Starry Night: Les Artistes Sont Amoureux

one

The Sandra Van Pelt Art School.

My dream school, all the way in Germany. Started by Sandra Van Pelt, wife of the Chancellor of Germany in 1957, who believed that the arts were just as important as maths and sciences and all of that. I had dreamed of going there ever since I was a little girl, and I was finally standing in front of it. I looked up at the large building in awe. I saw kids hanging out on the steps, dancing, making music, and just creating. I breathed in the fresh air, relieved to be away from my house. My creativity was lacking there. I had no muse. Here, I would have a fresh start. 

I looked down at my room assignment again before walking around the large grey building in front of me to the campus behind it. The lengthy, green campus had six tall buildings, three lined up on each side, that looked like legitimate works of art. Like, kids had gotten out huge ladders to paint the walls of the buildings. I smiled at that before heading to the second building on the left. I cautiously made my way in, and immediately stopped in my tracks. The entire entrance hall was made of marble. Marble floors, marble statues, marble stairs. Then, the railing was made of silver. I stared around in awe, the only one who seemed baffled by both the outside and the inside of the building. Everyone else was just moving around, some strolling, some rushing. A girl wearing a paint splattered apron with dry paint stains on her jeans rushed past me, her light brown hair wound tightly in a braid. I smiled as I saw her jog. I knew I belonged here.

I took one last sweeping look of the hall before heading upstairs to my dorm. Once inside, I admired the room. It had white walls, a closet with dark wood doors, a vanity with a large, round mirror, and a bed on an old metal frame. The frame reminded me of an old princess bed, and I suddenly knew what my first project here would be. I set my things down in front of the closet and pulled out my huge bag of art supplies. Then, I got to work.

I opened the window in my room, pulled my mattress off the bed, slipped on a paint mask and gloves, covered the walls and floor with a blue tarp, and started spray painting the frame. It had clearly been painted white before, but the paint had started to chip and fade, so I decided to give it new life. I covered the frame in two layers of paint. Then I took off my mask and gloves and walked out of my room, almost running into a blonde girl with headphones on.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed, blushing. She smiled at me and shrugged. "It's fine," she smiled. "Moving day is always hell here. I'm Lisa."

"Caroline." We shook hands before I asked, "Hey, there's a garden here, right?"

Ten minutes later, I was standing in front of the very impressive gardens at the back of the quad. One was a vegetable garden, one was a fruit garden, and one was full of flowers and plants. I smiled and opened the small, white metal gate before walking cautiously down the path. I found various wildflowers pretty easily, picking some of those. I found daisies too, so I picked a bunch of those as well. I was almost satisfied with my collection, but I was missing one thing: sunflowers.

I tiptoed towards the back of the garden. It was so quiet here, which made me feel calm and serene, but also like I needed to protect that silence. So, as quietly as I could, I made my way towards the sunflowers, gently picking a few. Once I felt my collection of flowers was complete, I started to leave, when a ginger headed boy startled me. He was sitting quietly amongst the sunflowers, his head bowed over a sketch pad. He looked up, completely ignoring me, instead studying the sunflowers in front of him intently. I watched him for a moment, unsure if I should make my presence known or not. I knew I wasn't a fan of being interrupted when I was working, so I was about to leave when he spoke up without looking at me. 

"I know you're watching me." He had a thick, Dutch accent. 

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I was just leaving."

He shrugged. "Free space," he said with indifference. I nodded awkwardly before leaving. When I reached the gate, I made sure to close it quietly and lock it, so no one would disturb the dutch boy. Then, I made my way back to my room and gingerly touched the bed frame to make sure it was dry. I dipped the flowers I had picked in wax before winding them around the headboard. The largest sunflower sat right in the middle, and the other two sat on either side of the headboard. The wildflowers and daisies filled the empty space in between, until, with the mattress on, my bed frame looked like it had been pulled out of nature. 

Once I was satisfied with my bed, I started to unpack my things and put them away, in my closet and on my vanity. I set up my easel between my window and vanity before sitting down and admiring my room. I hadn't realized I'd left my door open before I heard the dutch boy say, "You didn't have to leave." I turned and saw him standing in the doorway of my room. "Free space," he repeated. I shrugged. "I don't like being interrupted when I'm working," I said. "I wanted to give you the same respect." The boy shifted awkwardly, like he didn't know what to say.

"I'm Caroline," I said, standing up and reaching out to shake his hand. He looked at my hand anxiously before shaking it. "Vincent," he replied.

"Vincent what?" I asked. He blushed. "You wouldn't be able to say it anyway," he said, scratching his upper arm. "It's dutch."

"So?" I said. "My name's French, and when people read it, they can't pronounce it anyway. It's Schuyler. S-C-H-U-Y-L-E-R. People never believe me when I tell them it's pronounced Skylar."

Vincent mulled over this for a few moments before saying, "Van Gogh. V-A-N, G-O-G-H."

"I like it," I smiled. Vincent shrugged awkwardly. "It's okay, I guess. I didn't know you were French."

"I learned how to hide my accent," I shrugged. "It comes in handy sometimes."

"You shouldn't hide who you are," Vincent argued. "That's the reason we all come here. To be who we are." He blushed furiously, his face starting to match his hair. Then he said, "I have to go clean up my room."

"You're welcome to come by whenever you want," I offered. "It's nice to know someone when you're new."

"I can promise you, you don't want to be seen with me," Vincent said, sounding a little bitter. "Not if you want to have friends here." Before I could ask what that meant, Vincent turned around and left, walking down the hall before entering a room. I frowned a bit, confused by his statement, before shaking it out of my head and getting ready for my first dinner here.