Flipped

Chapter 9- Running with Lies

Rose

"Hey, nice haircut!" Brianna says when she first sees me in art Monday morning. She takes her seat at the table across from me. "I was wondering when you were gonna trim that ish."

Kelsey laughs. "That's what I said."

Yes, she had said that as well. And now, like I did when she said it, I clench my fists under the table and take one long, deep breath before speaking. Counting one, two, three, four....

And breathe out.

"Yeah," I say in a monotone. "My parents decided it was time."

"Well it looks cool," Brianna remarks. "You could totally, like, spike it up now."

Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I plan to continue doing what I did this morning, which was brush it down so what little bangs I have left hang across my forehead and over my left eye. Sure it looks kind of emo, but it's the best I can do at this point. Until I grow it out to about as long as I had it before, and my dad makes me cut it again, and the cycle continues.

Thank goodness the bell rings before my friends can say anymore about my stupid hair. I need art right now like a heroin addict needs a fix.

"Good morning guys!" says Miss Vaughn. Today, her lips are a stunning vermilion that matches the color of her loose t-shirt. Her paint-splattered capris compliment that lovely hourglass figure that I'll never have. "How are your character blocks coming?"

There's a collective groan from the seven girls and three boys I share the class with. Ah yes, our character blocks. Our first major art project of the school year, due by the end of September, began as a hardened clay block (about two feet in width, length, and height) that we were instructed to design to reflect our personalities. All six sides have to be painted, and (the fact that most people struggle with) we're only allowed one draft because there's not enough money in the art budget to be wasting clay blocks.

Miss Vaughn laughs. "Oh come on, guys. We're here because art is fun, remember?"

"Not when it's painting blocks," grumbles Brianna, who has always been more of a drawer than a painter.

"Well take your time," says Miss Vaughn. "We've still got two weeks left to work!" The she turns on the radio and leaves us to work, seating herself at her desk where her own character block is in progress.

Another thing I love about Miss Vaughn: she insists on doing the same projects we do, with the same rules and deadlines. As if she's part of the class, as well as our instructor. I honestly think it's simply because she loves art so much.

I collect my block from the back shelf and bring it to our table with the paint supplies, followed by Kelsey and Brianna. I only have one face completed so far, and I'm sure you can guess what I painted....

"George, what is with your obsession with roses?" Brianna asks (not for the first time, I might add). I'm sure she doesn't mean it to come out scornfully, but poor Bri tends to have the vocal equivalent of resting bitch-face. "Nothing against guys who like flowers, of course, but you did the same shit in middle school. Just roses, roses, roses on everything."

"Yeah, don't you ever want to try for some variety?" Kelsey adds condescendingly, instead of reigning Bri in for being rude, like she usually does. They're both always rudest to me in the art room, taking every opportunity to critique my work, possibly because of the jealousy they've always harbored of my artistic abilities.

I try not to let it get to me.

"I like roses," I respond simply. "And this is a character block. You're supposed to paint things that represent you."