Page 63 of Absorbed

“I guess I could drive by. See if she’s there.” Stacey stood and picked up her plate and silverware. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“Nope.” Her mom’s expression softened. She looked hopeful.

Stacey was surprised to find the high school abuzz with activity.

The lower parking lot had dozens of cars parked near the football field and gym. The golden glow of the gym’s lights poured out from the open double-doors, where large fans exhausted the hot air. The floodlights around the track highlighted about seventy boys in full pads and practice jerseys, running drills in small groups around the field.

Stacey drove up to the staff lot behind the art building. Unlike around the athletics department, the rest of the school still felt abandoned. Once again Ms. Moreno’s car was the only one in the lot, and hers was the only classroom with lights on.

Stacey stepped around a large fan in the doorway, only to see several more fans blowing around the room, creating a hum that muffled Stacey’s footsteps and the buzz of the fluorescent lights.

Paint palettes and paper were set up in the center of the room with mason jars of water. At another large table in the corner, Ms. Moreno’s work surface was covered with drawings andpaintings of eyes in varying sizes and shapes. Some were pairs, some were singular staring eyes. They all looked up at the art teacher who was intensely focused on the full-page eye she was sketching in pencil on the pad in front of her. Ms. Moreno held her face close to the paper, a deep line between her brows, and a white eraser gripped in her left hand.

Stacey stood beside the watercolor table, avoiding the creepiness of that many eyes looking up without faces. She cleared her throat noisily to be heard above the fans.

Ms. Moreno jerked her head up, and looked over, surprised and confused. When she realized it was Stacey, her face relaxed. “Hi.” She set her pencil and eraser down, and stood. “It’s good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Yeah, I’ve been…a lot was going on. Work. Fourth of July.”

“I get it. I’m glad you’re here. Your new haircut looks cute.”

Stacey rubbed the nape of her neck. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, this is for a class I’m taking. Kinda weird to see so many eyes in one place, right?”

Stacey nodded, her eyebrows high, but remained glued to her spot.

“Don’t worry,” Ms. Moreno chuckled, crossing the room. “It’s not the Art Escape project for tonight. I had something else in mind. Hopefully you’ll like it, since you’re around the water so much.”

“Too much.”

“Well, I promise we won’t be painting the community pool.” Ms. Moreno pulled out the metal stool beside Stacey and sat down. She set pencils, rulers, and paper on the butcher block in front of her and Stacey.

Stacey sat on the stool beside her and grabbed the pencil. “I thought we were doing watercolor.”

“We are. But an important part of watercolor is planning out your project, because you can’t always paint over something to redo it the way you can with acrylic or oil paints.”

“But won’t we see the lines?”

“We’ll draw really lightly, and we’ll only put the lines we absolutely need, that will be covered with dark paint, or where there’s a natural line, like a horizon, where two colors will meet and it will be less noticeable. Done well, the pencil can add to the overall composition or completely disappear.”

“Okay….What are we drawing?”

“This.” Ms. Moreno flipped over an 8x10 photo that had been lying face down.

Stacey groaned. “The National Monument?”

“It’s a simple exercise in perspective drawing AND…drum roll, please.” Ms. Moreno tapped her hands rhythmically on the table. “Reflections on water.”

Stacey pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“I can see you aren’t impressed, but…give it a chance. I took this photo when I chaperoned the Washington D.C. trip last spring. I love how clearly visible the monument and clouds are on the reflecting pool. And it’s easy to draw and recreate it with pencil and a ruler.”

Stacey tapped her eraser on the table, irritated. “Lucky you.” There was a sarcastic lilt to her voice. “This way I get to ‘experience’ it, too, right? Like the northern lights? I can stay in Mesa Valley forever and just pretend I went places?”

Ms. Moreno’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. She eyed Stacey carefully for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Stacey.” Ms. Moreno put her pencil down and rotated toward Stacey on her stool. “I didn’t mean to… I couldn’t have gone on a trip like that growing up, either. It doesn’t matter what we paint.” She flipped the 8x10 face down on the table. “We don’t even have to do this project. Or paint. We can just talk.”

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