Page 102 of Play Book

THIRTY

Saylor

The art classes are going better than I imagined.

In fact, the kids are doing so well I make an impromptu decision to do a show for them to display their work. It will be a big deal, with punch and snacks and music. I even offer to allow them to come into the gallery on Saturdays to spend extra time finishing their work.

Each of them has completed at least two pieces, except for Ally, who’s only done one. She only likes drawing and hasn’t really embraced any of the other mediums. I’ve gently tried to encourage her to at least try the watercolors, but she’s easily frustrated and doesn’t seem keen on taking advice from me, no matter what the topic is.

“This is really good, Katie,” I tell one of the older girls in the class. She’s talented, and loves working with watercolors, but she’s done an excellent job with oil too. I’m hoping she’ll take more classes from me, though I haven’t decided when or if I even want to start another session.

I have a lot going on, and I’ll be busy for the next month or so.

“Saylor, are you going to sell our paintings?” Katie asks.

“If you want to put a price tag on it, you’re welcome to, but I thought it would be more fun to just show them to everyone.”

“Like who?” Ally asks. “Their parents? I mean, what else are they going to say but that they’re great? Parents lie.”

“Most parents don’t lie,” I say patiently, “although they sometimes tell half-truths because there are certain things that are difficult to explain.”

“They lie about Santa Claus,” Ally says stubbornly.

“That’s different,” I reply, hoping none of the kids still believe. “That’s a fun lie, something to make you happy.”

“And that’s why they’ll lie about these paintings,” Ally says, shrugging. “To make everyone happy. It’s still a lie.”

“They’re not really good, are they?” Another student, Kelsey, asks sadly.

“They’re wonderful,” I say firmly. “If they weren’t, I wouldn’t have suggested doing a show. The reason I came up with the idea is because they’re so good and you’ve all impressed me so much.”

The only boy in the class, Tony, shakes his head. “Who cares if they’re good? We’re here to have fun. It’s better than being at home listening to my parents fight.”

“My parents won’t come to the show,” Kelsey says, “because they’re never home. My nanny will, though.”

“We’ll try to find a date that works for everyone,” I say. “All right, it’s getting late. Finish up what you’re working on and then start cleaning up.”

Ally gets up and closes the sketch pad she’s been using.

“Why don’t you take it with you and work on it at home?” I suggest. “You still have time to finish a few extra pieces before the show? We can frame yours and put them in a set. Maybe we can?—”

“I’m not doing any more,” she says, tossing the pad to the side. “I don’t want to do the show either. It’s stupid. Nobody cares about kids’ art.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s a shame, though. Your drawing of the unicorn is beautiful.” I turn and walk over to help Katie clean her brushes.

“She’s so grumpy all the time,” Katie mutters.

“Her mom died not that long ago,” I say softly. “She’s sad. Don’t be too hard on her.”

Katie glances over her shoulder. “She goes to my school. She doesn’t have any friends, sits by herself at lunch. I feel bad for her, but she’s not very friendly.”

“Oh.” That isn’t what I’ve heard from Canyon. He thinks things are getting better. “Well, maybe you could sit with her sometimes. Even if she says she doesn’t want you to. You’re older, you know?”

Katie nods. “Yeah, I can do that. I’d be really sad if my mom died.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

I make a mental note to mention this conversation to Canyon, but he’s on a road trip and has a game tonight.

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