Elizabeth really did attempt to listen to the mathematics teacher. I mean she thought she was fine. Sure her doodles covered the page and one would have to look for the numbers, but in her mind this is how she learned. Doodling along side her notes had maintained her average gpa; however she still struggled with math and blamed that on her creative mind.
The teacher did not understand. Mr. Smitter was not exactly sure whether the girl was dumb or was a genius. Even him, with his too tight of pants, had seen her work. A prodigy, her oil painting lit up a room and even took the dull teacher into her fantastical worlds. Of course it was his duty to reprimand her, and he was about to before the regular came in.
"Umm Mr.Smitter it says Elizabeth Snow should go to the art room."
The nervous and new office aid called.
"You may go Ms.Snow" Mr. Smitter grumbled. What is more important than math? was a thought always on his mind.
Elizabeth smiled and hurried to her sanctuary. Ms. Kell, was a savior. Her art teacher was surely a saint for getting her out of math class. This had happened a multitude of times and she knew she would be staying in the warm enclose of the art room until she was forced to return to her not so humble abode. Still it brought a smile to her face knowing that after school she was heading to the forest, and skipping the akward foster care dinners in order to paint from life. Nature she thought was her best muse.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Wolves
WerewolfArt was her passion. Elizabeth Snow, a 17 year old who had a slight addiction to chocolate, was a mastermind behind a canvas. She didn't mind being alone, she was an introvert at heart; but more importantly she had always been. Without much of a fam...
