Art Project
2
Scary Girl
IT HADN’T BEEN THIS BAD since my first couple of weeks in high school. At least when I started high school, my sister was always nearby to help set me straight. And keep bullies away. No one crossed her. I knew my panic would pass and I’d be okay, but knowing that didn’t make it easier. I clutched Annette’s hand as I approached the classroom for my Liberal Arts Seminar. It would have been so much easier if we were in the same section.
“See the bench over there?” Annette asked as she squeezed my hand. I was glad there were no stupid rules about holding hands or public kissing in college. I could even see a couple making out down the hall. I nodded my response. “After the lecture, come out and wait for me there. I have to get here from my Living Writers class, so don’t panic. I’ll be here and we’ll go to writing class together. Okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry to be such a baby, my Lady.”
“Pen, don’t even go there. I love you. I know how much you love me. You aren’t a baby.”
“Okay.” I didn’t quite believe her. I knew normal people didn’t have this problem.
“Do you have your sketchbook?” I nodded. “Then go pick a seat where you can see people enter and pick out one or two to sketch. Love you, sweetie.” Annette gave me a kiss that told me she was serious and waited until I walked through the door before she ran to get to her first class. I found a seat toward the back of the small room where I could watch people come in. I wouldn’t be able to draw much once class started because I wouldn’t be able to see faces. But I couldn’t very well sit up front with my back to the professor, either.
I was more stressed out about this class than any other I was taking. We were told there were four parts of the liberal arts core that we were to show proficiency in: critical thinking, information literacy, written expression, and oral expression. Just thinking about the last one made my throat close up. There were fifteen students in each section, supposedly so we could all participate in discussions. If I got called on, I’d run.
I sketched the first girl who walked into the room. I was sure I recognized her from my Freshman Studio or Art History class. She had long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, but about an inch closest to her scalp was almost black. She wore a hoodie and jeans and looked right at me. I almost closed my sketch and ran for the door, but I’d have to go right past her to get out. She turned a row ahead of me and worked her way to the center seat. I got my heart calmed down and labeled the sketch ‘scary girl from art hist’.
I made four more sketches during the class, but they were of the back of people’s heads or a partial profile. I labeled one ‘critical thinker’ and another ‘doesn’t believe anything.’ The good part was that I could pay attention to the professor and made some notes on my sketchpad about what he was saying. I was careful, though, never to look directly at him when he tried to get a discussion going on what people believe on Facebook. I had nothing to offer because I don’t use it. When class ended, I bolted out the door and ran for the bench where Annette told me to wait. I was way ahead of the rest of the class. When the scary girl came out, she looked around and saw me. She started to walk straight toward me again.
Annette came down the other hall and I jumped up to go meet her.
I confirmed that Scary Girl was in art history. It’s a lecture hall with doors on both sides and we entered the room at the same time. I sat at the end of the row closest to the left-hand door. When she stopped at the same row my heart started racing, but she sat at the opposite end. She turned her body toward me and her head toward the front of the room and then froze.
I already had my sketchbook in my hands, so I quickly captured the position and a couple details about her face. She had kind of puffy lips and a slightly upturned nose. Then people excused themselves from each end and shoved by me to get to the middle seats in the row.
Art History is a required course for freshmen art majors, whether in studio arts or applied arts, on a BA track or a BFA track. Everyone takes the Art History survey first semester. It wasn’t a bad course. The professor turned the lights in the room down for a slide show and started back in prehistoric times with cave paintings. He promised we’d be in contemporary art by the end of the semester. At least with the lights down, it was easier to ignore other people. Some asshole behind me kept kicking the back of my seat, though. As soon as the lights came up, I was out of there.
With three of my five Tuesday classes out of the way, I got to meet up with Annette and Morgan for lunch at the Student Union. I stopped in the middle of the quad to watch a guy doing Tai Chi. He was inviting people to join him. I did a sketch and then ran to the Union.
“Was it better today, Pen?” Fay asked me after she’d kissed me. Annette reached us just about that time and I had to delay answering so I could kiss her.
