over the top of the silver orb wrapped around her middle finger. “I love your ring.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“We should go, studio time and everything,” I said.
Ava removed her hand and turned to the door. I moved to follow her but Rosemarie gripped my upper arm and said in a low voice, “Be careful. The shadows around you are heavy and not of this world. I don’t know what you’re doing but watch yourself.”
I stared at her for a moment but jerked away, following Ava out of the building.
“Well, what did you think?” she asked. We turned the corner, rushing back to the dorm.
I caught my breath at the bottom of the dorm steps and said, “I think that she could be a good ally if something comes up, but otherwise it’s like someone undressing you with their mind. Don’t make me do that again.”
Ava laughed, but I didn’t.
“Ever.”
Chapter 8
College life took over. Class, sleep, eat, studio, class, eat, sleep, studio. Wash, rinse and repeat. By late September, the structured rhythm made things easier and the homesickness less. When we did have breaks, Ava and I often roamed our new city, embracing the independence.
“Can we go in? I’m looking for a gift for my mom,” Ava said, stopping in front of an art gallery.
“Sure.”
It was more than a gallery – a co-op for the students to sell their artwork and earn some extra cash. I followed Ava into the brightly lit shop.
“Jane!”
I spun and saw Tony, the boy from the party a couple weeks ago, behind the counter. “Hey! You work here?”
“Yeah, part of my scholarship. I have to work 10 hours a week. The perk is that they accepted my artwork.”
“Will you show it to me?” I surveyed the room and tried to determine what might be his. Nothing popped out, but he led me to a series of canvases on the wall. The first one was a small blond boy holding a toy rocket ship. A perfect snapshot in time. I looked closer and saw tiny, almost imperceptible brush strokes. “Wait, these are paintings?”
“Yes.”
“They look like photographs.”
“I try to capture the realism.”
“Try?” I studied another one. It looked just like a photo. Tony’s level of skill was at a whole other level than anything I’d seen before. “You totally succeeded. These are amazing.”
“Thanks. I don’t sell a lot because they’re priced high.”
“They should be. I can’t imagine how long each one takes to create.”
“I’m faster than you’d think.” He smiled. “Oh, customer, be right back.”
Ava browsed across the store, checking out the smaller gift items. I couldn’t take my eyes of Tony’s work. I’d never seen anything like it. One was of a girl’s feet, as though she was lying on the ground. Her big toe had a chip in the blue polish. A slash of dirt marred white skin on the top of her foot. Imperfectly perfect.
“Why art school?” I asked when he came back over. “Shouldn’t you be up in New York pursuing the dream?”
He shrugged. “I promised my dad I’d go to college. He never went and it’s sort of a big deal for him.”
“That makes sense.”
“Luckily, he works here – got the job when I first showed an interest in art as a kid. I get a discount on top of the scholarship. Otherwise, I don’t think we could afford it.”
“That’s really nice.”
“Yeah, Pop’s a cool dude. Oh,” he said, “I have a gallery show coming up in February. Will you come?”
“Definitely.”
“I’m terrified no one will show up!”
“Unlikely.”
Ava walked up and held out two different handmade fabrics. “Which do you like best?”
“Blue.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Did you see Tony’s stuff?” I pointed to his artwork once he walked off to help someone on the other side of the gallery. Ava glanced over and then did a double take, her eyes bigger than normal behind her glasses.
“Wow, are you kidding? This stuff is incredible.” She walked closer and held out her hand to touch it but stopped
“Oh, thanks.”
“We should go, studio time and everything,” I said.
Ava removed her hand and turned to the door. I moved to follow her but Rosemarie gripped my upper arm and said in a low voice, “Be careful. The shadows around you are heavy and not of this world. I don’t know what you’re doing but watch yourself.”
I stared at her for a moment but jerked away, following Ava out of the building.
“Well, what did you think?” she asked. We turned the corner, rushing back to the dorm.
I caught my breath at the bottom of the dorm steps and said, “I think that she could be a good ally if something comes up, but otherwise it’s like someone undressing you with their mind. Don’t make me do that again.”
Ava laughed, but I didn’t.
“Ever.”
Chapter 8
College life took over. Class, sleep, eat, studio, class, eat, sleep, studio. Wash, rinse and repeat. By late September, the structured rhythm made things easier and the homesickness less. When we did have breaks, Ava and I often roamed our new city, embracing the independence.
“Can we go in? I’m looking for a gift for my mom,” Ava said, stopping in front of an art gallery.
“Sure.”
It was more than a gallery – a co-op for the students to sell their artwork and earn some extra cash. I followed Ava into the brightly lit shop.
“Jane!”
I spun and saw Tony, the boy from the party a couple weeks ago, behind the counter. “Hey! You work here?”
“Yeah, part of my scholarship. I have to work 10 hours a week. The perk is that they accepted my artwork.”
“Will you show it to me?” I surveyed the room and tried to determine what might be his. Nothing popped out, but he led me to a series of canvases on the wall. The first one was a small blond boy holding a toy rocket ship. A perfect snapshot in time. I looked closer and saw tiny, almost imperceptible brush strokes. “Wait, these are paintings?”
“Yes.”
“They look like photographs.”
“I try to capture the realism.”
“Try?” I studied another one. It looked just like a photo. Tony’s level of skill was at a whole other level than anything I’d seen before. “You totally succeeded. These are amazing.”
“Thanks. I don’t sell a lot because they’re priced high.”
“They should be. I can’t imagine how long each one takes to create.”
“I’m faster than you’d think.” He smiled. “Oh, customer, be right back.”
Ava browsed across the store, checking out the smaller gift items. I couldn’t take my eyes of Tony’s work. I’d never seen anything like it. One was of a girl’s feet, as though she was lying on the ground. Her big toe had a chip in the blue polish. A slash of dirt marred white skin on the top of her foot. Imperfectly perfect.
“Why art school?” I asked when he came back over. “Shouldn’t you be up in New York pursuing the dream?”
He shrugged. “I promised my dad I’d go to college. He never went and it’s sort of a big deal for him.”
“That makes sense.”
“Luckily, he works here – got the job when I first showed an interest in art as a kid. I get a discount on top of the scholarship. Otherwise, I don’t think we could afford it.”
“That’s really nice.”
“Yeah, Pop’s a cool dude. Oh,” he said, “I have a gallery show coming up in February. Will you come?”
“Definitely.”
“I’m terrified no one will show up!”
“Unlikely.”
Ava walked up and held out two different handmade fabrics. “Which do you like best?”
“Blue.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Did you see Tony’s stuff?” I pointed to his artwork once he walked off to help someone on the other side of the gallery. Ava glanced over and then did a double take, her eyes bigger than normal behind her glasses.
“Wow, are you kidding? This stuff is incredible.” She walked closer and held out her hand to touch it but stopped
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