The "Master Piece"

I stepped back to exam my work. 15 minuets of my life would determine my whole future. Why would I procrastinate till the last minuets you ask? I do not know myself, but I can tell you that it wasn't my fault.

At my school, Freshmen's are required to enter some type of competition to show off their so called "talents". Why? Because thirty different collage principles and vice princapal as will be there watching your every move. Well I don't know about you, but I have know idea what my talent. I had tried sports and miserably failed. Dancing was even worse. In the seventh grade, I had friend out for my schools musical, but didn't even get a call back. So what was I to do.

"How could I find a talent in less than a month?!" I asked Molly, my best friend who was the greatest person ever at basketball.

"Carter, how am I suppose to know." A pause. A terribly bad sign.

" I mean you weren't that bad at tennis in P.E, we you?"

"I get my head with the racket, and I wasn't even playing."

"Sorry, but I have to run, see you later!"

"Thanks," I sarcastically thought. Could I enter the cooking competition? I thought back to six grade when my home ec teacher said.

"Cooking is an art! What is this?"

...

Wait think that again Carter.

"Cooking is an art..."

That was it! I could enter the art competition! I would start right away! Abstract! No still life! I couldn't think strait I was so happy!

When I got home I made about a ba-jillion different rough drafts. Then I finally found the perfect piece I would use. Two weeks later I finished my final project.

"Mom! Dad! Zack! Come I here! I have a amazing surprise!" My family walked in (except for my baby brother who got carried in). Zack was crying, and u could tell my mom looked annoyed.

But when she saw the painting, my work, all of that when away and proud filled her eyes. She stepped up to take a closer look. Then the worst possible thing happened.

Zack threw up.

On my painting.

I ran up to my room crying. I didn't stop sulking till I finally got over it. The night before the piece was due. I couldn't loom as bad as I though, could it?

When I turned it in, the art judge cave it a confused look. He looked up to relies I was standing in front of him.

"Thank you... Good job." I could tell he forded that last part out.

I haven't heard anything back after three months of waiting. I guess I don't really care, but I did have a lot of hope for and art future. But there's always something for everyone... Right?