area could be a big deal. Businesses could advertise. There isn’t much like that out there now. It would be leading-edge.”
Tracy tried not to roll her eyes at all the techno-zeal. “So it’s not porn. That’s good. But what does that have to do with your artwork for this class?”
Rob took a sip of water. “You’ve seen what I can—and mostly can’t—do in Photoshop. There’s no way I can even talk about design with these guys without sounding like a complete idiot. Maybe you could help me?”
Tracy picked up her last potato chip and waved it at him. “I don’t think so. How could I do that? I told you, I don’t even have a computer. I can’t talk about databases. No way. Plus, you don’t even know me.” She popped the chip into her mouth and looked up at the clock on the wall. “Hey, we should be getting back.”
Rob readjusted his glasses, glanced at the clock, and pushed his chair back to stand up. “I know you have an eye for design. Maybe we can talk about this a little after class?”
Tracy stood up and gathered her tray. “Yeah, maybe. I have to figure out what I’m going to do for the rest of class. I think I killed my drawing from yesterday.”
“How could you have killed it? It was great.”
“I saved the stupid lines we drew this morning and then my drawing from yesterday was just gone. I’m kind of hoping that the computer died in the fire so I don’t flunk the course.” She was doing it again. Why did she continually blab to Rob about everything? She needed some type of electronic zapper to get herself to shut up.
He grabbed his backpack and turned to her. “Depending on what happened, I might be able to find the file for you and get it back. If I can do that, will you at least talk to me a little more about this project?”
Tracy inclined her head in a mock bow and twirled her hands in an elaborate supplicant wave. “If you can get my image back, you’ll be my geek hero.”
“Okay. I’m fine with that.”
Although there was a slight smoky smell in the building, whatever fire had set off the alarm must have been small and localized, so class resumed after all. Rob sat in front of Tracy’s computer and pecked at the keys. “I got it.”
Tracy leaned over his shoulder to look at the monitor. “That’s fantastic!” She squeezed his shoulders with both hands. “You are my geek hero. I might not flunk!” For a geek, he had surprisingly muscular shoulders.
His lip curved in a half smile and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “No, you definitely won’t. I might. But you won’t.”
Ms. Melina walked in and said, “Everyone sit down. It’s time to make art!”
Tracy and Rob rearranged themselves so they were in front of their own computers again. Tracy smiled at her image of Roxy. What a relief. She slowly and carefully saved the file and then saved it again with another name that included the word “backup” so she’d have more than one copy, in case the inevitable happened and she screwed something up.
After some final instructions about creating Photoshop brushes, it was time for the critique. Tracy printed her picture of Roxy and carried it over to the wall. She hung it up and smiled again. Something about the dog’s expression and the colors she’d used made Tracy unreasonably happy.
All the students pulled up chairs and arranged them in a semicircle in front of the images hanging on the wall. When it was her turn, Tracy explained her process. When she was done, the class fell into silence. No one said anything for what seemed like forever and Tracy’s heart sank. Everyone hated it. Just like every other thing she’d tried, she couldn’t do this either. She cleared her throat, “Um, well, I know it could be improved. I should have added shading under Roxy’s chin. Roxy is my dog, by the way. I just drew it from memory. It’s not really that good. Maybe if I’d had a photograph to work from I could have made it better.”
Ms.
Tracy tried not to roll her eyes at all the techno-zeal. “So it’s not porn. That’s good. But what does that have to do with your artwork for this class?”
Rob took a sip of water. “You’ve seen what I can—and mostly can’t—do in Photoshop. There’s no way I can even talk about design with these guys without sounding like a complete idiot. Maybe you could help me?”
Tracy picked up her last potato chip and waved it at him. “I don’t think so. How could I do that? I told you, I don’t even have a computer. I can’t talk about databases. No way. Plus, you don’t even know me.” She popped the chip into her mouth and looked up at the clock on the wall. “Hey, we should be getting back.”
Rob readjusted his glasses, glanced at the clock, and pushed his chair back to stand up. “I know you have an eye for design. Maybe we can talk about this a little after class?”
Tracy stood up and gathered her tray. “Yeah, maybe. I have to figure out what I’m going to do for the rest of class. I think I killed my drawing from yesterday.”
“How could you have killed it? It was great.”
“I saved the stupid lines we drew this morning and then my drawing from yesterday was just gone. I’m kind of hoping that the computer died in the fire so I don’t flunk the course.” She was doing it again. Why did she continually blab to Rob about everything? She needed some type of electronic zapper to get herself to shut up.
He grabbed his backpack and turned to her. “Depending on what happened, I might be able to find the file for you and get it back. If I can do that, will you at least talk to me a little more about this project?”
Tracy inclined her head in a mock bow and twirled her hands in an elaborate supplicant wave. “If you can get my image back, you’ll be my geek hero.”
“Okay. I’m fine with that.”
Although there was a slight smoky smell in the building, whatever fire had set off the alarm must have been small and localized, so class resumed after all. Rob sat in front of Tracy’s computer and pecked at the keys. “I got it.”
Tracy leaned over his shoulder to look at the monitor. “That’s fantastic!” She squeezed his shoulders with both hands. “You are my geek hero. I might not flunk!” For a geek, he had surprisingly muscular shoulders.
His lip curved in a half smile and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “No, you definitely won’t. I might. But you won’t.”
Ms. Melina walked in and said, “Everyone sit down. It’s time to make art!”
Tracy and Rob rearranged themselves so they were in front of their own computers again. Tracy smiled at her image of Roxy. What a relief. She slowly and carefully saved the file and then saved it again with another name that included the word “backup” so she’d have more than one copy, in case the inevitable happened and she screwed something up.
After some final instructions about creating Photoshop brushes, it was time for the critique. Tracy printed her picture of Roxy and carried it over to the wall. She hung it up and smiled again. Something about the dog’s expression and the colors she’d used made Tracy unreasonably happy.
All the students pulled up chairs and arranged them in a semicircle in front of the images hanging on the wall. When it was her turn, Tracy explained her process. When she was done, the class fell into silence. No one said anything for what seemed like forever and Tracy’s heart sank. Everyone hated it. Just like every other thing she’d tried, she couldn’t do this either. She cleared her throat, “Um, well, I know it could be improved. I should have added shading under Roxy’s chin. Roxy is my dog, by the way. I just drew it from memory. It’s not really that good. Maybe if I’d had a photograph to work from I could have made it better.”
Ms.
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