Page 40 of The Friend Game

“Belinda Lagman,” I hiss in shock, “we are in an elementary school.”

As if to illustrate my point, my Thursday afternoon class comes bursting through the door, their teacher, Ms. Ellis, taking up the rear.

“Well that’s my cue to go,” Belinda waves at me, offering Ms. Ellis a smile too as she sails out the door.

Ms. Ellis is Ellie’s teacher, and before I can even greet the class, Ellie throws herself at me, exclaiming woefully about how Peter S. tugged her braids in the hallway on the way here, so can I please send him to the principal’s office?

“Uh, Ellie, honey,” I say, carefully extracting her arms from around my waist and bending down to her eye level, “I don’t think you need the principal’s help on this one. I think you are a strong girl who can tell Peter S. how you felt when he tugged your braids, then ask him to not do it again.”

Ellie’s lower lip remains jutted out in angst for a second, but then she nods. “Okay, fine.” She whirls around and shouts, “Peter S., that was mean when you pulled my hair! Don’t do it again or my aunt is going to send you to the principal’s office!” The whole class starts makingooo-ooonoises and Peter S.’s eyes widen to saucers.

Well, that’s not how that was supposed to go.

“Okay, let’s all calm down and take a seat,” I address the class, then walk over to Peter S. “Peter, don’t worry, nobody is going to the principal’s office, but please keep your hands away from the girls’ hair, okay?” He nods, then darts for an open stool, sitting on his hands like he’s worried they might act of their own accord and take a fistful of the hair of the little girl sitting next to him.

“Ellie,” I dip down to speak into her ear as I head back to the front of the room, “next time talk to him one on one, that wasn’t nice to embarrass him like that.” Ellie’s nose scrunches in a pout, but she nods.

“Alright, let’s all remember the number one rule in my class.”

I look at them expectantly and they diligently chant back, “No matter what you create today, make sure to always practice the art of kindness.”

“That’s right.” I beam at them. “So let’s get back on track with that, my little artists, because I have a very exciting piece of news to share with you all.” I smooth the front of my yellow polka-dot shirt, then flip on the monitor of my smartboard to show the flier I received in my email from a local art gallery earlier this week.

“Grace Canyon has been invited to participate in the Desert Sunrise Art Exhibition at the Howard Chapman Gallery.” I pause, waiting to see if any of the kids will recognize the name, but Mia alonesqueals in excitement. I should’ve known she would know the Chapman. It’s one of the most prestigious galleries in the state. I was more than a little shocked when I received the email inviting us to submit our top student works for them to display at their upcoming art show. I mean, there will be professional artists showcasing their work at this same show. People charging hundreds, if not thousands, for their work. I suppose though, that when you teach at a school like Grace Canyon, where the parents are as influential in the surrounding community as Taylor Swift is in the music industry, these types of opportunities happen all the time. No big deal.

Ha!

“This is a really big honor,” I continue as Mia practically vibrates on her stool. “The Chapman hosts professional artists, which means if your artwork is selected, it will be displayed alongside those professional artists.” Mia squeals again, and now a few other kids are starting to look excited too.

“We’ll be working on a few different projects over the next couple of months, then I’ll be selecting a winning student in each one of these categories.” I flip to the next screen, a list of the twelve categories they’ve requested submissions for. “You are also allowed to make a project outside of school to submit if you’d like. And in fact I hopesome of you will, as we simply won’t have time to make projects that fit all of these categories. Not to mention the school doesn’t have the necessary tools for all of them.” My eyes land on the final category listed on the page,pottery, and my chest burns. To be completely honest, when I first saw the subject line of this email, I thought they wanted me to submit my work to the show. It was a bit of a let down when I realized they were requesting student artwork.

Still, I’ve recovered from the disappointment.

Mostly.

Did I consider submitting one of my own pieces and pretending it was a student’s? Possibly.

Just for like a quick second.

Maybe two.

Minutes.

“Miss Garza, would you mind if I interrupted your class for a quick minute?” A familiar voice pulls my gaze off the list, and I look to the door to see Luke standing there, Caroline at his side.

“Oh, hello, Pastor Abbott. No, I don’t mind at all. Please come in.”

“Great.” Luke leads Caroline, who’s chewing her lower lip nervously and has her eyes locked on the floor, to the front of the classroom.

“Caroline!” Ellie shouts, and Caroline looks up, a relieved smile breaking out on her face as shetakes in Ellie’s boisterous wave. “Hi, Caroline!” Ellie sings.

Luke laughs. “Well, I had planned on introducing you all to a new student who will be joining your class next Monday, but it seems Ellie Bernard has done the job for me.”

Ellie claps her hands, delighted with herself. “Everyone,” she trills, clearly taking Luke’s words as an invitation to say more, “this is Caroline Carter, she’a a dancer and an artist, and she’s amazing! She designed our sweatshirts for our dance team, because she can draw really good!” Ellie whirls to face me. “Hey, I bet she’ll get into the art show, Aunt Hannah! I mean, Miss Garza,” she amends.

“Art show?” Luke lifts a brow at me. “What art show?”

“We’re going to be famous, Pastor Abbott!” Zach announces. “Our art is going to be next to real artists! ”

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