Page 15 of Make Me Scream

Mundell and I laugh.

“There’s one like that every year,” he says, shaking his head. “Hopefully his final portfolio will have something good.”

I’d ask whose rich dad got that guy into the Academy, but Mundell wouldn’t appreciate the jab.

“How’s yours?” Vina asks Tichenor.

He passes around a couple of the drawings. The one I get is called “Void Relic.”

“They show promise,” Tichenor says. “Her command of shadow is quite skillful.”

I examine the nicely contrasting gradients and nod, then pass the drawing back.

“What’s that one?” he asks, pointing at the graphic novel in my hands.

“The Ohio Zooby Gwen Carpenter,” I say. “It’s good.”

“I would hope,” Mundell cuts in. “You’ve been reading it, instead of evaluating it and moving on.”

Have I?

Fuck. I didn’t even realize. My mind’s been on that night at Askew Gallery.

I made more than one mistake.

Talking to Gwen about Alistair Rat was not smart. I knew how she felt about his art from the way she lingered over an exhibit as amateurish as “Rat Race.” Nothing I could say to her was going to be taken well. I should have left it alone, but I wanted to chat with her and that meant Rat would inevitably become the topic.

I don’t regret it, but it was still a mistake.

Where I really fucked up, though, was being careless afterward, outside. Did she see me take out my phone? She was looking right at me until Mundell interrupted. I should have stayed and found out, one way or another. Of course, what I really should have done was made sure no one was watching before taking the phone out, but it was time to call Rory to pick me up.

“Is the narrative as good as the illustration?” Mundell asks. “She told me it was semi-autobiographical.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, flipping back through the pages. “It’s very compelling, for someone so young.”

If even half of it is based on her life, she’s seen some shit. I haven’t interacted with her much, but whichever parts are true, I wouldn’t be surprised. Back at the gallery she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground on the subject of Alistair Rat. She wasn’t afraid when the sprinklers came on; when everyone was running for the exit, her priority was protecting the exhibit.

She’s smart, too.

Rat’s art shows people who they really are. He puts people in situations that break our self-illusion and reveal our true nature,she said.

Well-put, way more eloquent than I expected. She makes a good point. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to tell her so.

If I’m being honest with myself, it doesn’t hurt that she’s hauntingly beautiful. Allison inThe Ohio Zoois clearly a stand-in for Gwen, but she exaggerates Allsion’s features in self-effacing ways. Gwen’s lovely, large brown eyes could stop a man’s heart, but Allison’s bulge in their sockets, almost insectlike. Gwen’s radiant red hair turned as many heads as her slim body that night, flattered by a tight, sea-green dress. Allison’s frame looks stretched — a bending willow branch always on the verge of snapping, with a wiry frond atop her head.

I hope Gwen’s illustrating Allison to give the impression of inner turmoil, insecurity and repulsion, rather than subconsciously portraying herself through a lens of low self-esteem. She has no reason to see herself so uncharitably.

Tichenor grabs Gwen’s sketches from my grip.

“I think I should take a look at these,” he says, sitting back down, “seeing as how she’s my student this fall.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, reaching for another portfolio. “Sure thing.”

Fucking hell. I’m doing it again. Fixating on an attractive student.

I try to make myself thumb through a folder full of earnest but boring still-life drawings, but my mind returns to Askew Gallery. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on these evaluations. I know what I have to do.

I apologize to the group, feigning a little queasiness, and walk home. It’s more than twenty blocks, but the distance doesn’t matter. In my mind I’m already hard at work building the setting and imagining her pose.

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