Page 2 of The Prospect

“Save it!” Ms. Murray raises a hand before he can mutter out so much as another word. “I’ll be speaking to your teacher later. For now, you’ll be joining my class. Have a seat.” She gestures toward a free-desk right in the front row.

Daniel hesitates for a moment, rocking back and forth as Ms. Murray instructs him once more, “Go on. Sit.”

“Yes, Ms. Murray.” Daniel apologetically makes his way over to the desk—one that just so happens to be directly in front of me.

“I’m so sorry about all the interruptions, Hazel.” Ms. Murray sits back down, prompting her desk chair to creek as she settles in. “Now, would you mind starting over? From the top?”

I pause once more, taking a deep breath in and slow breath out. As I do, looking back out at the class, it’s as if everyone disappears and now, the only person watching this introduction is him.

Daniel.

“My name is Hazel Collins.” I look at him the entire time as I speak. “I’m seven years old, and something you should know about me is that I love art. I’ve been drawing, painting, crafting,creating, ever since I can remember.” I smile, peering down at the box in my hands—my prized possession before I walk it forward and place it on top of Daniel’s desk.

“Do you mind?” I whisper, looking for reassurance in his eyes that shine. I know it’s just the reflection of the overhead lighting above us, but still, it reminds me of the stars—the sky.

“Not at all.” Daniel immediately moves the ball to the side, allocating more space for me to place down my things. As he does, I don’t know why my cheeks get so hot. I’ve never had this happen; I’ve never felt these weird emotions before.

“I’ll hold that for you,” Daniel offers as I remove the lid from my box and attempt to place it off to the side.

“Thanks.” My voice is that of a whisper as I leave it in his grasp, pull out my paint palette and place it between the palm of my hands to showcase it to the still invisible group.

“Everyone, this is my watercolor collection.” I gesture toward the colors in the pan. “I got it for my birthday last year and since then, it’s been my pride and joy!”

“Did you say, ‘collection’?” The class comes back into view as the same boy from earlier makes his second attempt to embarrass me.

Giggles erupt throughout the class as everyone turns over their shoulder and focuses on him instead of me.

“I’m just saying.” He cockily leans back into his chair. “There’s only like three colors. How is that a collection?”

“Maybe if you’d let her finish, then she’ll be able to explain.” It’s Daniel who's the first to jump to my defense before Ms. Murray can.

The boy goes silent, and this time, the giggles ricochet his way, prompting Daniel to confidently shoot him a look before smiling back at me.

“Don’t listen to them,Haze,” he calls me by a nickname that no one has ever called me before. “Keep going. You’re doing so well.”

I pinch onto the sides of the palette to stop myself from smiling, but it’s so difficult—no one has ever stood up for me before, especially not a boy.

“Don’t be shy,” Daniel tells me once more. “Go on.”

I nod faintly, peering back down at the palette as I build up the courage to speak once more.

“You’re right.” I look over at a flushed Maxwell. “There are only three colors. But what you don’t realize is that in the palm of my hands, I hold every color imaginable.”

I feel a sense of confidence within as I'm met with intrigued looks from across the room, followed by a couple of “really’s?”

“Can you explain more, Hazel?” Ms. Murray asks, visibly supportive of my introduction, which has somehow turned into a lesson plan.

I nod, peering back down at the palette. “Well, these three colors are what you call primary colors—red, blue, and yellow.” I point to them one by one. “And by mixing different combinations, you can create anything you want! For example…” I reach to mix the colors. “If I mix blue and red, I’ll make purple. If I mix yellow and red, I’ll make orange, and if I mix blue and yellow, I’ll make my favorite color of all?—”

“Green.”

Peering back from the palette, I look over to the class to see who it was that finished my sentence for me, but when I see a smiling face staring at me as the bell goes off, I know exactly who it was…

Daniel.

“Hazel?”One of the girls calls out my name as she and a group of others join me in the grass, painting. “Remind me, how do I make purple again?”

“Blue and red,” I tell her with a smile, gesturing back to the colors in the pan.

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