Page 117 of Devious Knight

“The artwork you’ve done here is based on guided supervision from your professors. I need to see your own ideas and a few more sculptures that show your

original craftsmanship. Which is another thing I need to discuss with you.”

“I always strive for original craftsmanship.”

“I’m sure you do. The ideas you put forward are good, but they look too similar to things I’ve seen before. An artist is identified by their individual touch that’s signature to them. You don’t have that.” He pauses for a moment, and the sting of his words hits me repeatedly with each passing second. “The art world doesn’t need artists who copy each other. It needs individuals. I see nothing in your work so far that separates you from the crowd.”

My God… I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I was worried about the wrong things. I thought he would look at the incident with Kade and label me a troublemaker, but what he’s doing is worse. He’s telling me I’m not good enough.

“I also want to see some more work experience,” he throws in, piling on the shit. “Many of the applicants starting Christian Degas’ program have years of experience from summer placements at notable establishments. You don’t have anything that carries substantial weight. Lack of work experience tells me you may not be serious about your career.”

“I assure you, that’s not the case.”

“Well, I need to see proof. Here is a list of ideas that should help you. I’ve also set out my expectations for the portfolio.” What he slides over is not a simple list. It’s a dossier.

I pick it up, look through the first few pages, and my heart sinks. What I see so far looks like something you’d find in a fulltime job. “This is a lot to do in such a short space of time. I have less than five months left before the summer break.”

“Unfortunately, this is the way it has to be if you want my endorsement. So, either you put the time in to make it work, or you pull out. As for your probation, if you don’t maintain a 4.0 average on all your subjects or you do something, and I no longer feel you meet the standard expected for Raventhorn, you’ll be asked to leave.”

My God. I’ve just landed in hell. “Leave?” I can barely say the word.

“I’m afraid so. Those on probation are held to a higher standard than everyone else.”

Shit. This is bad, and I feel like I’ve gone through the wrong door again.

But… none of this makes any sense.

He wants me to do triple the work, hates my skills and craftsmanship, and he doesn’t think I’m good enough for Cambridge.

No one else had these types of problems with me. So, why would he?

Why in the hell would he want me to do so much more work he knows I won’t be able to?

Even with my model student status, there’s only so much I can manage. And as for doing all the shit he wants and maintaining a 4.0 on all my subjects, that’s not going to happen. He must know that.

Unless…

He’s doing this on purpose.

Is he?

He definitely sounds like he’s trying to prevent me from getting into Cambridge, but he also seems to be trying to cut me off from Raventhorn, too. If he is, there would be a good reason for that. And the only reason I can think of is the one I’ve held in my heart for all these long years—Mom.

I stare back at him and take in the superior expression on his face.

What if I’m right?

Usually when things don’t make sense, it’s because they don’t. I’ve never had anyone speak to me like this before or require so much from me.

The programs advisor at Cambridge already saw my work and approved it, so I didn’t need a portfolio or additional work experience. And if Christian Degas chose me, it means he thinks I’m original. Yet Parker doesn’t.

If he suspects me of the hacking at the gallery, he’d also know I have a reason to help a hacker. That reason could only be Mom.

It’s not on the records that I was at the crime scene. I was the anonymous witness who was able to identify the shooter. It’s on record that the witness—me—also said there was someone else at the crime scene.

Parker is a powerful man. My actions years ago at the gallery could have pushed him to dig around, and he might know that anonymous witness was me.

Am I right? Is that all too farfetched and me jumping to all sorts of conclusions?

---