Chapter 3: Three's a Crowd

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I didn't want to be jealous. I shouldn't be jealous. Yet, I was destroying the picture I was painting and couldn't get myself still enough to control colors when I applied them. 

"Miss Wayne, you have to be more gentle." The art professor sighed. "We may be able to save this. Be light on your brush strokes, and anticipate the way it comes on." 

How do I tell him that I can't be light on my brush strokes when everything inside of me is burning like a whirling storm of fire? How can I anticipate "the way it comes on" when my mind is spinning with all kinds of questions anticipating the worst possible answers? 

"I have to use the bathroom." 

He blinked at me. "Alright. Take the pass." 

I needed fresh air and the walk did just that for me. The halls of the Art building were full of works by the senior class. Some of them really impressed me. A sculpture of a copper Batman even made me smile a bit. In the courtyard sat a senior on his free period, viciously working on an easel. I grinned at the brown roots peeking through his blonde hair and he responded with a white smile. 

"What's up, Wayne?" He glanced at the bathroom pass. "Watercolor?" 

I nodded. 

"How do you like it?" 

"Not really my thing." 

"You usually work with graphite, don't you?" He had been a TA for my beginning Art class last year, so I didn't need to affirm anything for him. "They say drawing is the backbone of painting. You're pretty good, so I imagine you'd be a great painter." 

"Sorry to disappoint." 

"Nonsense. Take acrylic and oil painting next semester and I'm sure your attitude will change. --Come here.--" I came around to look at his work. He had painted a majestic lion into the courtyard, drinking water from the very fountain we were looking at. I could see crystal water droplets clinging to his mane while he lapped up the water. "With this paint, you can be as violent as you want." 

My eyes traveled to the corner of his canvas, where a bloody leg hung off the frame, just out of focus. It implied the lion had enjoyed lunch from one of the faculty. "I can see that." 

"Oh, that's just the dean." He adjusted the shading of the tree. "You'll have to be careful cause this stuff stains." He displayed his hands which were painted with the colors of the palette he'd been using. 

I stared at his lion. "What do you think happened to him?" 

"Who? The lion at the zoo? Beats me. I started working on this way before that cause I just thought it'd be cool." 

I nodded, "It is cool." 

"I'm serious about taking this class next semester." He pointed a grimy finger caked with oil at me. "If you really hate it, then for your art requirement you can take music with your little boyfriend. I hear Drake has quite the singing voice." 

My anger spiked when he reminded me of Tim. "He's not my boyfriend."

"No? Well, in that case, I'd be delighted to fill that role for you."

Typical. He did also get kicked out of TA-ing for freshman art because he broke up a 7 year long friendship between three girls. "I hope you get an A on your work."

"Me too! If not I'm adding the professor to this guy's stomach!"

I wandered back to class like I had all the time in the world, examining the pieces on display. When I got to class, first hour was almost over and everyone was cleaning their brushes and folding the easels. My professor was very unimpressed with me. I managed a smile and put my stuff away without talking to anyone. Second hour was history, where I turned in the beautiful report Alfred put together for me. In science, I turned in more homework.  Then we had an hour and 15 minutes for lunch. By then, news of the deceased student rippled throughout the school. Tim texted me to say he was going to pursue his suspect. I didn't reply. 

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