I turned to head towards the art room, a large one-story building which was located next to a beautiful outdoor garden. The gardens were often used by the club members as artistic inspiration, and fodder for our many personal projects. They were a donation from a previous student’s parents and were updated yearly by the gardening club as part of their activities. I was a fan of the roses near the tiny hedge maze because they reminded me of Alice in Wonderland.

As I approached the building, I could already see most of the club was inside working hard on their own personal projects. One side of the building was entirely made of windows, letting in the most amazing natural light. The art room had a kiln, painting studio, research library, and a general mess room, which was for people who liked to build sculptures and other weird objects.

Our teacher Mrs. Gomez was flitting around the room in a brightly colored print dress and matching cardigan. She had beautiful brown skin and deep black hair that she would pull back into a messy bun. She loved to make her own jewelry, which was always as bright as her outfits. I loved her fashion style and how she could make you feel like you were capable of anything. I wished all my teachers were like her. I was loitering at the door of the art room, watching Mrs. Gomez when I heard a cough behind me.

“Excuse me,” Elizabeth said dryly.

“Oh, sorry,” I replied, stepping inside quickly. Elizabeth gave me a hard stare as she passed, unable to hide her scorn. She was the only thing I hated about Art Club. I not-so-secretly wished she would go pick another hobby, but she was sadly exceptional at watercolors.

“Ah, ladies hello!” Mrs. Gomez beamed. She rushed over towards us, a notepad in hand. “How are we doing today? Ready to paint?”

“Sure thing,” I responded, shrugging my backpack back onto my shoulder.

“Ready as always, Mrs. Gomez,” Elizabeth sang. She was always sickly sweet to all the teachers.

“Before you get to it, let me ask you a quick question,” Mrs. Gomez began. “I’m making a list of everyone’s birthdays so we can celebrate each month, so cough them up!”

“March 20th,” Elizabeth said with a flip of her hair.

“October 23rd,” I grumbled, eyeing my easel in the corner. I hoped that this was the end of the conversation.

“Excellent! Are you excited to be eighteen finally? My exceptional seniors, I’m so proud of the both of you. Ready for the open house? Only two weeks to finish those paintings,” Mrs. Gomez chattered. “And after this year you’ll be out in the real world. I hope you both keep exploring the arts.”

I mustered a smile but kept my mouth shut, as I was already nineteen. Thanks in part to my lack of sleep I was always sick, especially when I was younger. This caused me to fall two years behind all my fellow classmates, making me older than all my fellow seniors. This was an embarrassing fact that I didn’t like to tell others.

“Oh but Mrs. Gomez, Diana is already eighteen I believe,” Elizabeth chimed in. I glanced over at the queen bee of our school, who was smiling broadly at me. I knew more nasty comments were coming my way later. “Didn’t you stay behind a year?” Elizabeth went on, her tone sounded concerned but I knew she wasn’t. I could sense her amusement and hostility.

“It was two years, so I’m actually nineteen,” I confessed, smiling widely back at Elizabeth. I wasn’t going to let her think that she unnerved me. “I was sick a lot as a kid, so I missed a bunch of school, unfortunately.”

Mrs. Gomez placed her hand over her mouth, looking slightly shocked. A wave of pity flowed off her briefly. “Oh no, I had no idea, Diana.” She paused briefly, thinking a moment to herself before laughing happily. “Well, what does a year or two matter dear? Just a little bit older and a little wiser,” Ms. Gomez reassured me with a wink. I was grateful for her kind words.

Mrs. Gomez was called away and I heard Elizabeth let out a haughty laugh as soon as our teacher was out of earshot.

“Well, I hope you don’t get sick again this year,” she said with a strange smile. “They won’t let you keep repeating senior year forever.”

I immediately felt heated at her words because I knew she was just taking another dig at me. I glared at Elizabeth as she cooly walked away, satisfied with getting the last word in. I gritted my teeth as I stashed my backpack, pulling out my ancient walkman before getting to work.

Not but a few minutes later, when I was walking to the sink for a cup of water, I heard Elizabeth talking with another girl about me. Apparently, she was saying that I liked to claim I was sick, but I was actually held back because of my poor grades. The urge to deny her lies was strong, but I decided I wasn’t going to pick a fight during club hours.

I hummed to myself as I sat down at my easel, putting my headphones in my ears so as to drown out the conversation all around me. It was always so easy to forget all my worries and lose myself to another world when painting. I was putting the finishing touches on a piece titled ‘Woman in the Sky’ which depicted the first part of my dreams. The painting featured a beautiful, fat, silver-haired woman floating in the stars. I could picture her in my mind easily, with her pale grey skin and silver hair, glowing against the darkness of the ocean. The memories of the heavy chains that bound her, dragging her away against her will still chilled me.

