Watercolor Blue

3-White

"... I want all of you to make me a piece out of any medium you prefer, make whatever you feel like making and I'll judge your skills at the end" Mr. King told his students with dull enthusiasm.

Constance lay out her watercolor sheet, licking her dry lips and cursing herself for not bringing the tiny container of colorless lip balm. She glanced at her peers with a nervous heart and wondered how good they were at their art. A girl with a prominent hooked nose sat on the stool beside her, even more prominent were the fiery red highlights creeping up her black hair. A silver nose stud glimmered in the studio lights and Constance couldn't help smile at her.

"Hi" her voice came out uncertain.

The girl bared her slightly crooked teeth and offered her hand. "Hello"

"I'm Constance"

"Aaila...You're new here right? How do you find it so far?" Her voice was like the ripples in a gentle stream.

"I can't say much, not yet"

Constance wet her broad brush and spread water upon the thick sheet of paper, her mind formed an outrageous plan and she began to execute it right away. She watched the paint bleed and morph on the paper before her; she twisted and flicked her wrist, playing with the colors, controlling them as much as she could but they seemed to have a mind of their own.

She peered at Aaila's sheet; it was drenched in black with a depressing choice of color adorning the edges, her hand moved slowly, perhaps contemplating the choice of palette. The lanky Mr. King strolled over to his students with avid curiosity, offering pieces of advice and honest praise. His eyes drifted from sheet to canvas to miniature art, he was clearly bored out of his mind.

The bell rang like a shrill banshee, attracting the attention of every teenager in the room. Constance felt the presence of her teacher behind her, every muscle in her frail hands tensed and she looked at him to state his opinion.

He regarded her work with a placid face, people drifted out of the class for their next lesson but Constance found herself frozen in spot. Her thoughts had begun mere lines of monotony and she anticipated a negative comment. The class was empty and smelt of the concentrated smell of paint thinners.

"Tell me...what is on your mind?" He finally spoke stroking his silver beard.

"M-y mind?"

"Yes Miss Stone, tell me what inspired you for this piece?" His slow speech made Constance stop and think for a while.

"Maybe it has something to do with me changing cities"

"You don't sound so sure Child"

"Suffering then? I think I'm inspired by suffering" she stared at her hands.

"To suffer is to learn new things, to learn is to express. I can see that here on these watercolors" Mr. King smiled like a father would to a child who had done well.

"If there is any advice I feel worth giving to my students...it is to know your soul better than anyone else. Your mind influences your work, your emotions depicted by the colors you choose. Be mindful...very mindful of what you want to reveal Miss Stone. Some secrets could ruin you if you repress them." He winked.

"Thank you Mr. King" Constance replied, her black eyes wide with surprise.

"Glad to have you in my class Miss Stone" the old man gave her an honest smile before she made her exit.

She hastily shuffled out of the room only to bump into Hunter's composed physique. He stared down at her with cold curiosity playing in his eyes.

"We have English together; I thought you might get lost"