Arlene the Artist's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

The class ended at noon. Six students thanked Arlene on the way out. The seventh, one of the teenagers, left without lifting her head. Arlene had watched her all morning. The girl had drawn the pear three times, crumpled each sheet, and pushed the last one under her chair. She wore a hoodie two sizes too big and would not meet Arlene's eyes at the door. Claire found Arlene stacking chairs. "You did well." "One of them left crying." Claire stopped. "Did she say anything?" "No. That's the problem." Arlene picked up the crumpled paper from under the chair and smoothed it on the table. The lines were careful. The girl had looked at the pear. She had looked hard. "If she tells people the class made her feel stupid, no one comes next Saturday." Claire nodded once. "Do you know where she lives?" "I have the sign-up sheet." "Then go." Arlene went home first. She stood in her studio and looked at the paintings stacked face-inward against the wall. She did not want to arrive empty-handed and she did not want to arrive with a lecture. She opened the drawer under her worktable and took out a small sketchbook with a soft painted cover. She had bought it a year ago and never used it. She put it in her bag. The address was a narrow house near the old schoolhouse with the bell tower. Arlene knocked. A woman answered, tired, holding a dish towel. Arlene said she was the art teacher. The woman called up the stairs. The girl came down slowly. She stopped four steps from the bottom. "I brought your drawing back," Arlene said. She held out the smoothed paper. "You looked at the pear longer than anyone else in the room. I watched you." The girl's mouth tightened. "It was ugly." "It wasn't." Arlene set the sketchbook on the stair rail. "The first ten I ever did were worse. I kept them. I still have them." She paused. "This is for you. Not for class. Nobody sees it but you until you decide." The girl looked at the cover. She did not take it. She did not walk away either. "Come Saturday," Arlene said. "Sit in the back if you want. Draw or don't. But come." The girl reached out and took the sketchbook. She held it against her chest. "Okay," she said. Arlene walked home the long way, past the schoolhouse. She thought about the girl holding the book against her hoodie. She thought about the six others who had thanked her. For the first time in three years, she had given someone something and watched them keep it. At her kitchen table she opened her notebook and wrote Week Two at the top. Under it she wrote: bring extra sketchbooks.