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We walked around the perimeter of the gallery, where a series of oil paintings were hung on the wall. I liked the abstract style, though it wasn’t something I would have done myself. It was nice to see that there were working artists here in Rosebridge.
“Brianne? Is that you?”
We turned to see a professor beaming at Brianne. She grinned when she saw me, too, even though I’d never before seen her in my life.
“Professor Barley! This is my friend Margie,” said Brianne smoothly, and the professor shook hands with me. “Professor Barley is the sponsor of the Spectrum Coalition. She also helps run this gallery.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said politely. Again, I couldn’t help but remember the part of me that yearned to attend a meeting… for no discernible purpose.
“Maybe we’ll see you around some time,” said Professor Barley, who seemed a little out of breath. If she was in charge of this huge event, I didn’t blame her.
“Sure,” I said noncommittally.
“I actually wanted to ask you, Brianne… I saw you hanging out with that street performer the other day. She seems to be popular with the students, yes?” asked Professor Barley.
“Oh, sure. People love hanging out around her,” said Brianne. “I’ve actually been playing with her a little too.”
Professor Barley’s eyebrows rose. “Really! Well, then, we must have you play at our next gallery show. It’s a paid gig, of course.”
“That would be great, Professor Barley. When is it?”
“Next month? We try to have some event like this every month, you know.”
“It’s just that… we don’t have a band name or anything. I mean, we’re not a formal band. We just play and improvise on the street,” said Brianne, doubt entering her voice.
Professor Barley waved her hand. “Oh, that’s not a problem at all. The weather will be nicer so there’ll be more outdoor activities and art. We were hoping to have you on the terrace.”
“That’d be perfect,” said Brianne, grinning.
“Great! I must be off,” said Professor Barley. “Nice to meet you, Margie.”
I waved as she left, surprised that she’d even remembered my name. She seemed like a really nice person. And Brianne did too, which had been surprising. It just showed that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover.
“I think I do want a drink,” said Brianne. “If we’re going to be here a while.”
We stood in the line and waited. “Are your other friends coming?” I asked.
“Maybe,” said Brianne doubtfully, looking down at her phone. “They usually come to every single one of these things, but they all seem to have midterms they’re concerned with.”
“It’s Friday!” I said, gesturing. “They can study tomorrow.”
Brianne smiled. “Exactly what I said.”
A funny feeling went through me when she smiled at me. She had a good face, I decided. Strong cheekbones and jaw, dove gray eyes, and a quirk in her smile. She’d be a good subject for a portrait.
For some reason, I blushed when I looked away, and I stayed turned around so she wouldn’t see.
She got her wine and we wandered off to look at more art. There was a sculpture display in the center of the room, and apparently, the studios were open so we could meet artists and watch them work.
“I like this one,” said Brianne, stopping in front of one of the sculptures, which appeared to be of a raccoon sitting on top of a deer skull. It looked like it was made of clay and was painted with rich earth tones.
“It’s beautiful,” I agreed.
Brianne bent over to look at the price tag. “Two thousand dollars!” she said in a low voice. “And it sold. There’s a marking on the tag.”
“Damn. Nice work if you can get it, huh?”
“It’d be awesome to be a working artist or musician. Instead of a marketing executive, or whatever else my parents think I should do,” said Brianne, scoffing.
