"They started a new program last year. You can pick from two out of like five or six classes and take them à la carte. You still have to apply, and you don't get a degree or anything, but there's one for portraits. It's two thousand dollars a class,"
"Mateo, I fucking can't," I interrupt him.
"You didn't let me finish," he says. "Read the top paragraph."
As part of our community arts initiative, applicants are also encouraged to apply for our "Keep Art Alive" scholarship. This scholarship covers the fees for two classes, one of the artist's choice and the other will be chosen by admission based on the artist's submitted portfolio. The scholarship requires proof of financialneed and a letter of recommendation from a respected member of your community.
"Do it Jade. You know Mom or Dad will write you a glowing letter."
"How? How did you find this?" I ask, bewildered.
He shrugs. "I hate watching you conform to something you're not. So I searched, and this came up."
"Don't you get it? There's no money in art."
"One step ahead of you," he says. "Click on the other tab."
It's a list of careers in the art field.
Freelance portrait artist
Book illustrator
Gallery assistant
Graphic designer
The list goes on.
For once in my life, I'm speechless. I don't know what I did to deserve this, to deserve him, but I think fate made a mistake somewhere along the way.
"You're good Jade, you know it, I know it. Fucking five hundred thousand people on InASnap know it." He holds up his phone, open to my InASnap account, driving his point home.
"And if I apply and get in and don't get the scholarship?" I ask.
"Then you and I will figure it out."
"Every penny I save has a purpose. I can't take from that."
"But what's your reason?" He smiles because he knows the answer. "It's Cooper, and we both know that if he knew this conversation was happening, he'd already have this filled out for you."
He's not wrong and I add that to my mental list of things I hate. About him. About us. About the inevitable fall out of it all.
Against my better judgment, I fill it out. The worst thing that could happen is I don't get in or don't get the scholarship. But what if I do? Even if I go for fun, and nothing more. What if I get it?
Mateo flips through my InASnap and makes a list of all the pieces he thinks I should include in my portfolio. The portfolio I only have three days to get together and email over. The admissions committee will review the electronic submissions and will choose finalists for interviews where we bring the physical portfolio. I've never put a portfolio together before. I don't even know where to start.
Am I supposed to show my range? Or do I focus on one medium?
I drain the rest of my Red Bull and sigh.
"Mateo, I—"
"Say the word," he says.
"Elephant." The big one in the room. The one keeping me two couch cushions away when I want to be next to him.
Mateo lifts his arm next to his face and waves it, making a trumpet sound like a child might do if you ask them what an elephant says.
