spirit of something alive in something that doesn't move, like clay or stone. ... I don't know, Ashley. Are you sure we want to go out on a limb like that? Why don't we stick to the more usual stuff?"
And that was when Ashley had said her craft was calling and I'd gotten some good mileage out of the word "what."
"Come downtown with me after school today," she said finally. "We'll go right into the field. I'm sure we'll be inspired."
"What field?" I replied.
"I mean the real world."
"Oh. Well, all right." The "real world" sounded very exciting. Going into the field was probably something only true artists did. A smile spread across my face. We were going to be pioneers, sculpting pioneers. Ashley and
I would try techniques other sculptors had never thought about. I looked across the table at Ashley's serious, eager face. "Great idea," I added. "It'll be exciting. Plus, then we can get to work right away. . . . Oh, but I have another club meeting this afternoon, so I have to be home by five-thirty."
"Sure. No problem," replied Ashley tightly.
Just as going to the watercolor exhibit with Ashley had been an eye-opening experience, so was simply walking around downtown Stoneybrook with her. Maybe because she was new to town, or maybe because she was such a talented artist, Ashley noticed all sorts of things that had never seemed particularly noticeable to me before. And she saw things in them that I never saw. Well, never saw first. After Ashley pointed them out to me, I saw them.
As soon as we reached Stoneybrook's main street, Ashley grabbed my arm.
"What, what?" I cried, getting double use of the word.
"Look at that!" said Ashley, pointing.
"What?"
"That."
"That fire hydrant?"
"Yes. Look at the way it's shaped. It's . . .
almost noble. It's little and squat, but it's sitting up straight and square, like a jockey on a prize winning steed."
"Wow," I said, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"That just might be my subject," said Ashley thoughtfully, nodding her head.
"For your sculpture?" I repeated incredulously. "But why would you sculpt it? What's so special about an old fire hydrant?"
"That it's little but noble. I'd try to bring out those qualities when I sculpt it. I think that the secret of sculpting inanimate objects is making them look animated."
The word "what" was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. When I thought about it, I understood what Ashley meant. I just couldn't see any way to do it.
"Come on, let's see what else there is."
Now, over the years I have scoured Stoney-brook in search of a new pair of shoes, in search of a certain kind of blue-jean jacket, in search of .school supplies, and once in search of Mary Anne's reading glasses. But this was the first time I'd scoured the town exclaiming over hubcaps and litter baskets and street lamps. I did sort of get into the spirit of things, though.
"Oh!" cried Ashley. "Look at that traffic light!" Ashley sounded more excited that afternoon than I'd ever heard her. It was amazing what art did to her.
"Yeah," I replied. And (I swear I don't know where this' came from) I added, "Think of the power it holds. It controls the traffic. It can make people late. It can prevent accidents. It's a little box doing an awfully big job."
"Yeah!" said Ashley admiringly. She paused, then added thoughtfully, "Maybe that's your subject."
"Maybe," I replied uncertainly.
We walked on.
"Look at the gum wrapper," said Ashley.
"Look at that squashed soda can," I said.
By the time we sat down in Renwick's for a snack, all I could say was, "Look at that straw!" and "Look at that dish rag!" Stuff like that. Until I checked my watch. Then I cried, "Look at the time!"
"What time is it?" asked Ashley.
"Five-ten. I'm going to be late for another meeting. I'm sorry, but I've got to leave."
"But Claudia, we haven't made any definite decisions. We have to go back and look at the fire hydrant and the stoplight again."
"I have to go to the
Learning to Kill: Stories