I never thought

about my major

Jake kept staring at the blob of green on his brush. Green, one he mixed himself. A bit of yellow here, dash of white there, a swipe of blue on top, bigger dash of white there, and why not some pink in the center.

He glanced from brush, to canvas, to vase. It was a tall round pitcher, with a Greek myth painted along the neck. Bright red and shiny. And yet, he decided to use green first, starting to paint the outline of the antique.A green that didn't fit. A green he didn't like. Sewage, really. Decaying rot that didn't deserve to be placed on his canvas. It matched his shirt.

Jake jumped a bit as a hand tapped his shoulder. He pulled his headphones out, music long over. He turned to face his professor, a short and robust woman with brunette hair and a floral button up. She looked at the painting, then back up at Jake.

"Jacob, I like the initiative. And the mixing. But," She tapped his pallate, a blank picture frame with globs of the rainbow on it. "The assignment is to use the hues of just one color."

Jake felt his face heat up, staring at the canvas. He picked up his pallate knife and started scraping the paint off.

"Right."

The professor walked to the next student, starting to pick apart her composition. Jake sighed and crossed an arm over the other, squeezing himself. Class started five minutes ago. And he already wanted to leave.

"This is why I'm not an art major," he mumbled, using a paper towel to clean off his tools.

"It's a harder major than it seems." Came a snarky voice.

Jake glanced over at the student beside him, her easel set up so he was facing the back of her canvas. The girl was obviously an artsy type, hair bleached halfway down and done up in a messy bun. Open washable markers were stuck in her hair, seemingly holding the hairdo up. She was in an apron that had seen many years of clay, oils, acrylics and maybe even blood. She looked up from her work, snakebite piercings glimmering.

"We spend hours out of class copying down Picasso. Stand the whole time too."

Jake smirked a bit, tapping his palate with the wooden handle of his paintbrush.

"Says the girl sitting down."

She chuckled and twisted her hips in response, old office chair squeaking as it turned. She relaxed and went back to painting, rapid strokes as the oil paint was slapped onto the stretched canvas.

"So, Jacob right? What's your major then?"

Jake shrugged and dunked his brush in paint thinner, letting it soak.

"Yeah, Jake." He waved her off, starting to decide what color he should even go with.

"Just. Y'know." He spun a hand around, wrist popping a bit. "General stuff."

The girl raised a brow, hand pausing mid stroke.

"Aren't you a sophomore?" She asked, a bit accusing.

Jake didn't look at her, deciding to mix the maroon and white to get a lighter base color.

"How did you know?"

"Freshman orientation last year. Hard to miss the giant Indian missing a leg."

Jake glanced over to her, not responding. The girl nodded once, sharp.

"The name's Janis. Art club vice President."

Jake blinked, thinking before smiling back.

"Jake Dillinger. President of not-having-a-club club."