That is my friend's first name. she'll be bothering me about this later. She has nothing against Rachel, that's just what this one is about.
I sneered as I glanced at Rachel. Perfect little Rachel Elizabeth Dare. We had the same art class, and she was next to me. She loved surrealism. Always something mythical born from her imagination. Which wouldn't bother me if she wasn't so good at it. Better than me.
This one was of a large mountain. It was exploding. It was zooming in on a boy. He had black hair and sea green eyes. He was gripping a golden sword as though it was his very soul. It was obviously not real. Duh. No one could survive an explosion to that rate and appear unscathed. And who the hell owns a sword???
The art teacher, Ms. Kiv came up and saw Rachel's.
"Beautiful!" she exclaimed. "I'll hang this one up, too!" And as Ms. Kiv walked away with the canvas, Rachel started another. After all, we were all trying to finish as many pieces as we could for the art gallery we had to put together.
It also irritated me how fast she could do her paintings. Mine were not better than Rachel's, but still really good. They just took forever.
Soon Rachel had finished hers. It was of a boy, with elfish features holding fire in his palm. Another of a black horse with wings, the back of a hairbrush in which there was a reflection of a golden eye, a spear that seemed charged with electricity, green smoke billowing out of a corpses mouth, a metal dragon, anything and everything.
When it was time for the art gallery, I had 13 ready and Rachel had 45. It was obvious that many people would like to see Rachel's art but this much!?
They all seemed to know her. A black haired, green eyed, good looking guy looked critically at the one of an explosion and a boy holding a sword. "Now, who's this one of, I wonder?"
Rachel pretended to be confused with him, "Yeah, I dunno, I just thought, 'How can I capture the embodiment of idiocy?'"
The good looking boy rolled his eyes, "Hardy-har-har, you did really good Rach."
She grinned, "I know."
A man in a wheelchair came rolling towards us in his tweed jacket.
When he'd finished admiring Rachel's artwork he said, "Ah, you understand if I'm particularly fond of this one?" He gestured to one of a half human half horse that somewhat resembled the man.
"100% understood, Mr. Brunner." I swore I saw her wink.
No one had come looked at mine. They were all of cats. But they were good, and I put effort into them.
An elf boy whistled under his breath when he came over, "You know, for someone who predicted my death, you ain't too bad at drawing me." And I realized he was the boy holding fire.
By the time the art gallery was over, I felt unappreciated and untalented. My friend, Avery had some nerdy book thingy going on so she wasn't here to console me. I sighed, and leaned against a pillar at the entrance of the school. Maybe today just wasn't my day.
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