Lavender Monarch has Exactly Thirteen Fears

28. picasso? picasso.

 I walk into the hall June let me know his art show was in and immediately take a step back. It's much fancier than I was expecting and my black blouse and jeans make me feel extremely underdressed. June spots me and waves me over with a massive grin on his face.

"Congratulations!" I say while pulling him in for a hug. He's done art since primary school, but this is going to be his first time presenting anything in an exhibition. He has two paintings on display in here.

"Thanks," he says and takes a deep breath. "I'm so nervous about the judging. I feel like everyone else's work here is so much better than mine." I take a glance around and start to understand what he means. All the work here is of a really high standard, so it wouldn't surprise me if he felt intimidated. Especially since adult's work is being displayed here too and he is one of the youngest. The white walls start to feel a little claustrophobic.

"So what did you need help with?" I ask him. He takes my hand and leads me over to another room.

"With this," he says, pointing up at two paintings on the wall. I follow his line of sight immediately recognise the work as his. I lose my breath as I take it in. I can see out of the corner of my eye that he's studying my face for a reaction. It's beautiful. I can feel tears in my eyes, and my face is flushing.

The first one is of a little girl with rosy cheeks and wild hair braided over her ears. She's smiling and wearing a pale blue dress and white apron - just like Alice in wonderland. She has a daisy in her hand and is standing arms outstretched in a garden.

The second is the same girl on a trampoline, arms still outstretched and a wild grin. Only now, she's several years older. I read the title under his work, "The Girl Who Reached for Wonderland." I glance back up at the two smiling girls. I know without a doubt, they're both me. I can remember that day on the trampoline so clearly. At least I know why he was looking at me funny now.

"I just wanted you to see them first, before, you know everyone else got here," he says.Something about it really hits me hard. I look so happy, I've never seen myself that way, but he did. It's almost like he knows me better than I even know myself.

"June, this is beautiful," I say softly.

"Well, they're of you so I doubt you'd call them ugly," he jokes. I turn to him.

"Seriously, this is amazing. Why me, though?" I almost feel undeserving.

"Why not you? You are my best friend." He says this nonchalantly, like it, was a no brainer. I feel so honoured.

"Thank you," I say smiling before turning my eyes back to the pictures and this time I can't look away.

I spend the rest of the night walking around the exhibition looking ar various paintings by other artists. I get small smiles from strangers occasionally when they recognise me as one of the subjects. I still can't get over it, and he picked me. He must have spent hours agonising over the details, but he got is so perfect and beautiful. It feels like looking in a mirror, only ten times deeper.

Before I know it, the first hour has come and gone and its times for awards. I stand next to June, gripping his hand tightly as his family stands around us smiling.

"First place," announces the woman, "goes to.." June and I share a nervous glance. I hope with everything he wins something. He's been preparing for this for months, and I know how much it means to him. "Micheal Wittle with his 'Portraire L'oiseau'." The crowd erupts into applause, and a man with greying hair in a suit walks up to the stage. I squeeze June's hand. 

"It's okay. There's still second, third and fourth." I whisper. I silently pray for him. Second passes by too. A woman named Joan. Then third. Then fourth. They wrap up the awards, and I let out a heavy sigh. I look at June, and I can see the disappointment on his face even though he is evidently trying to hide it with a smile.