White Teeth Teens

12. Negative Space and Positive Vibes

In Drawing Class on Monday, Mr. Tom starts passing out sheets of paper to each of us. He's wearing cowboy boots that thump on the floor with every step. "Okay," thump "I'm handing out" thump "your first assignment," thump. "This week we are going" thump "to continue with" thump "negative space."

He stops by my desk. "We'll combine negative space and rendering. You'll pick a partner and each of you will draw your partner's negative space portrait and their shadows. Due on Friday. Take a moment to pick your partners and then we'll get to the lesson."

The room started buzzing the second Tom mentioned partners. I figure I'll be with Logan but when I turn to him, I see he's making eye contact with a boy in class from the Film Club, who nods back. There's a tug at my shirt. I turn to see Ben leaning towards me.

"Partner?" he asks. I nod, blushing. Liz is going to be jealous.

After class, Ben and I exchange phone numbers and figure out a time to meet.

"I was thinking maybe we could do it at this playground near my house. Practice ends around five but I could probably get Coach to let me leave early tomorrow. Then we can draw right in time for the sunset."

"Whoa, you've really thought this out." I smile.

Ben scrunches his face. "Well, it's not like you really have to apply your mind in this class."

"Where's the playground?" I open the Notes app on my phone, ready to write down the address.

"I'll pick you up," Ben says. "And I'll shower after practice, so I won't smell. Don't worry."

"Okay," I stuff my phone into my pocket. "I gotta get to History class. I'll see you later."

Ben heads down the hallway.

At four o'clock on Tuesday, I look at myself in the mirror and debate whether or not to put on more make up. I normally stick with eye shadow, but should I run eyeliner along my lids? Some mascara? And is this flannel too plain? He is just drawing my outline, but that's obviously not the point.

A voice in the back of my head tells me that boys like girls who don't care about all that materialistic stuff and dressing up. It's probably Liz's voice, sounds like something she'd say.

She talked my ear off in excitement when I told her about this drawing project. So I keep on my purple flannel, jeans, and lace up my Converse sneakers.

Ben arrives at my house right at five and I slip out the door before anyone starts asking questions.

"Don't worry, I showered," he says when I open the car door. His hair is still a little wet. It makes him look even cuter.

I slide in to the front seat with my drawing pad on my lap. He's listening to Gorillaz on the stereo. I'm thankful that he's not a Lil Wayne fan.

We weave through the narrow streets on the east side of Duncan Valley where the forest's trees bow overhead. Ben turns into a rocky parking lot with a sign for "Cannon Park." The playground is right beside it.

"My mom took me here when I was a kid," he explains.

I nod. "I should bring Colin here."

The structure of the playground is rusted over and the green paint is chipping off. I move my fingers along the rungs of the merry-go-round and push so it spins 180 degrees, squeaking loudly. Ben takes a pencil out of the pocket of his coat and straddles the horse spring.

"Wanna go first?" he asks, flipping his drawing pad to a fresh piece of paper.

I nod my head and place my pad on the woodchips. I look around, trying to find the best place. The sun is already illuminating the playground in bright orange. It really does look beautiful... Too bad we're only drawing in grey. I choose the swing but I think it will make a good shape.