Page 19 of The Art of Us

Eyesorewas one of his dad’s favorite words. He used it to describe his clothes when they became too dated or worn, his bicycle when it had been wrecked on one of his rides, or even his desk, which he acknowledged was a special kind of disaster.

Wasden practically glowed with approval at Kal’s suggestion, so Kal continued. “And we’ll have other very specific rules. If anyone puts anything up that’s hateful, hurtful, or crude, we will paint over the top of it.”

“Right,” Wasden agreed. “And we put a time limit for when they can make contributions. So say we only have the supplies available for a week or two. When the time’s up, the art club can use their skills to clean it up and make each section flow into the next so it’s one cohesive piece.”

Kal had learned the wordcohesivefrom Wasden in his first-ever art class. He liked the word and used it more often than was probably normal.

Mrs. Parker had her chin resting on her hand. She was definitely thinking it through. “You know what? I like what you’re saying, but it still needs to be monitored better than you could do out here in the hall. Even if you paint over something hateful as soon as you see it, it won’t change the fact that someone might have seen it before you. We don’t need that kind of negativity. The mural being monitored will help people follow their own better judgment. But I don’t want the headaches of before- and after-school monitoring. That just seems like a storm of trouble.” Mrs. Parker was wringing her hands as if imagining the mischief of kids in her building during nonschool hours.

“We could give access to the mural only during lunch,” Ireland said.

Kal loved that Ireland joined in the discussion. Loved that she was supporting his idea enough to help find solutions. Loved that she’d used the word “we” like they were in this together.

“I approve your project,” Mrs. Parker said, “but it has to be in the art room on the back wall there. It’s the only way it can be monitored at all times and then locked up when you’re not in the room.”

Kal then added, “Maybe we tell everyone it’ll only be up a few months so we can paint over it if it doesn’t feel like a good fit to keep long-term. That way, if we do decide to keep it, it’ll be a big surprise instead of a letdown.”

“Who is responsible for keeping that space clean and not interfering with normal classes?” Mrs. Parker asked.

“I will be,” Ireland said. “I can set it up and take it down for lunch every day.”

Kal felt his mouth go slack as he stared at Ireland in disbelief.

Mrs. Parker nodded her head several times. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. Honestly, Mr. Ellis, you should have joined the debate team, not the art club. And Miss Raine, it’s nice to see you getting involved. Let’s do this.” Mrs. Parker waved in the direction of the art hall and hurried off toward her office.

“Excellent!” Kal said.

“Good work, you two,” Wasden said. “I liked that you gave solutions that appealed to her. Compromise in situations like this shows good character. Why don’t you both come up with some thumbnail sketches to show how you envision the wall looking? It would be good if you involved the art club in the early stages, so Ireland, if you can, it would be great to see you at the art club meeting. The point of a project like this is to be inclusive, so let’s make that happen. Invite anyone else to art club who might want to come. Let’s get thumbnails from everyone andthen vote on the options given. I’d like to see those thumbnails by the end of the week. We have school pride week coming up, and this would be a great way to kick it off.”

With all his instructions given, Wasden excused himself and left Ireland and Kal alone in the front hall. Kal suddenly felt nervous. He wanted to say something ... anything, but the words seemed to evaporate from his mind before they could fully form, and his tongue felt like it had been sealed to the roof of his mouth.

He had originally been fascinated with Ireland because of the way she reminded him of Brell, but the more he learned about her, the more he liked her because she was someone legitimately worth liking. The way she’d jumped in to volunteer to help every day was huge. It was a major time commitment most people would never have signed up for, and she didn’t seem to think it was that big a deal at all.

“You’re kind of extraordinary, you know that?” he blurted.

She blinked at him and her mouth fell open, but she didn’t say anything. Kal wishedhehadn’t said anything. What was she thinking?Probably that I’m cracked in the head.

“Why would you say that?” she asked, interrupting his mental scolding.

“About you? Why wouldn’t I? How many people would volunteer to set up and clean up every day for a mural they got roped into helping with?”

She shifted her weight on her feet. “Why wouldn’t I? You asked for help. I don’t really see how else I can be useful here.”

“I didn’t ask you so you could be the project janitor. I asked you to help because you’re talented—specifically at drawing the redwoods. I’ve seen you sketch them in your sketchbooks, and they’re pretty amazing. It’s what gave me this idea.”

“Anyone can draw trees,” Ireland said. Her ear tips had turned pink with embarrassment at him calling attention to her work.

He shook his head. “I’m gonna have to disagree.” He frowned. “I mean, okay, I guess technically you’re right, since most preschoolers manage to pull it off. But I am going to say that not everyone can draw agoodtree. You can.”

Ireland crossed her arms and leaned up against the wall. “Maybe. But ink on paper is different from painting. The last time I used oils, it looked like a tornado had happened in a paint factory. Not even Bob Ross could claim my work as a happy accident.”

Kal laughed. Ireland probably wasn’t trying to be funny, but she grinned at him. As he held her gaze, the one word that kept coming to his mind wascerulean. Her eyes were the deep blue of a clear sky on a bright summer day. “Hey,” he said. “Want to come get a burger with me and come up with some thumbnails?”

The grin was gone, replaced with something else. “Oh. Actually ...” she checked the clock on the wall. “I didn’t bring my wallet, and anyway, I should get home.”

She was going to try to ditch him again. “Wallet schmallet,” he said, reaching out his hand and hoping she’d take it. “I actually forgot mine too. Let’s go to my house instead. I don’t live too far from here. I can make us some sandwiches, and we can work. You heard Wasden. He wants those thumbnails by the end of the week.” She looked at his hand as if his fingers were spider legs. “We don’t want to disappoint him.”

Wasden was the kind of guy who expected the best in people. No one wanted to disappoint him.

---