Hell's Personal Assassin: Book 1

Chapter 6

"Okay, since we just finished a major project and you guys are probably fried out up in those little heads of yours," my art teacher said, but I was barely able to focus on her. All I could think about was how I treated Zach this morning. "Let's just do a two day sketchbook instead of a test on the artist we were mimicking.

"Draw anything," she directed as she started to pass out our sketchbooks. "It could be a guitar, your pet, a sport you love, anything! Just follow the paper I give you and you should get a high grade," she said as she gently placed my big sketchbook on my desk with the rubric. "Have fun!" She said cheerfully before going behind her desk and doing little sketches of her own.

I slowly opened up my sketchbook and turned the pages of it gently, not wanting to rip any of the pages. As I turned the pages I looked around the classroom using my peripheral vision and sighed quietly in content. There weren't many people in my art class, only about seventeen students, and thankfully all of them had there own little clique tables even when it came to a class like this. All of my friends were either in an earlier class or didn't do art, so I was stuck sitting by myself at a big table.

And I loved it.

I loved the feeling of being away from people: out of the way of drama, rumors, distractions, etc.

Especially today, when being alone is literally all that I wanted this whole entire day.

"Ok. Next," I said to myself as I found an empty page in the sketchbook and brought the paper the teacher gave out up to my face, reading it in my head.

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Ask yourself:
- does my project cover at least three-fourths of the page?
- does my project have a good use of whatever medium I am using?
- is there correct shading, blending, burnishing, etc. in my piece?
- is the focal point (center of interest) obvious?
- is there a good use of craftsmanship in my piece?
- could someone else understand what the piece is?

_____________

I looked over the small, half sheet of paper with a concentrated look. I understood the rules and what the teacher wanted from me, but I didn't know what to draw, or what medium I should use. Paint? Pencil? Pen? Sharpie? Pastels?

"Michelle, is everything alright, dear?" the teacher asked in a concerned voice right behind me, making me jump slightly in my seat from the shock of her suddenly being next to me when she was ten feet away a second ago.

"Um.. Yeah, I just don't know what to draw," I replied in a calmed voice, the teacher's face instantly calming as well.

"Would you what me to give you a little nudge to help?" the old woman said with a kind smile, making me smile back and nod.

"Yes, thank you," I answered with a smile as I turned my body around to face her.

"Okay," she said, her voice turning a little bit serious. "After I leave I want you to close you eyes, and I want you to search in here," she said, tapping my forehead "and here," she said, tapping where my heart is "for the answer. Even if the answer might not be what you want to draw, draw it. Let you fingers do the work for you."

I stared at her blankly, not liking the advice she gave me. I wanted her to say something like "draw a duck", not "search your soul for the answer". I've already thought about it, but nothing came to mind.

As if the teacher could read my mind, she grabbed my shoulders with her little, bony fingers and gave them a firm and sure squeeze. "Think harder," she demanded calmly in a serious voice before letting go of me and waking away, her little four foot frame walking away and leaving me completely confused.