Don't Tell Him He's In Love With A Genius

:Genius: Chapter Eleven

Monday morning came and went quickly. By Tuesday I was tired and stressed. I knew I wouldn't be able to finish my book until at least August, maybe even September. I had Art second lesson and the only person I knew in it was Harred. I didn't know why I had to take Art, because I was exceptionally rubbish at drawing anything unless tracing, but with Harred by my side I believed I could manage it through the lessons. But the idea of making it through them without getting more detentions seemed increasingly unlikely.

"-then he turned to me and said, 'Harred, no one would buy a football with a dead fish it, it smells like Tuna!'" I burst out laughing, and not because the story was funny, just that Harred had a way of bringing out the laughter in people.

"Mr. Young, where is expressive picture you were supposed to be drawing the past twenty minutes." Harred froze, turning to his blank piece of paper before looking at the teacher, Mr. Hough. Mr. Hough was a strict man with little to no intention of allowing anyone to pass this subject. He rarely saw artist talent in anyone and hated when people saw Art as a easy pass.

"It's here, sir." He gestured to the empty canvas. I raised an eyebrow, interested in how he was going to weasel his way out of this- or try to. Mr. Hough seemed to have the same thoughts as I.

"Then please, enlighten Miss Bostan and myself to what is really on this canvas, if not nothing." Harred smiled lightly, as if he really thought there was something on the canvas.

"It represents someone who is hiding behind themselves." He replied, looking admiringly at his work.

"Could you elaborate on that?" Mr. Hough looked sceptical.

"This person it's portraying is trying to hide itself from people knowing the truth about it. In case they judge, in case they don't accept it. In case they turn away because of their own selfish dream of what that person should be. The person it's portraying is Jane," I froze, looking at him wide eye, he couldn't- "and you, and I. The person it's portraying is everyone, as long as everyone thinks it's there, it will be." I slowly let my self relax, sending a glare towards Harred as he winked at me. I silently impressed by his lie; it was a good one and Mr. Hough bought it.

"That's very inspirational of you, Mr. Young. If you please, try to draw these emotions, without leaving them blank. Though it is the beauty of Art that you have captured so fully." As he turned I let my mouth hang open. Harred turned to me, leaning on his 'art work'.

"That my friend, is how you bullshit a teacher." I didn't reply. I had to stop my frantic heart. What he described was the perfect reason why the age, person and everything about myself was kept secret from my fans. I through him an impressed look and turned back to my work hoping he didn't see my reaction.

After the short break between lessons I had English, and Asha, Harred and Bim- Natalie was no where to be seen. I assumed they had a training session for the Gifted Champions, which was drawing closer and closer. It was only four days until the semi-finals of the Gifted Champions, meaning that if Asha and her team defeated the Brazilians, they would go on to the finals in London. The semi-finals were to be held here at Grace Valley, the decorating committee had been working on the Assembly hall for the past week, and yesterday some TV presenters came to see how it was going. The school was in a frenzy.

In English, Mack picked on me all through the lesson, and as it ended I had thoroughly embarrassed myself, thinking a parentheses were a dictionary specified for parents and I had to have the red headed girl with freckles who sat just along from where Asha sat explain to me what Propp's Theory was and how it effected how we wrote a story. Mack's attitude in lessons were almost bipolar. He would be strict and extremely smart, but he had an attitude that kept you interested and his playful tone and suggestive comments gave the other students an increased draw to him. Once the lesson had finished Mack kept me behind again, since I had a free lesson. I sat behind a desk with a notebook and in the first five minutes made notes that would take an uneducated person like Jane Bostan at least half an hour. The rest of the time Mack and I talked.