How We Became Us

Chapter 21

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"You wanted to see me," Matt said, popping his head into the art room where his favourite teacher, Mrs. Richards, sat at her desk. It was after school, and Matt had already planned to stay for Heather's cheer and Connor's soccer practice. Even when he didn't have to pretend to be Heather's boyfriend, he still attended every practice.

"Yes, please, come in," she said, and Matt walked in and settled on the desk in front of her. "As you know, my husband does an art show every year where he allows students from this school to show their work," Matt nodded. "Well, I want you to be a part of it—not the student section but as one of the main artists on the show."

"You want to me what?" Matt asked, blinking rapidly as he tried to process what was being told.

"We will keep it anonymous as always, but I think it would be good exposure for you," Mrs. Richards continued. She had to pull their hair to get Matt to agree to show his work when it was in the student's section.

"How would it be exposure if it's anonymous?" He asked.

"Because there will be people from some of the biggest art schools in the country. This year's gallery shows some big names but graduated students from those arts schools, and there will be professors, scouts, and the dean from those schools. Some schools offer a summer program, like a taste of what it would be like going to their school, and if they see your work and ask about you—if you want, of course—we could give them your contact. This is your chance to get them to notice you; you can get a full ride," she explained, and Matt stared at her with wide blue eyes. Glimpses of not having to hide behind his art, having people see it and then see his name beside his work, was a dream he never thought could come true. He wanted it. He wanted to go to an art showing and stand proudly beside his work with Kelly and his friends. Away from the hell of Chicago. From his parents. His parents. Shit, his parents.

"I-I can't," Matt said quietly, almost as if it hurt him to say it. "It's a great opportunity, Mrs. Richards. I appreciate it, but I can't. My future is already set up for me. This," he waves around the room, "is nothing more than a hobby." He lied, and she sighed dissapointedly.

"I don't know what your home life is like, but I do know that you just lied to me. I see your face when you're in here, doing art, and so immersed in your work that you zone everything else out. This is more than a hobby; you and I both know it. But I'm not going to force you. I will keep a spot open for you if you change your mind," she said. Matt pursed his lips and looked down at his lap. He hated disappointing anyone, specifically those who had shown him kindness.

"Thanks," Matt whispered. He got off the table and made his way to the door. When his hand was on the handle, Mrs. Richards spoke up.

"I hope you know you can come to me with anything. I mean it. If something is going on, you can let me know," she said with so much hidden meaning behind it that Matt nodded and left the room.

~~~

"What's up with you?" Heather asked, climbing the bleachers after her practice was over. Connor was picking up the equipment they'd used for drills on the field.

"Nothing's up with me," Matt muttered, continuing his sketches. Heather knew better than to try to see what he was drawing. She nearly lost an eye the last time she tried to take a sneak peek.

"Liar," she said but didn't push. Matt sighed and glared at her.

"Why is everyone calling me out on my lies?" Matt muttered, and she frowned.