Farmed Out by Christy Goerzen Page A

my beautiful, possibly prize-winning portrait behind.
    I am such an idiot, I kept thinking. Now I’ll never get to New York City. That was my big chance.
    â€œSee,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “I told you that city girls can learn to love the country.”
    I balled my hands up into fists. I wanted to scream at my mother to turn the car around so that I could get my drawing back. Instead I looked out the window as the perfect green rows of vegetables whipped by.
    Bit by bit, I felt my hands relax. I wondered if Anna had discovered the portrait yet.
    â€œSo, for next summer’s adventure,” my mom was saying, “there’s this nice little ashram in the Kootenays. You can do yoga up to six times a day if you want to. A girlfriend of mine went there a couple of years ago and loved it.”
    My mom went on and on. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses and fell asleep.

Chapter Thirteen
    Life got back to normal when my mom and I returned home to the city. My mom put her pantyhose on and went to work. I returned to my life as a teenager in the summertime, which meant hanging around the house and watching old movies all day. I did some babysitting, and I hung out with my friends. I went to the art gallery and worked on my Downtown Soles drawings. My latest drawing was a pair of red high heels against a graffiti-covered alley wall. Life felt different though. I didn’t have the hopes of the New York City trip and the cover of Canvas Magazine to look forward to. A week after we got back from the farm, I got a card in the mail from Anna. Thank You , it said in fancy scrollwork letters on the front. Thank you for the incredible portrait, Maddie! Anna had written on the inside of the card. I can’t believe you gave it to me. You’re the best. Love, Anna . My heart thumped with pride. It also broke a little. I sometimes couldn’t believe I had given her the portrait either. But I was glad I had.
    Anna and I had been chatting online and emailing almost every day since I got her thank-you card. She sent me updates and photos of Frida Junior.
    The long, hot days and weeks went by, and soon it was the last week of August. School was going to start again soon.
    On the Friday before the first day of school, I got a brown envelope in the mail. Canvas Magazine , it said on the front of the envelope. It was always fun getting my magazine in the mail. But now it was a little sad too.
    I ripped open the envelope. I might as well see who had won the contest.
    I pulled out the September issue of Canvas. It had a typed letter paper-clipped to the front cover. Weird, I thought. The magazine didn’t usually come with a letter.
    Dear Madison, the letter said. Thank you for your entry, “Frida Cowlo,” for our “Face of Youth” Art Contest. We are pleased to announce that you are First Runner-up.
    Holy. Crap. Was this a dream? I read the first part of the letter over and over. How did my picture get entered in the contest? Finally I decided to read on.
    Your prize includes $500 cash and an all-access pass to New York City’s major art galleries. We hope that you will enjoy your full-page portrait, printed on page thirty-six of the enclosed September issue. Thank you for your excellent entry.
    I let out a big, loud, whooping scream of surprise and happiness. I danced around the apartment, clutching the letter over my head. I plopped myself on the floor and rolled around with giddiness. I read the letter about twenty times.
    I flipped to page thirty-six. I screamed all over again. There was Frida Cowlo in all her colorful glory. At the bottom of the page it said: Frida Cowlo, by Madison Turner, age fifteen, Vancouver, BC, Canada. I pinched myself. This wasn’t a dream.
    I was so glad to have a copy of the portrait. It really was the best piece I had ever drawn. It was probably the best piece I would ever draw.
    I flipped to the cover of the magazine, to the winning