“I guess. Drawing helps. Except for Scary Girl. She makes me uncomfortable.”
“Show me, show me,” Annette pled. I pulled out my sketchbook as soon as we settled down with our lunch trays and Annette and Morgan had their heads together. “I know her! I mean, I don’t actually know her, but I’ve seen her. She’s the girl who’s letting her roots grow out and looks kind of two-tone, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right. I don’t know why she keeps looking at me, though.”
“This picture…” Fay said. “Is this how she was sitting or did you make some adjustments?”
“I didn’t have time to make adjustments. It was just a couple minutes before class began and I was afraid she was going to come right down the row toward me. But instead, she sat at the other end and ignored me. I sketched it before people started crowding into the row between us,” I said. Remarkably, the tuna salad sandwich I bit into was really good. I closed my eyes as I chewed.
“She wasn’t ignoring you. She was posing,” Fay said. “This could be really good, Pen.”
“Good? She’s scary! She looks right at me.”
“So do I, honey,” Lady said. “I love looking at you.”
“But I love you… and… you…”
“And I love you. But you’re kind of a hunk, in a geeky sort of way. I’m glad we talked your mom out of getting your hair cut before school. It’s cool. Girls like looking at cool guys,” she finished.
“But… um… What if she talks to me?”
“Just say hi and tell her your name. And draw her some more. She might become that new model we’ve been saying you need for the past six months,” Fay said.
“But don’t worry, Pen,” Lady said. “We’ll make sure she stays a dry reality. I think, though, that she might be a friend.”
“I guess. I think she’s in my next class, too. So, she must be a studio arts major. Freshman Studio is required of all of us. I’m glad it only meets Monday and Wednesday. We’re supposed to get introduced to all the various kinds of art supplies and uses, but I think we’ll end up washing paintbrushes and sweeping floors.”
“There’s a class like that in every discipline,” Fay said. “Last year I had an information technology course and we rebuilt and reformatted all the computers for the business lab.”
“At least next year I’ll actually have more classes that are art,” I sighed. While Art History and Freshman Studio sounded like art classes and Liberal Arts Seminar had the word in its name, the only real art class I had was Drawing. We were focused on form and space. I could see the benefit of exploring the basics, but some of the projects looked like kindergarten art.
“Be thankful you don’t have to sit through four hours a week of poetry from Beowulf to Angelou. I could easily sit and read a nice poem once a day, but reading a dozen or two dozen poems a day is a little much,” Annette giggled. “And I have so much to read for my Living Writers class. I hope you’ll be painting at home tonight because I’d feel awfully alone if I was the only one who had to study.”
Scary Girl was in my Freshman Studio class. There were only twelve in the class and it was held six times a day with different professors to get all the majors through it. We didn’t really sit anyplace. Not like a regular classroom. We walked around a lot and looked at what other people were creating. When we were in the photography studio, I managed to get behind the group and did a drawing of her back. That was interesting. She wore a hoodie most of the time and the folds draped across her shoulder blades. Her ponytail was tied up high enough that I could see the back of her ear and about a dozen piercings in it. Then there was the slope of her neck where her shoulder disappeared beneath the hoodie.
She was nice looking, but not exactly what you want to think of as a model. Not drop dead gorgeous like Annette and Morgan. Maybe that was why they wanted me to have another model. I mean… not that I should paint someone who didn’t compete with them… I mean… Damn words! So, maybe when I use Annette and Morgan as models, my figures end up looking too perfect. I know they aren’t exactly perfect. They’re human. But I love them. I would never paint the imperfection of a mole on Annette’s butt or Fay’s one nipple that points just a little farther left than the other. I have to really think about it to identify even those tiny imperfections in my lovers.
But Scary Girl was different. I didn’t even particularly like her. Not that I had any reason to dislike her either. But I could see the dark roots of her hair, too many piercings in her ear, the ski slope of her nose, and her puffy lips. I had no difficulty drawing her as I saw her.
Wednesday was Annette’s day with only one class—our shared writing class. I was glad it was a short week with Labor Day on Monday. At least after today I only had one more day of classes, sort of. I felt bad that both Annette and Morgan had Friday classes and I only had one. But then, Annette only had one class on Wednesdays and Morgan was free on Mondays. I guess it all balances out.
