6: A Lesson In Animosity
Time flew faster than usual during art class and Will found himself staring at the canvas and the picture he pinned to it yet again. In the fifteen or so minutes Ms. Johansen circled the classroom, he didn’t add a single stroke to the piece he was working on. There was only a few more class periods until the painting was due for a grade; at this rate, he was going to be critiqued on some parts of a tree and a half of a swing, maybe some hair if he was lucky.
His mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t get the thought of Ashley running off like she did out of his head.
Seven minutes before the bell dismissing the class was set to ring, the other students started cleaning up their areas: putting away paints, hanging up their smocks, and washing their paint stained hands in the sink.
During all of this, the art teacher, Ms. Johansen, made a statement to the class. “Don’t forget students. If your painting further requires orange, purple, and/or royal blue colors, you’ll need to bring them yourselves; we’re running low on those colors now too.”
The bell dismissing the class rang and the students exited the room; all except Will. He remained at his area, eyes still fixed upon his canvas with not a single ounce of new paint added to it. After putting some utensils away at her desk, Ms. Johansen went over to Will. She looked at his canvas and noticed that there was the same amount of painting done as there was the Friday before.
“I understand that the art process cannot be rushed, William,” she said to him. “The artist must be given every second they need to transfer what is in their minds to the canvas. Unfortunately, there are but a finite amount of days within the semester. And I am required by the district to both give you a grade based on your work and to dedicate time within that semester to other forms of art. Thus, I must inquire if you will have your painting done before it is due for critique?”
“I don’t know,” Will answered. “I thought I had enough pieces. But now there’s a new puzzle and the pieces are scattered within the original. I don’t even know how that happened.”
“Ah to be young again. To have nothing of consequence to be worried about and yet unable to avoid the feeling that the entire world rests on your shoulders. While I can no longer fathom your teenage problems, it isn’t my wish to add the thought of failing this course to them.”
Ms. Johansen walked back to her desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out a small pad of blue tardy passes. She filled out the top one, tore it from the pad and returned to Will to hand it to him.
“So, I will offer you some advice for this class. Your painting doesn’t need to be of just one subject. If the pieces of your puzzle come from multiple boxes, then put them together anyway to see what fits. Turn your painting into a collage. Now go to your next class.”
After cleaning his area and grabbing his backpack from the floor near his canvas, Will left the class and headed to the building where his locker was. At his locker, he retrieved the book he needed for his next class. For the most part, his locker was organized. The textbooks for his class were placed on a small rack near the top of the locker; he didn’t have any problem finding the book he was looking for.
The thought of Ashley and what she must be going through wasn’t the only thing on Will’s mind at the moment. He remembered the cafeteria, where he froze when it came to finding a new table to sit at.
Before closing his locker, he asked to himself, “what happened back there? I wanted to sit with other kids. I wanted to show you that I’m trying to be more open, that I’m trying to live. But I just froze up. I just don’t understand.”
“You’re trying too hard,” answered a voice nearby. Will closed his locker and there she was. April’s spirit stood at the locker next to Will as she did before. Her arms were folded and she looked at Will with an endearing smile.
Will turned to April and asked, “trying to hard? I don’t think I’m trying hard enough.”
“Do you remember when were twelve?” she asked him.
“Not with too much fondness. But yeah, I do. Why?”
“Do you remember when the chain on my bike fell off? We took it to your house because you said you could fix it. But you seemed to be having trouble; that’s when your dad came out to your front yard. Do you remember what he asked you?”
“Yeah. He asked if I ate any of the special edition M&Ms bought a few days before.”
April laughed. “He did ask that. But then when he noticed you were having trouble with the chain. Do you remember what he asked then?”
“He asked me if I knew how to eat an elephant.”
“That’s right. And?”
“And what?” Will repeated.
“How do you eat an elephant?” she asked.
Will thought about the question for a few seconds and answered, “one bite at a time.”
“Exactly! No matter the task, you can accomplish it, if you take it one step at a time. I believe in you, Will. You’re going to keep that promise, I just know it.”
The tardy bell rang thorough the hallway and April’s spirit faded away.
During Carlisle’s History Class, a new student is introduced.
“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a few of you already. But for those of you who aren’t aware, my name is Leslie, Leslie Taylor.”
“Welcome to our class, Ms. Taylor. We only have free desk available. Please take it so that we can continue with class.”
Will’s eyes lit up when it dawned on him that the empty desk Mr. Carlisle was referring to was right next to him. While the teacher continued his lecture, Leslie walked down the third aisle to the desk with poise; her eyes were closed, her head was tilted about forty-five degrees upward and her smile suggested she was aware of the silent compliments she was receiving. The aisle was to her what the runway is to a model and the boys sitting on both sides of it couldn’t stop themselves from staring at her as she both came near and walked passed them.
When she took her seat, Leslie immediately looked to her right at Will.
“Hello there, Nobody,” she greeted him in an arrogant tone.
“William,” he responded firmly. “My name is William.”
“Is it? Because as far as I’m concerned, as long as you hang with those other nobodies, you are also nobody.”
“Why are you here?”
“Uh, excuse me?”
“Why are you here? At Washington of all places? Isn’t your family loaded? Doesn’t your dad pretty much run this town? Shouldn’t you be at some fancy private school?”
“The reasons for me being here are none of your concern, Nobody. All you need to know is that I am here. And I am going straight to the top of the food chain. Now if you don’t want to be eaten alive, I suggest that you quit asking me questions that don’t concern you. In fact, I advise that you don’t speak to me again unless I speak to you first; which, judging by your vulgar choice in clothing and unpleasant attitude alone, I won’t. Just keep your head forward, or down, I don’t care, and listen to the nice man prattle on about famous dead guys. Are we clear?”
Will didn’t answer.
“Ahem, I said are…we…clear?”
Will scrunched his face a bit in anger and answered, “crystal.”
“Good.”
It only took one personal encounter with her for Will to see just how easy it was for Leslie to get under someone’s skin. Rather than pay attention to the lecture, he spent the remainder the class period thinking about certain things. Will knew that Ashley and Leslie were friends before Leslie’s name earned her a spot with the popular kids. But now he wanted to know how and why they’d become friends in the first place.