Page 33 of Fruit
I stay out of the way as Marja and Gwyn get to work. Everybody who wants to participate in the art club is in one of the large rooms of the centre, now equipped with enough art materials to last us for a while. Today, I’ve set up a series of bendable desk lamps I’ve pilfered from all the offices, each of them pointing at their own patch of blank wall. There are a few boxes filled with miscellaneous stuff in the middle of the room, and I let the kids rummage through them curiously before explaining what we’re going to do. They look excited as I task each pair to stack the objects they were just inspecting on their respective desks so that the resulting shadow will depict a scene of their choosing. It’s good practice for contrast, as they have to think about how far away from the light to place an object to make its shadow sharp and black or a fuzzy grey, as well as getting them to think about composition.
I smile as I walk around the room. All the pairs seem to be having fun, talking loudly and sorting through the material competitively to get the best pieces for their work. I pause as I get to Joshua and Hugo. Joshua is silent, sorting through a pile of material they have collected with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. My first instinct is to worry he doesn’t like the task, but Hugo’s expression makes me think there’s something else going on. There’s a little furrow between his brows, his lips turned down in what looks like worry.
“You guys okay?” I ask, stepping closer to them. Joshua looks at me for a moment before tilting his head down.
“Yeah,” he grunts. I look at Hugo, raising my eyebrows. He shrugs.
“You need any help?” I offer.
“We’re fine,” Joshua says. I pause for a moment but decide not to push.
“Okay. I’m here if you want anything.”
Joshua nods. I wait for a moment before stepping away with a tilt of my head towards Hugo. He shrugs again.
I return to walking around the room. The shadow images on the wall take shape. An underwater scene, a graveyard, what I think is meant to be horses running through a field. Some of them are a little confusing, and I show them how to bring different elements closer to the light in order to make a distinction between foreground and background.
“These all look amazing,” I compliment when they’re all pretty much done. “Let’s take some pictures, maybe we can put them somewhere,” I suggest, taking out my phone. Some of them join me, snapping pictures of the different images on the wall. Joshua watches, arms crossed over his chest. Hugo stands by his side, looking between Joshua and the rest of the group as if unsure what to do.
I lose track of Joshua and Hugo as we invite other members of the youth centre and the staff to look at the art pieces before dismantling them at the end of the night. The two boys sit at the back of my mind, however, and I go looking for them when everything in the art room has been put away.
I find Hugo on his own. The main area is a large room divided into three. On one side, there are long tables equipped with a few old computers, the other with board games and a foosball table. The centre of the room is a maze of couches, chairs, and low tables where most of the young people hang out. It’s on one of these chairs that Hugo sits, with what looks like a textbook open on his raised legs.
“Doing homework?” I ask as I approach him. Hugo looks up.
“Just reading,” he says, fiddling with the edge of one of the pages.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he answers, but the furrow between his eyebrows has returned.
I let the silence stretch, waiting instead of pushing for an answer. Eventually, Hugo just sighs a little.
“I think Joshua had a bit of a bad day, is all,” Hugo says. I nod encouragingly, but he doesn’t elaborate.
“Do you know where he is?”
“Um…out back, I think.”
“Cool. But you’re okay, yeah?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Hugo smiles a little at me, and I return the expression.
“Okay. I’m gonna go see if he wants to talk,” I say, and Hugo nods, waving a little.
I head towards the double doors that lead to the parking lot. It’s used partly for parking, but it’s periodically used for some of the outdoor activities, like when we painted on the large canvas. I find Joshua sitting with his back against the wall. He looks up as I step into the warm air, but he looks down quickly, his shoulders hunching slightly. I approach him slowly.
“Mind if I sit?” I ask. There’s a slight pause before he shrugs and nods almost imperceptibly.
I sit down next to him, making sure to give him some space. We look out at the sky in silence for a minute.
“I was thinking about doing something with charcoal in the art club next week. What do you think?” I say eventually. I see him glancing at me from the corner of my eyes.
“Yeah. Sounds fine.”
“You ever use charcoal before?”
“Yeah, in school I think. But, you know. Not much.”
