Page 21 of The Friend Game

“Blick gift card,” Lexie tinkles. “It is indeed. The Stone family wants to make sure that you have the means to buy the supplies you need for the classroom.” As she says "classroom" she puts her arm around Mia, making her meaning clear. “Ofcourse, I’ll be chairing a fundraiser later this year to help raise funds for our art program, but this gift card should help you out until then.”

“Wow, thank you.” A mixture of excitement and apprehension is brewing inside me. On the one hand, free money to spend on art supplies! But on the other, what if I disappoint the Stones? Lexie has the dangerous combination of being both demanding and influential. I’ve had such bad luck with careers lately, what if she makes this job into my next failed opportunity?

“We also brought something else,” Lexie continues, nudging Mia. “Mia, show Miss Garza what you brought.”

Mia, who by my estimation is eight or nine, grips a thick brown accordion file, and stares up at me, her brown eyes nervous.

“Mia,” Lexie repeats, “go ahead.”

Mia nods, then passes over the file. “This is my portfolio,” she announces. She says it with authority and a little jut of her chin, but I don’t miss that her eyes still hold uncertainty. I feel a swell of compassion for the girl, a sense of having a kindred spirit with her. I know how tough it is to be an artist in a very subjective world.

“Don’t worry, Mia,” I tell her kindly as I accept the portfolio. “I’m an artist too, so I know how nerve-racking it is to showsomeone your work.”

“Mia isn’t nervous,” Lexie says with a laugh. “Go ahead, darling.”

Mia nods and passes over the file. I open it with some nerves of my own. What if her artwork is awful? I’ll just have to pretend I like it, I suppose. After all, she’s only a child.

And her mother is scary.

I pull out the first piece, a smile ready on my face for no matter what I pull out, and the tension drops out of my shoulders.

It’s a drawing of a beachfront depicting a family walking along the shoreline. She’s done an excellent job with her use of color and lines, and there’s a nice balance between positive and negative space.

“This is beautiful, Mia,” I tell her, genuinely meaning it. I reach for another piece as Lexie beams happily. Inside the file I find an array of other landscape drawings, including a mountain scene, a forest scene, multiple sketches of the Grand Canyon, and a few different waterfalls. They’re all—

“Very beautiful,” I tell the mother-daughter duo, though my initial enthusiasm has faded slightly. It’s not that her artwork has gotten less impressive, it’s just, well…it all feels a bit flat. There’s no real passion in these pieces. I look at them and can’t help but wonder if Mia even wanted to draw these? She’s a kid. Has she even seen a real waterfall? Or a mountain? The best one is the beach scene I first pulled out, because of the people she’d drawn in it.

“In this first one,” I hold up the beach picture, “you captured the emotions of the kids so well. I love that.”

Mia looks pleased, but Lexie frowns. “She did that one here at school, without her art tutor’s supervision. It’s a bit rudimentary, but she insisted on including it.”

I’m too busy processing the fact that Mia has an art tutor to consider the wisdom of my honest reply.

“I don’t think it’s rudimentary at all.”

Lexie bristles, and instantly I try to course correct.

“What I mean is, your daughter is very talented. It doesn’t seem to me that anything she draws could ever be considered rudimentary.”

“Oh.” Lexie looks pleased. She slides her arm around Mia’s shoulders. “She is quite talented, but I don’t want you to think that means she shouldn’t be corrected. From time to time she can let her art get a bit wild, if you know what I mean. Overly bright colors, random shapes with no meaning, that sort of thing.” She waves her free hand demonstratively.

I fight to keep my expression neutral. Overly bright colors? Random shapes with no meaning? The phrases feel like needles poking my skin,reminders of the criticisms I myself faced in my brief stint selling my pieces.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” I say, forcing a tight smile.

“Alright then,” Lexie straightens her already straight top, “I really ought to get Mia to class.”

I nod, then look down at Mia. “It was nice to meet you, Mia. I look forward to having you in class.”

Mia offers me a small smile, then follows her mother out of the classroom.

I glance at the clock over the door. My first class should be here any minute. I take a few steadying breaths, then say a quick prayer.

Time to be an art teacher.

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P-o-t-t-e-r-y w-h-e-e-l

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