Life Imitates Art

Part 9 - The Exception

Armed with a new set of rules that only apply to me, it's even easier to feel like a fish in acid. The school never really appealed to me, but I felt this was exactly where Mum and Dad wanted me to be. So when it came to the independent entrance exams, I absolutely smashed them. There was no question that I would have the pick of the schools. But with Tess at an all-girls school and thriving, I think they thought I could do the same on the typically tougher side of the force. It so far hasn't gone exactly to plan. And now, I'm basically the school pansy. I'm the one who's got the reputation for having a glass chin and telling on people, even though neither is true. Bryn likely aimed further up than my chin, and I wasn't even around to complain about it to anyone other than Carsley. From there, it's out of my hands. But yeah, it won't help to add that to my already glowing resume of being the freak that draws girls in a book instead of drawing them towards me.

I walk the lonely road up to our castle of a school. It seems wholly unnecessary to have this big a building for a school, especially for a small one like mine. It looks more like a shooting estate or a prestigious country club. Hm, two more ideas for Maxine adventures. I'll note those down.

I shouldn't be so pessimistic about the changes. They will allow me to draw in complete peace and solitude. It should be something to celebrate. Around these parts, differentness isn't a triumph. It's a target. An albatross around the neck. But how much more different could I be to all the other boys?

"Sir. I didn't know this lesson was going to be outside." This almost definitely has a rubbish punchline to it. He's already smirking, this student who I couldn't pick out of a police line-up given his name.

"What do you mean? We are inside the classroom." Why tee him up? This is like a lay-up now.

"Well, why is there a grass sat at the back?" The sniggers are cut through with an obnoxiously loud bellow of a laugh from the boy sat beside him. I'm almost impressed. I guarantee you he looked it up before saying it. No way that his brain can process that joke and punchline on its own. Not that making any point like that helps.

One of the brutes turns to point at me. 'That's you, you grass!" Thanks, I got that much.

"OK, enough of that. We have work to do." He's hiding a smile too. Even the teachers find it amusing.

There isn't much more to say about classes, and I manage to survive morning break without having my skull caved in. Always a plus! In any case, it's now time for the new rules to come into play. Everyone else disperses into the lunch hall. I wait for ten minutes. It might be worth switching to packed lunches.

That thought pops into my mind once again as I see the lunch options when I finally enter the hall myself. Most of the kids are already outside, giving me full license to pick and choose from the remains. It's a simple case of taking what's left, so I take a plate of mince and potatoes, neither of which are steaming anymore, and cake with custard, which is cold from the start. A bottle of water completes the riveting meal. I walk back up the same narrow stretch of the hall, only to be stopped by a deputy who hasn't received the message.

"Excuse me. You can't take food through to the corridors or classrooms."

"You can ask Mr Carsley. He specifically told me to do this from now on."

The deputy doesn't buy it. He rushes off to find out the truth while I stand in the hall, holding the tray of ever-cooling food. He returns two minutes later.

"It has been noted that you will be given special clearance from this point on."

"Thanks. I'll go now." I predict that he forgets about this in a few days.

I enter the maths room where, sure enough, Mr Trundell sits at his desk.

"Ah, hello Max! Mr Carsley informs me that you will be here at lunch from now on."

"Yeah, that's right." I sit in a desk close to the front, not wanting to seem rude. I tuck into my lukewarm lunch.

"Can I get you anything?"

"If you have a microwave, I'd use that!" He chuckles, and I do too. Then, we are just two loners. He does whatever. I eat my meal in tranquil loneliness and open my sketchbook. A quick sip of water, then I flick through to find the page I'm working on. It's a concept of Max...Maxine, even, in a dress, still a basic one. That slip was bloody Tess' fault! I am not Maxine, just to clarify.

With the help of some music, I work on most of the tips I've seen online. I use my phone to find a picture of the dress I want to copy and make a rough trace of the outline. I add the bow to the outline as well, then solidify some of the features with a darker pencil. And by that, I just mean the same pencil but more force applied. I left my expensive pencils at home today, not quite sure what sort of taunting or teasing or flat-out assault was waiting for me. Now knowing I have this protected window, I'll be a bit bolder about bringing the kit. For now, though, this is fine. I note down possible ideas for the dress pictures. Maxine at the beach is one that keeps coming back to me. A dress would mean I can keep it tasteful.

Mr Trundell walks over to me, though I'm unaware until he's right over my shoulder, and I have no idea how long he has been there.

"The bell will go in five minutes, just so you are aware. I didn't want to interrupt you, but I felt you would lose track of time."

"That's OK. Thanks for the reminder." I expect him to walk off again, but he stays.

"This is an interesting hobby you have. Drawing dresses."

"It's just for a character. Drawing girls is my thing, as creepy as that sounds."

"No, I think it's perfectly fine. You clearly have the talent." And he walks off.

"Thanks." It's the last word before I pack up my things and head to the next class.

"I'll be seeing you more often, Max. Have a nice rest of the day, and be careful."

It may be the first time anyone has spoke to me like a human all year. I don't know what to do with it. I just quietly nod and leave. I'm so used the robotic discourse with AI Carsley that I can forget these teachers are people too. At least some of them are. At very least, one is.