All that to say that Morgan walked me to class Wednesday morning and kissed me thoroughly before I took my seat. I got settled and looked up to see Scary Girl a row ahead of me. She was turned toward me and had an eyebrow raised. Okay, she knew she was going to get sketched. I started drawing and she didn’t move until the professor called attention for class to begin.
Annette met me with a kiss after class and we walked to our writing roundtable. Our first assignment was due. It was a pretty lame piece. About the same as “What I did this summer” in grade school. This was supposed to be three convincing paragraphs that told two truths and a lie that no one knows about us. I had trouble playing that game when I just had to come up with something on the spot, but having had all Labor Day weekend to compose three convincing paragraphs was different. And as long as I didn’t have to look up at anyone, I was okay with reading my paper when my turn came. Thankfully, we didn’t have to admit which ones were true and which one was false. There were a dozen people in the class and each one got to comment on the piece after it had been read.
I was put on detention for an entire semester in high school. It started with me not paying attention in class because I was caught up in drawing. Mr. Kowalski, my history teacher, sent me to the art studio and Ms. Clayborn made me develop the sketch and turn it into an acrylic painting. When I presented my portfolio to qualify for the BFA in Studio Arts here, the committee identified that painting as the best in my portfolio. I was really surprised, though, when they chose it for the ‘Incoming Artists’ display in the hall.
I had a really great opportunity last summer when I was invited to be a guest lecturer at the Idyllwild Arts Conference. I’ve been experimenting with some new paints from Winsor & Newton and they asked me to do a demonstration and talk about the flowability of their paints. It was kind of exciting to meet the guys who are doing research into new paint formulae and to be part of their research. They even paid my expenses to stay for the whole conference.
I don’t know how it happened, but I ended up living with my two girlfriends in my parents’ house this year, so I don’t live on campus. They are the two most beautiful women I know and are the models I use for nearly all my paintings. At least those that have nude females in them. I am a little backwards socially, so it always amazes me that two such smart, beautiful, outgoing, and loving women want to be with me. They are both students here, so I’ll decline to provide their names.
Two truths and a lie. You decide.
The class all laughed at the last one and yelled out that it was too obvious. Professor Denham, the instructor looked over at Annette and smiled. Annette blushed scarlet.
“I don’t think it is all that obvious,” Professor Denham said. “I do want to address an issue that I’ve heard in several papers, though.” She held out her hand and I gave her my paper. She glanced down at the paper and then up at the class. “What is the difference between ‘really surprised’ and ‘surprised?’ Arthur? Comment?” I shook my head. “What’s the difference between a ‘great opportunity’ and a ‘really great opportunity’?” she continued. “I would encourage you all to look at your papers and search for the words ‘really’ and ‘very.’ Then see if there is a difference in the meaning if you simply eliminate the adverb. Arthur’s is the last paper today, so I’m using it as an example, but he is not the only one to whom this is directed. Is there an alternative you could use that makes a difference? ‘I was astounded.’ ‘I was shocked.’ ‘I was amazed.’ The English language is rich with words that are clear and concise. Stephen King wrote, ‘Search for every occurrence of ‘very’ in your manuscript and delete it. Save your editor the task.’ I think that is everything for today. Well-written paper, Arthur. Very persuasive.” We all laughed at her phrasing.
Annette walked me to Art History and kissed me at the door before she headed home. I went in and took my usual seat then looked around the room. Scary girl was standing at the front of the room and as soon as I made eye contact, she moved toward the row I was sitting in. She didn’t stop there, though. She went one row farther and slipped in to the middle. I followed her with my eyes and when she sat down, she tucked her feet up under her and leaned forward slightly. She put the index finger of her right hand against her chin, tilted her head slightly and looked at me. She froze and I started drawing.
Yes. She was posing. People crowded into the room just ahead of the professor and the lights went down as the lecture began with a slide of African art.
