The Keeper

Light and Dark

Dean Finlay ambled into the art room as if he had all the time in the world. Then he dropped his leather shoulder bag on his chair, stacked his books on the desk, and ran his hands through his hair to brush it back from his eyes. Those glacier-blue eyes. It was no wonder all the girls fancied him. When he looked at you, there was an intensity that made most girls look away. Except for Martha, who he was looking at right now.

"I see we have a new victim in this class today."

The girls giggled again. Martha said nothing, but held his gaze. It seemed like minutes, but must have only been a second before he coughed and looked down at the register. All the girls' eyes were now on Martha.

"Martha Carson. Welcome to art and art history. I'm Dean Finlay and you could call me Dean, but the school insists that you call me Mr Finlay, so we're stuck with that."

The other girls giggled some more, but Martha kept quiet.

"Right, let's get back to our use of light, exemplified by the work of the Spanish painters we're studying. Can anyone explain to me what 'chiaroscuro' means?"

A raft of hands shot up, and the class started in earnest. Martha opened her sketchbook and began to draw. She was immersed in capturing the way a beam of sunlight picked out locks of hair in light and shade when she became aware of a presence behind her. She looked up to see Mr Finlay looking at the drawing she had done of him. His smile showed kindness, but his tone was less forgiving.

"Miss Carson, that sketch isn't without merit, but it's not what you're supposed to be working on."

"Chiaroscuro is the use of light and shade. I was demonstrating that, rather than writing about it."

"I'm afraid examiners in art history papers will need writing, Miss Carson. We're out of time now. Here's the textbook and your assignment book. I'd like you to write 500 words or more on what you understand by 'chiaroscuro' and hand it in to me tomorrow."

Martha looked down.

"Can you do that, or do you have a hot date this evening?"

The other girls laughed, and Martha flushed red from ear to ear. She said nothing.

"I'll take that as a yes. And a no," said Mr Finlay, as he walked back to his desk. He put his books and papers in his bag and zipped it shut as the bell rang. "See you all on Thursday."

The girls drifted out of class and Martha tried to blend in between them, desperate to disappear.

"That was a bit harsh," said a lanky girl with long, glossy dark hair, as they flowed through the corridor.

"It's no big deal," said Martha, as the blood rushed back to her face.

"Mr Finlay is normally really nice."

Martha said nothing and hugged her bag to her chest.

"My name's Amy, Amy Chen. And you're... Martha," the girl said, holding out her hand.

Martha let her bag drop to her side, shook her hand, and replied, "I know."

Amy laughed. "Don't let it bother you, Martha. See you later." And she peeled off towards the language block.

But it did bother Martha. She was hoping to cruise through these two years of school, unnoticed. And here she was, first day in the new school and very much noticed.