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RACHEL
“Alrightclass,”beginsMs. Weaver, the teacher of Drawing 202, as soon as she enters the room. Her glasses hang on the tip of her nose. She pushes back her hair, red and clipped short, before tugging on her wrinkled button-down shirt, the collared stained with yellow; either mustard or paint. Most likely paint if I know Ms. Weaver.
The chatter ceases and everyone faces forward. Ms. Weaver isn’t like other art instructors. She’s strict and impatient. Excuses mean nothing to her. At times, she reminds me of Dr. Arnaud. She takes art seriously. I can tell it’s her passion, and she has no time to deal with anyone who doesn’t take their studies seriously.
I try to keep my attentions focused on Ms. Weaver, standing in front of us, pulling out several folders and placing them on her desk. However, my eyes keep sliding to Lauren and Josh sitting in the front, passing notes back and forth. Lauren giggles, covering her mouth with one hand, while Josh waggles his eye brows.
Ugh. Gag me with a freaking spoon.
“Today we will begin our big end of the year project,” Ms. Weaver continues, ignoring Lauren’s giggling while she briskly strides to the other side of the room, handing a large packet of papers to one student to pass around the classroom. “Everyone will need to find a partner.”
I immediately turn to Charlie, who gives me a sly grin and a thumbs up sign.
I chuckle. “Hello, partner.”
“Now, this project will be worth fifty percent of your grade,” continues Ms. Weaver while pacing back and forth, her hands held behind her back. “You will be looking at your partner’s portfolio, and drawing in their style on a theme of your choosing. It can be anything. During finals week, I want you both to present your theme, why it was chosen, and how you conveyed it. Also, I want a complete presentation about your partner’s style. Do they draw caricatures? Or is it more anatomical based? Or, perhaps, they prefer still life.” Ms. Weaver pauses in front of Lauren’s desk, narrowing her eyes.
I wince. Lauren doesn’t even notice Ms. Weaver is staring at her. She’s too busy making eyes at Josh. Part of me wants to throw something at her, but a small whisper inside my head tells me to stay out of it and keep my head down.
“Do you understand?” Ms. Weaver says, her voice sharp and filled with irritation as she leans forward, towering over Lauren.
I watch Lauren flinch, her body tensing as she turns to face Ms. Weaver. “Y-yes,” Lauren stutters, her head bobbing up and down.
“Good.” Ms. Weaver sighs as she strides toward her desk, plopping herself down into her chair. “I’ll give you the rest of class time to discuss with your partner your plans. Have pages ten through twenty-five read in your books for tomorrow. We will be discussing Van Gogh’s style and what inspired him as an artist.”
Ms. Weaver takes out her textbook, flipping through the pages and making notes on the pages. The class is unusually quiet. Rather than turning into a loud roar of chatter, I hear merely whispers.
“Any ideas?” I ask Charlie while turning toward her.
Charlie taps her chin, her eyes looking upwards as if she’s trying to turn the light bulb in her head on. “A few. Although, I don’t know if you’ll like any of them.”
I groan. “You know how much I hate drawing dresses. Fashion really isn’t my thing, as you can see,” I add while gesturing toward my oversized, frumpy black sweater and my leggings. I look like your typical basic girl with the black UGG boots to match and my curly hair tied up into a messy bun.
Charlie chuckles. “Nah, girl, you look cute in whatever you wear.”
I purse my lips, my head tilting to the side as my eyes narrow. “Liar.”
“Alright, alright, fashion is out.” Charlie scrunches her nose, looking around for a moment before leaning in close. “I have another idea. It’s an interesting one. Maybe one that no one will think of, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
My eyes widen, my interest piqued. “What is it?”
Charlie leans in closer, her hand cupping my ear as she whispers, “Female sexuality.”
“Huh?” I ask while jerking away from her.
She gives me a knowing look, but I have no clue what I am supposed to know.
“What do you mean?” I ask while shaking my head. “I don’t understand.”
Charlie sighs, looking away. “Maybe it’s a stupid idea.” Her cheeks are turning the slightest shade of pink, as if she’s embarrassed. But this is Charlie we’re talking about. She never gets embarrassed.
“No, explain it to me,” I insist. “I want to know what you mean by-by…” I frown. Can I really not say female sexuality? After all the screwing around I’ve done with the bros, I’m still afraid to discuss my intimacy?
Charlie closes the distance between us, grabbing my hands and gripping them tight. “We can draw women having an orgasm, using our styles. It doesn’t have to show sexual positions. It can just be the woman, and we can discuss the importance of women’s satisfaction and intimacy.”
I nod. Charlie was right. No one will have that theme.
“Alright,” I find myself saying. “That sounds good.”