Why do I keep seeing you in my dreams?

I was attempting to mix the perfect shade of gray for the details of her hair when my music faded out and I could hear a pair of girls talking behind me.

“I can’t believe Justin overdosed, I never pegged him for a drug user.”

“I heard the elite class had him stressed out, maybe that’s why he started using.”

“Sad.”

As I was listening in I grew careless and my brush slipped from my fingers. In my effort to catch it before it fell, I knocked directly into my water cup and it fell over, splashing dirty water everywhere. I cursed and jumped from my stool, apologizing to the girls behind me as I bent down to retrieve my paintbrush and assess the damage. I realized the pair of gossipers were Sara and Annie, best friends and fellow popular girls who hung out with Elizabeth.

“Sorry, did the paint get on you?” I asked, grabbing at a paper towel on my small table near my easel.

Sara shook her head as she examined her legs. “No, I think I’m good.”

“You scared me!” Annie exclaimed, acting as if getting dirty would be a life-ending experience.

“Again, I’m sorry,” I said flatly, moving into a standing position. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

“Oh, is that the painting you submitted for the showcase?” Sara asked, moving in closer to my canvas. “What’s it called?” I got a little nervous because neither girl had ever shown an interest in my art before. I was sure they were just looking so they could bad mouth me to Elizabeth later.

“It’s called ‘Woman in the Sky’.”

“Why is she fat?” Annie asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Sara laughed loudly at her friend’s question and a whole slew of comments flew through my head but I decided on the simplest reply.

“Why does it matter?” I asked, my tone flat.

Annie huffed at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. Sara grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her away, whispering something in her ear as they left. They both glanced back at me, snickering loudly. I could feel their irritation and it was rubbing off on me. I was back at the sink, cleaning off my brush when Mrs. Gomez called the attention of the club, waving happily from the middle of the room.

“Hello my artists, can we all gather around? Thank you please.”

The people who were working in the other rooms joined us, some just sticking their heads through the doorway to listen. I leaned up against the counter, wondering if she was finally going to announce the art that made it into the showcase this year. I knew as a senior I would get at least one piece in the show, but only a few students would be featured.

“I have in my hand the list of art pieces we will be showing at the open house this year. You all worked very hard over the last year and produced some beautiful work. New kids, don’t be discouraged if you didn’t get in, some of your upperclassmen have been working on their pieces for a while,” Mrs. Gomez took a moment to smile at everyone around the room. “That being said, I will be featuring three of our seniors this year. Their artwork will later be moved into the big case inside the school, for the rest of the year.”

There was some murmuring among the students, everyone was curious about who the final three were. I glanced over at Elizabeth who appeared cool and collected as she waited to hear the results. I could sense her pride from across the room.

“First we will have three watercolor pieces from Elizabeth, entitled Autumn Morning, Rose, and Girl by the Lake.”

There was a polite smattering of applause and both Annie and Sara squealed happily as they hugged their friend.

Mrs. Gomez’s smile widened as she continued her list. “Next we have a sculpture piece by Trevor entitled Lady of the Woods.”

I raised my hands to applaud this time as I really liked Trevor’s work. His clay sculptures were amazing, and I was happy to see he got in.

“And finally, we have Diana with her paintings entitled Woman in the Sky, Oak Tree, and Mountain Town.”

I felt my face flush with excitement at the sound of my name, my fellow club members all applauded for me as well and I was sure I was grinning like an idiot. Mrs. Gomez posted the rest of the list on the wall and everyone crowded around to see if they made the cut.

As I began chatting with a few fellow club members about the upcoming open house I finally noticed the time. Realizing I had a train to catch I rushed to clean up, closing up my palette and washing my brushes in record time. I told Trevor congratulations on getting into the show, thanked Mrs. Gomez, and gathered my backpack before walking towards the exit. I saw Casimir as soon as I left, examining a rose bush carefully in the garden nearby. A pair of freshmen girls were watching him, curious as to who he was. I heard one of them declaring him ‘super cute’ and I suppressed a smile. I hopped down the small set of stairs leading to the garden and Casimir looked up as I approached.

“The grounds here are really amazing,” he said, in a way of greeting.

“Not too shabby right?” I grinned, placing my hands on my hips. “Did Zola show you the vegetable gardens?”

“Oh yes, she is very proud of her pumpkins,” Casimir mused, glancing behind me at the art clubhouse. “Are you ready to go?”

“Oh yeah,” I replied, starting my trek down the path. “Hope you brought a book because it is a long train ride home.”

Casimir just smiled and followed.