The Banana Split Affair by Cynthia Blair Page A

glasses he wore also suited him well. They added an air of dignity to a boy who was smart and serious but also had many more dimensions to his personality that lurked just below the surface.
    “Things aren’t going too well, I’m afraid. I haven’t gotten started yet”
    “You? Why not?”
    She shrugged. “This isn’t the kind of thing I’m used to doing. Mr. Smith says I have an ‘artist’s block’ I have to get over. What he means is that I’m chicken to try something I’ve never done before.”
    “How could you possibly be afraid of anything?” Keith looked at her with genuine astonishment, his paintbrush poised in the air, “Why, you’re the very best artist in the school! If not the entire state!”
    “I’m so pleased to hear that you think so!” Chris was happy for her sister. At least, that was her immediate reaction. Then she realized that she was blushing over Keith’s compliment and it was Chris who was flattered, not Susan. Ridiculous! she immediately scolded herself. You’re Susan, remember? Keith has never even met the real Chris Pratt. Don’t go getting all confused now just because a boy with sincere green eyes and a gentle way of speaking has said something nice to you!
    She forced herself to stay aware of the role she was playing.
    “Oh, I’m not so good,” she said modestly, lowering her eyes. “I just work at my art projects really hard.”
    “Come on, Susan, you don’t have to admit it. We both know how talented you are. What about all those awards you’ve won?”
    “There haven’t been that many....”
    “What about the principal choosing your painting out of the entire school’s entries to put up in his office?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe I was just lucky.”
    Chris remembered when Susan had been awarded that honor, of course. But she hadn’t been aware of just how important it was. Or of how proud her sister must have felt. I guess having a lot of friends—especially a lot of boyfriends—is even less important than I thought, she mused. Having a talent and being rewarded for it is pretty impressive. I just never thought about how special my sister really is.
    “Anyway,” she said, anxious to get away from the embarrassing subject of herself, “I happen to think you’re quite an artist, too. You’re terrific. Much better than I am. And whether it’s recognized or not, I think you’re the best.”
    This time Keith turned beet red. “Well, gee, I, uh, guess it doesn’t really matter I mean, a true artist doesn’t paint for other people. He—or she—paints for himself. To soothe something burning inside so fiercely that it has to be communicated to the rest of the world.”
    “That’s nice,” Chris said dreamily. “I never really thought about it that way.”
    There was a short silence. As Chris was wondering whether the conversation was over, whether she should go back to her desk and leave Keith to his work, he placed his brush in the glass of water on the corner of his desk.
    “Who’s your favorite artist?” he asked. He spoke the words so quickly that it was obvious to Chris that he was trying to prolong their time together.
    Unfortunately, Chris suddenly drew a complete blank. She didn’t know very much about art as it was. And now that the pressure was on to play the role of her knowledgeable sister and impress Keith, she totally forgot what little she did know.
    “Uh, it’s hard to say. There are so many I like....”
    “Yeah, me too. But I especially like the impressionists.”
    “Funny you should say that,” Chris said quickly. “I like them, too.”
    “I love their use of color.”
    “I do, too.” Chris started to get fidgety as Keith’s comments got deeper. She hoped she would be able to hold her own in this discussion. She knew that Susan would have had no trouble at all.
    “Which impressionist painter do you like best?”
    “Oh, I, uh, I always liked, uh ...”
    “I like Renoir,” Keith interrupted. He didn’t seem to