you," I answered, not expecting the compliment.

"I liked the sketches you did last week as well," she said, and I blushed. I never had anyone other than Robbie ever say anything about my artwork.

"See me after class, Cecilia," she said and pat me on the shoulder as she walked to see what the student next to me was doing.

I went back to painting my water, Lillies. I giddy nervousness in my stomach. It quickly soured.

"Hmm yeah, they aren't that bad, though your brush strokes are a bit lacking," said a voice behind me.

I jumped in my seat, "Can you not?" I said, rubbing the canvas where I smudged the paint.

"Sorry, just curious to see your masterpiece," Noah said, using air quotes around the word masterpiece.

I let out a long breath, "well, thanks but no thanks for your critique."

"I'm just trying to be friendly," he said, grinning, and I imagined shoving the back of my brush up his nose.

"Okay, everyone, start cleaning up. Please pick up the sheets off the floor and throw them in the washer."

The floor in Trinity was either marble or beautiful mahogany wood, so we had to place tarps and sheets on the floor to protect it.

As I was picking up my tarp, I snuck a look at Noah's canvas. He was had completely ignored the directions and was painting a sketch of the class. He was good. Way better than I was.

"It's not for sale, but I'm willing to make some exceptions," he said, standing next to me and considering his canvas with a hand under his chin.

I scoffed and took my tarp to one of the washing machines in the back.

When my area was cleaned up, I walked up to the Professor at the end of the class; she was smaller than I was and liked to kneel on her desk chair.