Damn it! It’s wrong. I’ve tried everything at this point! Scarlet, maroon, burgundy. And now, I’m gonna be the first to fail art class. It was the simplest assignment; paint the perfect rose. Drawing the outline was the easy part. Or, it got easier after the thirty-eighth time.
“Can’t find the perfect shade?” Vanessa’s voice breaks me from my frustration as I turn to see her standing in the doorway. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, accidentally getting some green in there. It wouldn’t matter anyway, I was probably going to shower after soccer practice anyway.
“Nope. I’m gonna fail, get kicked off the soccer team, and my life will be over,” I say, exasperated.
“You just need some inspiration. Have you gone through all the colors in the storage?” I nod. “Well, that just means the color doesn’t exist in the art room. You need to go out into the world and find it.” At first, I take her suggestion lightly. But then again, I had already looked at every paint this school has to offer. So, after some contemplation, I started my search.
There was the apple on my teacher’s desk. Too dark. The pansies in front of the school. Too light. I could paint the pansies, but I have my heart set on the rose. This has been going on for about a week now and it wasn’t getting any easier. I was becoming more desperate by the day. And then Sunday night approached. The project was due tomorrow and I had next to nothing. As I was about to break tears the doorbell rang. When I passed the mirror in the hall I noticed the veins in my eyes were a good color. But just not right. My now calloused hand opened the door to reveal my friend Zack. He was the goalie on the soccer team and my friend.
“Hey! Where were you on Friday? You missed practice. Coach sent you an email but you didn’t respond. I thought I’d check on you. How are you?” He must’ve struck a nerve. Because before I could even contemplate what he had just said, I grabbed his shoulders and pinned him against the wall. He was shocked and I was nearly shaking.
“How am I? Can’t you see I’m suffering?!” I yelled in his face. I could see the fear in his eyes, so I loosened up and let him go.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” I apologized, looking down. “I’ve been driving myself crazy over this art project and if I fail, I get kicked off the soccer team.”
“I know,” Zack said, rubbing his shoulder. I feel bad for a moment. He’s the goalie and carries his stress in his shoulders. “Is there anything I can do?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” I say, looking down at the bandaid that was peeling off his shoulder. He got his flu vaccine the other day and the bandaid was still a bit bloody. It was dry, dark, and perfect. I grabbed the end that wasn’t attached to his flesh and ripped it off. Making him wince.
“Why don’t we go up to my room? I think you can help me with my project.”
I had never felt more confident going to school the following day. My art project under my arm as I walked to the art room. I made sure it was facing out so everyone could see my masterpiece. While setting it up on my easel, I heard Vanessa and Miss Jacoby come up behind me.
“Wow Ethan, you had a great turnout!” the latter said with enthusiasm. If my smile could grow any bigger, it did.
“Thank you, Miss J. But I’ll admit, I had some help from my friend Zack,” I say with false modesty. I deserved all the credit I got. But I supposed Zack deserved a little too. Miss Jacoby’s face morphed from a smile to sadness. She reached out and put her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Ethan. I know he was your friend. If you need anything I’m here.”
How sentimental. And stupid at the same time. I suppose I should feel bad for giving his parents a scare like that. I could hear his mom’s scream from all the way down the block. She must’ve blamed herself. I mean, nobody is covered in blood for no reason.
“Thank you, Miss J. I appreciate it.” Vanessa wipes away a stray tear and tries to change the conversation.
“I heard they found a pallet with his blood on it!” Vanessa exclaimed. My stomach twists, but I don’t let it show.
“Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see. He probably cut himself and didn’t notice until it was too late.” I may not be a great painter but I am a decent liar.
“Vanessa now is not the time to make theories. Zack’s death still haunts us all,” Miss Jacoby chastises her. Making Vanessa look down slightly and mutter a sorry. To which I wave off casually.
“You did make a great painting though. I suppose driving yourself crazy about it paid off.”
“It did. You could say I put in a lot of sweat, tears, and blood.”
