The Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold

✖ Chapter 18 ✖

Once class was done, I headed straight for the arts room. I needed to see what I had to work with, because if I needed something that was unavailable I for sure was not going to put it from my pocket. My steps echoed like stomps in the hallway and I was aware that I was throwing a tantrum. I figured the universe could at least concede me that much.

The arts room was full of freshmen doing extracurricular lessons. They all looked up as I stormed in, but I ignored them and headed for the back, where a couple of the folks from the committee were waiting.

"We're here to help," Trevor said. The girl next to him nodded. "Just tell us what to do."

I dumped my tote bag in his waiting arms and pulled out my notebook and pen. I set out to inspect the many cabinets and lockers of supplies. When it came to paints, brushes and lacquers we were good. The problem was the canvas. That was when I pulled out my notebook and scribbled down a couple of notes that I tore and handed to each of them.

After reading them, they both looked up. The girl, whose name I thought was Laura, said, "Where are we going to get all of this?"

I gave them both a sullen look and Trevor guessed at its meaning. He returned my bag to me and to the other girl said, "C'mon, we should be able to help with this much." Then he glanced at me, "We'll try to be quick."

"Good," I muttered, plopping on a seat. "I need all the time I can get."

As they left in search of the materials I needed, I opened my notebook to a blank page to make a sketch of the picture I'd seen earlier in my mind. Realistically I only had about three hours after school each day plus Saturday to do this. It sounded like a lot, but I knew that good art wasn't something that should be rushed. As I traced lines on the paper I asked myself if this had to be good art. This was a high school dance, for goodness's sake, not a piece I was meaning to enter for a contest or something. It didn't have to be perfect. Art was the one thing in my life that allowed me to not be perfect, and now I suddenly felt all this pressure about it and it was all Sawyer's fault and his big mouth's.

I was going to kill him the next time I saw him, which in light of the events wasn't going to be at all this week. I'd already told Mr. Davies about the change of plans, not even mentioning that Sawyer had approached me about a week long vacation first. Of course our teacher was fine with the development. The look of surprise on his face when he found out I was in charge of making a new art piece had bothered me. It shouldn't have, because I'd never told him. And he hadn't been the only one. Matt and Ryan had also looked pretty shocked. It was as though people had thought I was too uptight for something soft and intangible like art.

I pressed my lips and drew darker lines, reminding myself that at the end of the day this wasn't Sawyer's fault but mine. Despite trying my best to hide them, I'd carelessly let him see my doodles before. Despite trying to cultivate an air of logic and hard work and intellectualism, eventually someone was going to realize that art was really what ran through my veins. And that someone happened to be him.

I pushed the somewhat finished sketch away with a huff and grabbed my phone to find instructions to make a canvas. I'd never made one from scratch, but I'd seen videos before. Also, I knew that if we bought a canvas big enough to function as a backdrop for the pictures, it would cost a fortune. This was the only way. I had to make it today so that it was primed and ready to start painting tomorrow after class.

Trevor and Laura returned with all the materials as the class was ending. The art teacher helped us prepare the room so that there was enough space for all of us. I was thankful that they'd stayed to help me because the wooden bars were too long for me to properly handle and align by myself. A few splinters later and many grunts of frustration, the frame was assembled and the canvas fabric was stapled in place and cut to size. They helped me stand the canvas up and I realized it was large enough that I'd require a step ladder to paint the top portions. We gathered all the things I'd need for the next day and locked up.