Girl Meets Second Chances

seventeen

"Come on you stupid thing!"

Maya slams her palm into the old vending machine, watching as her pack of skittles hangs tauntingly from its D3 slot. It's the third time this week that she's made the mistake of stopping here and now after wasting fifteen minutes hammering her fists into the rundown thing, she's left staring helplessly into its streaky plexiglass display. She lets out a groan, just about ready to accept defeat and count herself out of a dollar, but as she sends one last frustrated kick against the vending machine's side, her skittles finally fall free.

"About time," she mumbles, leaning over to grab it before opening the pack and dumping a load of skittles into her mouth. She all but dances as she makes her down the hall, humming happily to herself as the tangy sugar twirls over her taste buds.

Unlike the rest of her classmates, she takes a detour away from the cafeteria, rounding a corner as the art room comes into view. The sight of it alone is enough to make her breathe a little easier but as she slips safely behind the door, seeing Zay perched comfortably in her seat and chatting with Mr. Jackson makes her pause.

"Speaking of our gifted little artist," he says, swiveling around in the stool to face her. "So, this is where you've been hiding out."

Although his tone carries its usual lightheartedness, he still raises an accusing eyebrow her way and she rolls her eyes in what she hopes is good nature.

"Nobody's hiding out," she says, stuffing her skittles into her pocket and heading over to grab her half-finished canvas from the drying rack. "I happen to have something called a deadline. The art exhibit, remember?"

She moves over and sets the canvas on the easel in front him, trying and failing to shoo him from her seat. To annoy her, he makes it a point to get up extremely slow and it takes everything in her not to yank him up by the collar of his shirt. Instead, she glances over at Mr. Jackson for back and he turns slightly to look at her from his spot at the sink.

"I was just explaining to Mr. Babineaux how big of a deal this exhibit is for you," he says, giving her a small smile before turning back to wash out the brushes from that morning's class.

"Yeah, well getting the chance to have my art shown in an actual museum..." She shakes her head a little. "I still can't believe it."

And considering that she let the deadline pass without submitting anything to even be considered for the exhibit, she's not exactly sure how she was chosen. She had asked Mr. Jackson as much when he told her she'd be the student representing Abagail Adams in the exhibit and he'd given her some vague response about submitting one of her older pieces. When she asked which one, he was all too happy to change the subject. She had thought it was odd to say the least, but was so excited about the opportunity that she brushed it off completely. Still, even now she wonders how she could have been so lucky.

"Well you definitely deserve it Maya," Zay assures her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as he finally moves out of her way so that she can sit.

"You definitely do Ms. Hart," Mr. Jackson adds. "You've earned this."

She slides onto the stool, giving each of them a grateful smile, not realizing how much she needed to hear those words until now. Lately, all she can think about is not being good enough to represent the school, about her art not measuring up, about failing miserably but for now those doubts slowly fade into the back of her mind.

"You know Ms. Hart," Mr. Jackson continues, shutting off the facet and laying the freshly washed brushes out on a paper towel. "Only a true artist has the ability to make a person feel what they're feeling or can give a person a view of the world through their eyes. You have that."