Fresh Meat

Chapter Six: The Art Class

"Friendship makes a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing."

- Elie Wiesel

PHOEBE

Saying that I loved art was a major understatement.

Art was my life. I was basically doodling by the time I came out of the womb. Or at least since my uncle taught me. He was the one who introduced me to it, and I couldn't be more grateful.

Since then, my life has always focused on art. I spent my weekends sitting at my dining room table with my coloring books, and art supplies scattered all around me. My Christmas and birthday wish lists were always asking for new art supplies, sketchbooks and more. Whenever me and my uncle had a day outing, I always wanted to spend it at art museums. No matter how many times I went there, I always marveled at every piece of artwork there. Art had completely taken over my life, and I wasn't complaining.

Being recognized for my art was kind of my life goal. I wanted people to look at it and be amazed by it, to be inspired to create amazing artwork of their own. And what better way to reach that goal than by taking an art class? I did take them in middle school, and my uncle was technically an artist who taught me everything he knew, there was nothing wrong with learning more.

So as soon as the first bell rang, I said goodbye to my friends and headed toward the art department of the school. As I walked down the hallways, I kept thinking about how dull the walls looked. They were very different from the ones in our middle school. The walls there were much brighter and gave out a pleasant mood. Compared to the walls here, it felt more like a prison than a school. But maybe I could be able to change that somehow. Hopefully.

I reach classroom 218, where the door is already open for students to walk in. As soon as I stepped in, I instantly knew I was in an art classroom. The walls were covered with various paintings of all forms of art. There were cabinets and drawers with art supplies such as markers, colored pencils and squeeze bottles of paint. There was a drying rock in one corner of the room. In the back of the room was a sink, and the counter had paper towels and cups full of paintbrushes beside it. Next to the teacher's desk was a giant vertical corkboard, with a sign at the top of it that read ART GALLERY. And next to the front door was a wooden shelf. Each one was labeled by period. This was exactly the type of art room I imagined.

Most of the students were already sitting at some of the tables. Normally I would sit at an empty table, but this time was different. While I loved my friends, they weren't into art as much as I was. And I had no problem with that; I wanted to talk to someone with the same love for art as me. Maybe this was the change to change that.

I went over to one of the tables and sat down next to a girl. She didn't even spare me a glance, but I wasn't bothered. I had all period to talk with them.

The bell rang, and a woman suddenly appeared out of nowhere and closed it. She had her curly blond hair in a tight bun, and there was both a pencil and a paintbrush in it too. She was wearing a flower-patterned shirt that went all the way down to her flats. She walked over to the front of the classroom and clapped her hands together. "Okay, hello everyone! I'm Miss Halsey. Welcome to 2-D Studio Art! We're going to be doing a lot this year."

She went over to the chalkboard and wrote down what I assumed to be the agenda for this period on the board. Then she turned to us. "Now! How many of you have been drawing only recently?" she asked. I saw four or five people in the classroom raise their hands. "And how many of you have been drawing for a while?" The rest of the class, including me, raised their hands. She nodded before mumbling, "Okay, that's good." She clapped her hands loudly again, and this time I jumped slightly.