She rests a light hand on my arm, and the gentle touch is the last thing I expect. Heat rushes to the back of my eyes and I gulp hard.
‘Perhaps Leonardo can take you to the Accademia this afternoon. Get a feel for the masters before you … experiment. In fact, we may want to revisit the current pairings. Make sure each student is matched appropriately.’
Everyone turns hopefully towards Leo. Of course they want to work with him.
Only Nadia meets my gaze. ‘Evie can join me and Alessandra—’
‘No.’ Leo’s voice slices through the room. ‘Silvia decided on the pairs, remember?’
I stall for a beat – wait, what? I thought he’d jump at the chance to get out of this.
Veronica hesitates, then nods curtly, unwilling to override Silvia any more than she already has.
So that’s it. I couldn’t work out his sudden friendliness on Friday, or what changed in the time it took me to buy a packet of biscuits. But now I know. He spied on my portrait … and decided I wasn’t a threat after all. No real competition.
What an idiot he must think I am.
While the class debates which painter to emulate – Titian, Bellini, Tintoretto – like they’re average teenagers and this is entirely normal, I smile along, and pretend I’m weighing up options too. In reality, I’m watching the minutes tick by, waiting for my chance to leave. They don’t need to study the masters. They grew up with this stuff – gallery trips, weekend art classes, dinner party conversations. Me? I’m the fake. Almost convincing – until you shine a light on me.
I’m out of the Institute the second class ends. I don’t even know where I’m going, only that I need to get away from my stupid portrait. And Leo. Right now, Carnevale isn’t magical. It’s in the way. I want to stomp up to the loch in the hills behind our flat and be completely alone.
Instead, rows of schoolkids are sprawled across the paving, watching a mime in a stripy top and white-painted face. He chooses that exact moment to single me out, sending them howling with laughter as he copies my hunched shoulders and downturned mouth, then exaggerates the awkward way I step around backpacks and little legs.
‘Evie!’
I groan at Leo’s unmistakably posh tone. Clearly this day isn’t done humiliating me.
‘Please leave me alone,’ I beg.
‘OK, but … the Accademia’s that way.’
I stop and turn on him. ‘Look, da Vinci. I might need an art teacher, but I don’t need a babysitter. I’llfind it myself.’
‘Calm down. My mum told me to take you.’
‘And you always do what your mamma tells you,’ I snipe.
His ears redden and I feel the tiniest stab of satisfaction.
‘Not always. Look, I just wanted to say your painting isn’t—’
‘Stop.’ I hold up a hand. ‘No need to spell it out.’
‘But it’s not you, OK? It’s the school … it’s not for everyone—’ He winces when he realizes how he sounds.
‘Whatever,’ I say. I should’ve picked science after all. Did I actually think art could be my future? I’m not like Leo. Art’s his future. It’s not for someone like me.
He drags a hand through his hair. ‘Let me help you.’
‘What, are you going to slip your arms through mine and paint for me? Pretend it’s all my work?’
Leo’s mouth twitches like he’s holding back a laugh. ‘No. I meant take you to the Accademia.’ He looks like he’s about to cup my elbow, then thinks better of it.
I follow, grateful in spite of myself as he leads us away from the chaos with a few sharp turns, andCarnevale fades to a distant drum and a muffled burst of applause.
The art museum rises ahead of us, all chalky white walls and tall columns, a large scarlet banner stretched over the entrance. It swallows us into a cavernous hall with a polished, chequered marble floor. My footsteps echo so sharply I hear them falter when I spot the ticket desk. Not free like Scotland, then. I fish out the bank card Mum gave me for emergencies and block Leo when he tries to pay for me.
My pride’s already taken a battering today. I don’t need his pity-kindness on top.
