Emily walked around school in a sort of love-struck trance, with an awkward look on her face. One Angela, her closest friend, had never seen. Angela simply observed as Emily seemed to close her eyes and smile at irregular intervals, and stumble over her own feet. When Emily nearly tripped into a glass door, she decided to address it. She grabbed Emily by the shoulders.
"Emily, what the hell is wrong with you today?" Only then did she notice the oversized hoodie she was wearing. It looked nothing like she had ever seen Emily wear.
Emily's eyes snapped open, and she turned to face her friend. "Nothing. I'm fine. What are you talking about?"
"And what are you wearing?"
Emily coughed awkwardly. "Nothing, just one of my hoodies."
Angela's eyes narrowed. "I've known you for fourteen years, Emily. I can tell when you're acting weird."
Emily sighed. "It's nothing. Trust me." She nearly stumbled once more.
Shaking her head, Angela pulled Emily towards a nearby bench table. Once they were sitting, Angela turned in her seat to face Emily. "I already know something's wrong," she saw that Emily was about to interrupt, and overrode her. "No, don't say nothing's wrong. No use arguing. Just tell me. I'm your closest friend."
Emily sighed. She began to twiddle her thumbs and fidget. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Tristan appeared around the corner, and noticed the pair of girls. Angela, not having Tristan in any of her classes, had no idea who he was, and thought nothing of it. But she began to suspect something when Emily let out a small squeak and blushed furiously. Suspicious, Angela watched as Tristan began to walk over to the table.
Tristan came up to Angela, who stood up. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," he said, grinning. "I have class next with Emily, and I came to grab her. If that's fine with you, of course."
"No, no, that's fine. We just finished talking anyway."
Tristan's grin seemed to grow wider. "Great," he stuck out his hand. "I'm Tristan. I'm new here."
Angela smiled. He
was
very cute. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized whose hoodie Emily had been wearing. "Angela. Nice to meet you." She leaned in slightly.
Tristan flashed her another smile, and went over to Emily, who stood up immediately, slightly stiff. Tristan noticed the sudden awkward movement, and frowned. "Are you okay?" Angela hid a smile.
Emily scowled at the two of them, and managed to regain her regular composure. "I'm fine," she cleared her throat. "We only have a few minutes. Let's get to Art."
Angela gave Emily a quick glance as they walked by. "We're going to be talking about this tonight." Emily rolled her eyes but nodded. Angela watched as the pair disappeared around the corner, and walked away, heading towards her own class.
----
The art classroom wasn't far, just a few minutes away. The class itself was only fifteen other students. Yet it was one of the biggest electives at the school. The classroom was close to the size of the physics room. Against the wall were several white canvases, perched atop seventeen easels. There was a small counter in the back with a sink and several bowls of brushes and color pencils. The art teacher, an old woman with experienced wrinkles and eyes, clapped her hands loudly.
"Please take your seats. Please choose wisely, you'll be sitting in that seat for the rest of the semester."
Tristan took a seat close to the back of the classroom. Emily, without thinking, sat next to him. Tristan flashed her a white grin that made her stomach flutter slightly.
The teacher clapped once more. It seemed to be something they would have to get used to. "All right, let's get started. She began to point to several places in the classroom. "In the back are brushes. You also have one on each of your easels, but if you need more, that's where you will go. There's also a sink back there, which you will use after every class. Each of you also has an easel. Please try not to break them, they're very expensive. Other than that, let's begin. We'll start off with something simple for the unit. Feel free to draw whatever you'd like for," the professor checked the clock. "The next hour or so. So the rest of class."
Emily gently picked up the brush. She had never painted before, never even drawn, besides the few crayon artworks every child drew. She glanced over at Tristan, who had already started mixing several colors on his palette.
"Do you know how to paint?"
Tristan shrugged. "I've done it a few times." Then he returned his attention to his large canvas. The easels were turned so Emily couldn't properly see Tristan's art from her angle. She looked around the class and saw that several people had already started. With a sigh, she poured small amounts of pain onto her own palette, and began to paint.
---
An hour later, Emily stood and stepped away from her canvas. Her eyes widened with embarrassment as she realized several of her lines were crooked, and some of her paint was trailing down the canvas. Cursing, she quickly wiped the small escaping lines before stepping back once more. She had drawn a cat. Just a simple black cat with yellow and white eyes. She looked around and felt reassured as she saw that most of her peers had drawn just as bad, and in some cases worse. Tristan was still working, and she was curious to see what he had painted.
"That's time, everyone," the professor announced. She looked around at the several easels. "All of you did very good, it's perfectly normal for your first painting to be somewhat bad. Would anyone like to present?"
No one volunteered.
"What about you?"
Tristan cleared his throat. "Me?"
The professor nodded. "Unless you feel uncomfortable."
Emily watched curiously as several thoughts seemed to run through Tristan's head. Finally, he responded. "No, that's fine. I'll go." He lightly grabbed his canvas and walked towards the front of the class, where he leaned his canvas against the wall. There was a collective gasp from several of the students, including Emily, who was, simply put, speechless. The professor seemed to be in a similar state.
Because on Tristan's canvas was a beautiful scene. There was a large beach that stretched across the lower half of his canvas, and a spectacular sunset in the background. The entire painting looked so realistic it could have been a photo. The professor nodded her head, seemingly unimpressed.
