Bottled Blue

Thirteen

Jett's aunt was a vivacious person. She was about the same height as me. She had brown hair and big brown eyes and was really bubbly. She introduced herself as Billie and then led us out to her car. I took the backseat, and Jett took the front. They bickered over the radio for a few minutes before she smacked his hand and put her music on full blast. Then no one could talk because the music was too loud.

The art classes were being held in the local community college. It felt weird being there in my school uniform, but luckily my jacket covered most of the ugly mustard yellow plaid skirt. I followed Jett and Billie inside wearily as they talked about the class. Billie was excited about it. Jett just wanted to make sure there weren't going to be live nudes.

We signed into the classroom, and Billie paid for our supplies. She apparently signed up for the class with Jett's mom and someone named Cyrena. Unfortunately, both Cyrena and Jett's mom dropped out after one lesson. His mom shoved the class onto Jett, and I apparently got Cyrena's place.

We collected our stuff and headed toward the back circle of easels.

"I can't wait to see what we're going to do today," Billie said, setting up her charcoal pencils. I decided to follow her lead, but I left my jacket on. She said I'd be too stiff, but I felt weird in my uniform.

Billie was really excited because she said we were going to paint from life, which was apparently really helpful in the art process or something. So when I said, "They're not naked people, are they?" She looked off, narrowed her eyes, and said, "I'm not sure, actually. Either naked people or a bowl of fruit."

Luckily, when the instructor came in, everyone was fully clothed. She talked about how live models were the best way to understand the human body. Jett and I glanced at each other nervously. She went over what we were supposed to do and not do. Like we couldn't pay too much attention to trivial details like the fold of cloth and stuff. We shared a look of relief.

That only lasted briefly. She introduced us to our model, Jeffery, and then went to help newcomers get started. Jeffery was a lanky fellow who looked to be approximately fifty years old. He had a scraggly beard and wrinkly skin, and hollowed-out cheeks. I was trying to figure out how I would draw him without getting caught up on trivial details since his pants had shiny decals on the back pocket. And then he dropped them, and I got a full view of Jeffery's wrinkly ass. I immediately yelped and turned to Jett. He looked back at me and blinked.

"I honestly wasn't expecting this," he said. "I'm really sorry."

"Oh, come on, guys. Don't be such prudes," Billie said, already getting started on sketching Jeffery's naked flesh. I kept my eyes on Jett, afraid of looking anywhere else. "It's not like you've never seen nude bodies before." Jett kept his eyes on mine. Probably thinking the same thing.

"We're children. This is child abuse," I argued.

"You're eighteen, Miss Inglewood. And Jett is almost eighteen, and I have his mother's permission."

"I can't do this." He turned and glanced at Billie and then back to me.

"You want to get out of here?" he asked. I nodded.

"Please?"

"You guys can't leave. You haven't even tried yet," Billie whined.
"Let's make a run for it," Jett said.

He stretched out his hand, and there was only the briefest moment of hesitation. This small voice in the back of my head that said, "You don't want to hold hands with Jett Kanellis." But then I could make out the form of Jeffery, stretching out on a velvet blanket in the middle of the room, and I yanked Jett's hand. We ran for the door, and the last thing I saw before it closed was Jeffery's bare ass.