The next week continued like that. Each class we had together, Scary Girl would find me with her eyes and make a show of posing before class. We were both arriving earlier for our classes than most others. One time, she went so far as to sit in the professor’s chair for Liberal Arts. He’d rearranged the chairs in a circle so we could all see each other. He came in, looked at her and then took the seat two away from me. Generally, though, she was taking seats that were closer to me. She still scared me a little, but I was getting used to her. It was after Liberal Arts the next Tuesday that she followed me out of the room closely and stopped beside Annette and me. I kissed my lover and turned to look at Scary Girl.
“Hi,” she said to Annette. “Just wanted to ask if you mind if I talk to your boyfriend. Don’t want to create any waves, but we’re in three classes together. I thought we might be able to share some notes and discussion.”
“Hi. I’m Annette. We’ve been encouraging Arthur to make some new friends. I’m sure it would be okay if Arthur is okay with it. Are you okay with it, love?”
“Um… I guess.”
“We?”
“Oh, I’m one of his girlfriends. Why don’t you have lunch with us at the Union today after Art History and meet Morgan, too. What’s your name?”
“Oh. Sorry. Kendra. You sort of threw me for a loop there when you said he had another girlfriend. Are you the one who wrote that in your Writing Roundtable assignment? I’ve got Professor Denham after our Freshman Studio class. She read the paper to the class as an example of good writing. Nobody believed the one about two girlfriends. You’re either a stud or a deviant. Maybe both,” Kendra said.
“She read my paper?” I croaked. I clutched Annette’s hand.
“We’ve got to get there now,” Annette said. “See you at lunch, Kendra.”
“Are you going to let me see them?” Kendra asked. When she came into the classroom for Art History, she came straight to where I was seated and sat down next to me.
“Um… what?”
“The pictures you’ve been drawing of me. I tried to be cooperative. I’d just like to see if you’re any good.”
“Oh… uh… sure.” I handed her my sketchbook. She was too close to draw her this morning. She opened the drawings and, of course, her picture was on the first page.
“Scary Girl? That’s what you call me? Oh, well. It could have been worse. I’ve been calling you Sketch Boy. Arthur, right?”
I nodded.
“Art the Artist. Cool. I like this one. Prof Leitner is obvious. That’s a good one.” She kept a running commentary up as she leafed through the pages. Each one was dated with the class at the top of the page and all my class notes were written next to the sketches. “This is like a da Vinci notebook except you don’t write backwards. I’d freak out if I saw that. But the drawings embedded in the notes… Does that help you remember? Cool idea.” I just nodded. “Poser? You called me a poser?”
“You posed.”
“Well, yeah. You were drawing me every day. I wanted to put my best foot forward, so to speak. You just noticed that day?” I nodded. “You don’t talk much, do you? That’s okay. I never shut up. Oops. There go the lights.”
The lights went down and slides started. At least it shut her up.
“You’re sure it’s okay to join you and your girlfriends for lunch? I don’t want to horn in on anything. I just don’t have many friends here and you seemed nice. I’m not interested in having sex or anything. Not with you. But really, just being able to pal around with some other people would be nice. Oh, look! There’s the guy doing Tai Chi that you sketched.” She’d started talking as soon as we walked out of the lecture hall. At least I didn’t need to say anything.
Morgan was waiting for me at the door of the Union cafeteria and we kissed like there was no one else in the world. When we finally parted I just got lost in her eyes.
“I missed you so much today,” Morgan said. “Our Lady got her cookies this morning, but I’ve been horny ever since.”
“Oh, wow! You really do have two girlfriends,” Kendra said. Morgan looked over at her.
“Morgan, this is Kendra. Kendra, Morgan,” I said. I just wanted to go back to kissing my sister.
“Hi,” Kendra said. “Um… Annette said I could join you for lunch. Is that okay?”
“Oh! Kendra! I’d recognize you anywhere from Art’s drawings. Of course you can join us. Here comes Annette now.” Indeed, Annette rushed up to us and pulled Morgan into a kiss that left even me weak-kneed. I about collapsed when she kissed me.
