Page 79 of Babies at Coconuts

Chapter 55

Excited about a fun-filled Saturday, Hope jumped out of bed and dressed in jeans and a Hilltop football jersey for the special van-painting day.

She sliced a banana on top of her Cheerios and poured a large glass of orange juice. Staring out the window above her kitchen sink, she smiled when the neighbor’s dog recognized her and barked. Her mind shifted to the art project as she attempted to imagine the outcome of Willow’s artsy VW Microbus. Wondering if Britney would show or become intimated by the seniors, Hope ate quickly and brushed her teeth. Grinning into the mirror, she could hardly wait to get to the Hilltop High parking lot.

Eager to leave, Hope poured coffee in a thermos and drove across town. Luckily, she had gotten all green lights. After she arrived, she spotted several opened cans of paint—red, green, blue, black, white, purple, orange, and yellow.

Larry-Mac, the janitor, was helpful, as always. Stooped over, he busily pried each lid open with a now-paint-splattered screwdriver. With a roll of paper towels tucked underneath his arm, he bent down, whistled, and placed two towels beneath each lid, obviously to protect the parking lot from paint drips.

Hope noticed Willow struggling with a blue tarp. After her third attempt, she hollered, “Will someone help me spread this thing? It’s attacking me like fly paper.”

Several students, Hope, and Larry-Mac came to her aid. Eventually, they managed to stretch three tarps on either side of the van, placing one in front, and a beach towel in the back.

Unwrapping a package of paper plates, Willow placed various sizes of paintbrushes on top of the disposable plates. “Choose colors and brushes well, kids. You can deviate from the drawings you submitted if your muse takes you elsewhere, but remember this drivable mural will boast your name, plus it’s my vehicle—so nothing obscene, please. This will be a great way to provide movable art around Crystal City. Remember, you’ll be graded on your work. Ready? Go.”

Hope wished she could draw more than a stick figure and participate but knew she’d ruin the mural if she attempted more than a stencil of her hand. Laughing at herself, she scanned the parking lot for Britney while senior art students scrambled for paintbrushes and dipped them inside the paint color of their choice.

Within minutes, Britney arrived, hopped out of her run-down car, and ran toward Hope. “Hi, Miss Truman. Thanks for inviting me.” She glanced at the seniors, took a step, hesitated, and retreated toward her counselor. “I’m probably not good enough. I’ll just watch.”

Placing her hands on Britney’s shoulders, Hope gave her favorite student a nudge. “You’re most definitely good enough. I’ve seen your doodles. You’re really good.”

“They’re cartoonish.” Britney never took her eyes off the other students who had already begun painting.

“Do you know how much cartoon and animation artists make?” Hope tugged on Britney’s arm. “Come on. I’ll walk over with you.”

Britney’s eyes widened as one student painted an electric guitar, another an enormous eye, while yet another added a gigantic pair of black sunglasses near the front headlights. There was the beginning of an extravagant orange, pink, and yellow sunset along one side, musical notes, a huge tie-dye peace sign on one door, a cup of fancy latte, and an enormous bouquet of daisies.

“See, everyone is painting a variety of things. There’s no right or wrong.” Hope stared at Britney. “What are your favorite things to paint?”

Hesitating, the young student said, “I don’t know. Maybe a rainbow because they’re happy but that’s too basic.” She kicked a pebble. “I’ve never tried to paint a peacock but I love their feathers.”

Hope steered her toward the green, blue, and yellow paint cans. “Go for it. I’ll order pizza for everyone soon.”

Britney brightened. “You will?”

“Only if you paint a peacock.” Hope grinned and turned on her heel. She wanted Britney to come out of her shell and not be dependent on her.

Making her way over to Willow, Hope asked about ordering pizza. “Great idea. I’m sure the kids will appreciate it. The paint can dry while they eat. Want some cash?”

The janitor obviously overhead and plucked a worn wallet from his back pocket. “Here’s a ten from me.”

Willow handed Hope an additional twenty dollars away from Larry-Mac’s eyes, in an obvious attempt not to outdo him. Hope said she’d add twenty dollars and started dialing.

Larry-Mac disappeared into the van. “I brought some tunes.” He returned with a black boom box. Emptying his pockets, cassettes spilled onto the sidewalk. Fiddling with the player, the janitor inserted a cassette.

A few students ran over and picked up the small, rectangular cases. “What are these?”

Hope laughed. “Old school. I love it.”

“It’s how we listened to music besides the radio or cell phone, kids.” Holding a tiny cassette in the air, he said, “The sixties and seventies was when music was good. I have some eight-tracks too. The janitor pushed the play button and bopped his head to the beat of “Move It On Over” by George Thorogood.

Kids, swayed, snapped their fingers, and a couple of students danced as they made their way back to the van. Echoes of appreciation filled the air.

“Cool, man.”

“That music’s lit.”

“Thanks for bringing the rad songs.”

“You’re the coolest janitor ever.”

As “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks blared from the boom box, Willow said, “Keep working, kids. Remember, this is my beloved Buttercup and your senior project.”

While they waited for the pizza, Hope admired the students’ work.

Willow folded her arms. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“Very.” Nervous for Britney, Hope’s heart thudded as Britney finally got up the nerve to select a brush and dip it in paint. You can do this, Brit. Build some confidence. Hope watched as Britney—who had chosen a spot on the back away from the other students—made wide black strokes in a big arch. The younger student’s art covered almost the entire backend which surprised Hope. I guess she’s all in now. She bit her lip from nerves. I can’t watch.

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