fANTasy girl

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Principal Skidmore walked me into the room. I knew it was the A.N.T. Farm, by the sheer chaos of the corners of the room. There was a computer set up in one, and right next to it was an art stand. Instruments were set up in the other corner.

"Ants, this is (Y/n). She's an arts prodigy. I hope you'll help her fit into this school like others helped you," Principal Skidmore said, immediately leaving.

"Hi, I'm Gibson. Welcome to the A.N.T. Farm!" Gibson said dramatically.

I giggled. "Thank you."

"I'm Chyna," a girl said.

"Nice to meet you," I replied.

"And I'm Olive. The creep over there is Fletcher," Olive said, pointing to the creative corner.

Fletcher waved sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but did she say art? Because that's kinda my thing."

"Oh, no. Arts. Performing arts. Singing, dancing, acting. I can paint a bit, but... not as good as these." I marveled at the paintings.

Fletcher blushed. "Thanks. I-I-I made them by hand."

"They're amazing."

~~~

We had Fletcher's paintings set up around the room. Wacky and I were the only ones looking around. I felt bad. This was definitely not going as planned. The three were waiting by a podium, looking for people to walk in.

"Welcome to the Fletcher Quimby auction. Now, before we start the bidding, I left my lunch money at home, so who can lend me five dollars? Five dollars. Do I hear ten dollars? Ten dollars. Ten dollars."

"Olive," Chyna said, cutting her off. "This is terrible. There's only two people here."

"Here, Olive," I said, digging through my wallet and finding a five-dollar bill. "And this is for the dance." I handed Chyna a twenty-dollar bill.

Chyna beamed. "Thank you so much, (Y/n)."

"Of course. It's my first dance, so I want it to be special," I admitted.

"You haven't been to a dance? Not even in middle school?" Fletcher questioned.

"I was homeschooled. The only time I got to leave the house was for concerts in the local band," I said.

Fletcher walked out of the room, mumbling some excuse about needing to go to his locker. A second later, a man stood in the doorway. He looked like he was in the lowest point in his life.

"Is this the Fletcher Quimby art auction?" a guy with an accent asked.

"Yes," Chyna said, the two girls rushing over to him.

"I am Gnocchi, perfumer to the stars. I design signature scents for all the celebrities. What does this smell like?" Gnocchi asked, spraying the three of us.

"Corduroy and... beard sweat?" I guessed.

"It's one of my best-selling colognes," Gnocchi explained. "Galifianakis. Is good, yes, no?"

"So, you're interested in Fletcher's art?" I changed the topic.

"Yes. I saw the preview of your auction online, and his paintings. They spoke to me. Literally, I heard them talk. To be fair, I was in perfume factory surrounded by a lot of weird chemicals," Gnocchi admitted. "I'd love to meet this artist. He's here, yes, no?"

"Unfortunately, you're too late. Fletcher's gone," Chyna explained.

"Yeah. He was here one minute and then, just like that, he left us," Olive added.

"Oh no! He's no longer with us?" Gnocchi questioned.

"I'm afraid not," Chyna answered.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Gnocchi said, making me confused. "You have my condolences."

"What? No. We didn't mean that he was-"

"Wait a minute. If he's dead, his artwork will skyrocket in value," Gnocchi said. "Are there any unsold paintings? I will pay top dollar!"

"I'm just going to..." I left the room to find Fletcher.

~~~

I walked into the dance. It was truly amazing. Decorations and lights made the gymnasium look a lot fancier. I was wearing an old dress covered in paint and paired it with some red shoes. I felt pretty for once.

"Hey, Chyna. Fletcher," I greeted them, smiling.

"Keep him company," Chyna said, pushing him toward me and running off.

Fletcher stared at me, then looked at my dress. "Is that printed, or are the stains real?"

"Might be real," I said sheepishly. "I made an expressional painting for art class, which honestly sucked, but this dress got ruined in the process."

"That dress expresses a lot. And you're gorgeous."

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