“Oh, hi, Kendra,” Annette said. “Sorry, I couldn’t greet you until I’d greeted my lovers.” She moved toward Kendra and the girl held her hand up in front of her mouth.
“That’s okay. You don’t need to uh… greet me!”
“I meant, ‘say hi’,” Annette laughed. “Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”
“So, the first time I saw him sketching me, I thought it was pretty cool and I’d vamp for him a little. Then I realized he was insanely shy. So, I’ve been kind of treating him like a wild animal I was trying to befriend and just moving a little closer each day. Then I saw Annette pick him up after Libs and bring him back for History. I figured he had a girlfriend, so I’d talk to you first instead of just plopping down beside him and demanding to see the drawings,” Kendra said. “I didn’t know he had two foxes for girlfriends. I’d have figured out he wasn’t so shy after all.”
“Oh, it’s not an act,” Morgan said. “Pen, do you want to tell her? We practiced for this.” I didn’t want to, but now that I’d gotten to know Kendra a little, she wasn’t quite so scary. I nodded.
“I um… don’t speak very well. Words… I know words! They get caught in my… here.” I pointed at my throat and then moved my hand down onto my chest. I took another deep breath. “I panic. Almost ran away from you.”
“Oh, man. That must be really hard on you!” Kendra said. “I told Arthur already that it was okay if he was quiet because I like never stop talking unless someone shuts me up. I just thought what he was doing with sketches was cool. Then when he showed me his sketchbook… Wow! It’s like the illustrated version of our class notes. He’s da Vinci or something.”
“Helps remember,” I said.
“All through high school, Art was forbidden to carry a sketchbook to class because he wouldn’t pay attention. Our dad suggested he sketch as part of his notes,” Morgan said. “I mean… um… his dad.”
Kendra’s eyes got big as she looked back and forth between Morgan and me. It was too late to correct that error. She’d already made the leap.
“My god! I thought you looked a lot alike. You’re brother and sister!” She turned and looked at Annette. “And you fell in love with both of them. Wow! You really are deviant, Arthur. And a stud.”
“Please don’t think poorly of us, Kendra,” Annette said. I had one hand in hers and the other in Morgan’s I eased up the pressure when I saw Morgan wince. “The key word you used was ‘love.’ We love each other. All three of us.”
“Yeah. I get it. I pick words carefully, too. I said deviant, not perverted. It’s obvious that Arthur adores both of you. Your pictures showed up in his sketchbook, too,” Kendra said. “And you really all three live together in his parents’… your parents’ house? So they know?”
“I think they knew before any of us did,” Morgan said.
“Uh-uh,” I laughed. “Dad said you asked when you could marry me when you were eight.” It was odd how I had less difficulty talking to Fay and Lady than anyone else. It made me feel good.
“Well, maybe I knew first,” Morgan laughed.
“What’s your major, Kendra,” Annette asked. The conversation about our relationship was obviously at an end.
“I’m in studio arts, like Art the Artist. But I can’t draw worth shit. I work in three dimensions. Clay, metal, stone, you name it,” she said. “I wish I could draw like Arthur. That would be so cool. I had to bring a portfolio to my audition that was all photos because I couldn’t haul it all to the University. I don’t know what I’ll do when I graduate and move back home. I’ll have another ton of 3D stuff to haul around by then.” She stopped abruptly. “Sorry, I told you I talk a lot. What’s your major, Annette?”
“I’m in creative writing,” Annette said. “I can’t draw or sculpt!”
“You’re in his Roundtable group, right? Did you know Professor Denham read his two truths paper to her other classes? Everyone thought the two girlfriends thing was a lie. Now that I know you a little, Art, it’s easy to see it was the thing about lecturing at Idyllwild, wasn’t it?” I nodded. Kendra brought herself short again. “Um… How about you, Morgan?”
“Oh. Art got all the creativity in our family. I’m on a BBA program in arts administration. I’m a sophomore.”
“Hey, it’s time to get to class,” Annette said, gathering up her scraps. I took them from her and took Morgan’s, too. Then I looked at Kendra and held out my hand. She gave me her tray and tilted her head a little to the side.
“Thank you, Arthur. That’s really kind.”
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