Between the Land and the Sea - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,37
Jamie. Heather just looked at me.
Mr. Briggs took roll call and then announced that there was a very talented new student joining the class.
I thought he must be an optimist, not having seen my work. He assigned us to draw a still life that was set up on the far end of the large room. There was a lot of shuffling and scraping of chairs as everyone gathered their materials and moved into a semi-circle around an arrangement of fruit baskets and bottles artfully arranged on a table. I tried to dodge Ethan, but he pulled his chair up next to mine. I thought he must really feel sorry for me. The two girls trailed him like ducklings, I noticed with amusement.
I began to draw, but I was excruciatingly aware of his presence and started having a hard time focusing. Frustrated, I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and imagined he wasn’t there. I had taken art lessons at museums and galleries in the city and I was used to drawing around others. I never had any trouble blocking out distractions before, I thought defiantly.
I studied the subject matter a little too intently, afraid to look over at him. As we continued to draw, Mr. Briggs went around to each pupil murmuring constructive criticism, and that too was familiar. I finally relaxed and got lost in the flow, experiencing the peculiar sense of timelessness that came with total absorption in the process.
I jumped when the bell rang, still not used to the sudden noise. We all tore pages out of our pads and turned them in. People gathered up their stuff and rushed out, so I moved slowly, hoping to leave after Ethan did. The girls maneuvered him out the door, calling to him that they’d be late if he didn’t hurry. He seemed to linger, and finally reluctantly left, casting an anxious glance back at me as he did. Mr. Briggs came towards me as I zipped up my tote.
“You are a very accomplished artist, Marina,” he said with a friendly smile, “Ethan was right. He told me I could expect a lot from you when he transferred into this class last week.” The first week of school went by at a snail’s pace. I felt trapped, and started to plan my escape, considering how to persuade my father into letting me enroll in on-line school. I wondered what he would say if I told him I had spoken to a mermaid, much less mentioned to him what she had told me. Asking about my mom pretty much got me anything I wanted, but at the terrible price of seeing that familiar pained look on his face. I was more afraid of confronting my father than I was of seeking out Lorelei again.
The stares and whispers continued, and I got the sense that everyone was trying to figure me out, failing to categorize me. I arranged my face in a studied mask of indifference and went about my days ignoring everyone except Megan and Cruz. Lots of boys tried to catch my eye or strike up conversations but my distant nature and choice of friends put them off. Good, I thought, anyone who didn’t appreciate Megan and Cruz wasn’t worth knowing.
Friday after lunch I was digging art supplies out of my locker when Heather approached me.
I looked up, surprised. She was friends with Shayla, the mean blonde girl, and rarely even acknowledged me in art class. I had never spoken to Shayla, though our paths crossed frequently.
The open hostility she displayed towards Cruz and Megan made it clear that she wasn’t interested in being friendly with any of us.
“Nice shoes,” Heather said, eying my flats. “Are those really Prada? And is that a real Chanel bag?”
“Yes,” I smiled brightly, pleased that someone spoke fashion. Evie’s obsession with designers might be the bridge to some common ground with these girls.
“Are you like, rich or something?” she asked.
“No,” I laughed, shaking my head, “Not at all. My aunt buys me things she likes.”
“You mean Cruz’s mom? That stupid hippy? She doesn’t even drive a decent car!” she said with scorn. My eyes flew open wide and I turned to look at her with outrage. I had to fight a strong urge to smash her head into the locker. At that moment, Ethan walked up and stopped in his tracks, surprised by the look on my face. I don’t know what came over me, but I turned away from him.