All we did for the rest of the time in Spanish was draw out our cupcakes.
Carson wasn't much of a drawer, but he was a really good colorer.
Kinda.
The whole time we were working together, it just felt awkward.
But now, as I sit here painting, I realize that I liked it.
"That's really good!" Someone exclaims from behind me.
I snap out of it and turn around.
"Oh, thanks." I say, monotonely.
We're working on stippling. It's where you paint with dots or small strokes.
It's tricky, 'cause, when you're working on it up close, it looks bad. But when you're done and you look at it from a distance, it looks pretty good.
I put one more dot of greenish-yellow paint in the grass.
Finally, I'm done. I just have to get Mr. Smith's approval.
I delicately pick up the still-wet painting and approach him at the front of the room.
"Is this okay?" I ask, holding up my masterpiece.
It's not really a masterpiece but...
"That's fine," He answers, looking uninterested. "Hang it up."
On the board, there are 3 other paintings, all very light.
I sit mine next to one with a farmhouse on it.
I trudge back to my seat with dry paint coating my fingers.
The sink looks nice and inviting, but there aren't any paper towels. There never are, actually.
I put the tops back on every cup of paint I opened, and I pour out the green water in my rinse cup.
I grab all 5 little containers of paint and toss them in my bucket. I clean off my yellow stained paint brush and throw it in as well.
Our class cabinet is the last one on the right. I take my bucket and slide it back into place.
The paint clinging to my skin feels gross. I have to wash it off, paper towels or not.
I step over to the messy sink and turn the handle on warm.
At first the water is ice cold, then it slowly gets hotter, degree by degree.
I pump some bubbly soap out of the dispenser on the wall and scrub my hands until the majority of white and yellow and green paint comes off.
I rinse them, making sure that every soap sud is gone.
I hang them over the sink for a second, so that they can drip a little.
It's a good thing I wore dark jeans today.
I smear my wet hands all over my pant legs to dry them.
"There will be a bus change; bus 154 will be replaced with bus 67," the intercom booms. "The boys basketball game will be rescheduled for Friday, February 28th."
Nothing that concerns me.
"People in the musical will have practice Tuesday and Thursday from 2:30-4:30," They ramble on. "We apoplogize for canceling the pep rally. It will be rescheduled for Friday."
The speaker shuts off and it's quiet again.
I glance at the clock and it's already 2:35. Only 2 minutes left of Wednesday.
