I look up from whatever my daydream's stare wasfixated on. I'm pretty sure the curse just came from the student I would have least expected it from.
"Something wrong, Clover?" I reluctantly get out of my chair and walk over to where she's sitting behind her easel.
When I get to her side and the canvas no longer blocks my view, I can see that she's covered in blue paint.
"I'm sorry."
"It's all good. Go wash yourself up in the sink over there, and I'll clean this up."
She jumps from her stool and shuffles over to the sink, trying not to let the blob of paint that's in her hands and all over her arm drop. I get to work cleaning up the paint that's splattered on the floor.
God, this is why I hate kids. They're always so fucking messy. If Liam had told me that there would be a kid in his adult painting class, I would have saidnowhen he asked me to sub for him. What is she doing here, anyway? She has to be like six years old. Actually, I have no clue how old she is. I was never good at guessing ages. Regardless, she's too young for me to have any patience for her bullshit.
A few months ago, friends from my hometown, Liam and Evie, had their first baby. Evie, being the go-getter that she is, wanted to get back to work as soon as possible, so they decided that Liam would stay home with the baby for a few more months. He had already committed to teaching this painting class at a local community art center, so he asked me to be his replacement. It’s only once a week for eight weeks, so I figured, why not? I haven’t been traveling as much for work since Daniel hired Fia, and lately I’ve been getting bored with all the extra free time I have.
Just as I’m finishing cleaning up the paint-splattered floor, I start to wonder where she is. It can’t take that long to wash paint off your arms. But I guess whenyou’re a kid...
“Fuck!” I put my hand on my chest to steady my racing heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” I stand up and look down at the little girl who was standing behind me. “How long were you standing there for?”
She shrugs, still looking embarrassed by her accident.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have cussed in front of you.”
“That’s okay. My dad cusses all the time.”
“Good.” Thank goodness she’s not a little nark. The last thing I need is for Liam to get a complaint from an angry parent about his potty-mouthed substitute.
“I said shit.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together, not sure what her point is.
“Earlier, when the paint tube exploded. I said shit.”
“Cool…” Thinking back on it, she did cuss, didn’t she? I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
“You’re not mad?”
“No.” This is so uncomfortable. I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s parent.
“I’m only allowed to say bad words at home. My parents call them home words. It’s okay if I say them in anger at home, but they said I shouldn’t say them in public or else adults will get mad at me.”
“Well, say all the home words you want here. I don’t give a shit.”
The corners of her mouth turn up, and she lets out a quiet giggle. “I like you.”
I feel myself smile back at her. There's no way I'm starting to grow a soft spot for this kid just because she's a little potty-mouth. “How old are you anyway?”
“Eight.“
“And what are you doing in an adult art class?”
She shrugs, her arms out to the sides. “How am I supposed to know? My dad signed me up.”
Now I’m laughing? What the hell. I remind myself to ask Liam about this later. Maybe it was a mistake.
“Alright, kid, get back to work.” I give her blonde head an awkward pat and start walking back to my desk. I’m stopped in my tracks when her canvas catches my eye. “Holy shit.” I was too focused on cleaning up the paint earlier that I didn’t even notice what she’s been working on for the past two hours. “Clover…”
“What?” She looks from me to her painting, then back to me.
