Getting the Boot by Peggy Guthart Strauss Read Free Book Online Page A

lunchtime. Marina was nose-deep in a book of poems by Allen Ginsberg, which seemed fitting. She was plugged into her iPod and seemed to have no clue Kelly was even there. Finally Kelly worked up the nerve to tap her on the shoulder.
    Marina’s head popped up and her eyes widened in surprise. She looked Kelly up and down, from her lavender top to her artfully frayed denim miniskirt. Finally, she took off her headphones and spoke. “May I help you?”
    She was polite, anyway. Kelly smiled her most electric, appealing smile. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” She was usually the queen of breezy and casual. Where had that slightly desperate edge to her voice come from?
    â€œSuit yourself.” Marina returned to her reading.
    So Kelly sat there, every bite of her salami sandwich tasting like dirt, watching the minutes crawl by on the clock and straining to think of something to say. It finally came to her.
    â€œWhere did you get that nail polish? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
    Marina laughed, which seemed encouraging. “Yeah, and you’re not likely to.” She waved her ragged nails in front of Kelly’s face for closer inspection. “My father owns an auto-body shop in Tucson. This is 1974 Buick Electra, Avocado Green.”
    â€œIt’s cool. Um, are you sure it’s okay to use that stuff on your nails? They’re pretty porous, you know. The chemicals can get absorbed right into your bloodstream. There’s a great store in the mall where I used to work that has like every nail polish color under the sun. I bet you could find something just like that. Or maybe mix one up.”
    â€œDon’t worry yourself. I’ve already got ink running through my veins.” Marina flashed an elaborately tattooed shoulder. Then she shut her book and picked up her spiked leather bag. “See you around, Katie.”
    Kelly sighed and scooped up her books. In two minutes flat, Marina had reduced her to a dorky, awkward nobody.
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    Kelly sat in the darkened art-history classroom, watching Andrea’s slide show. It wasn’t fair that someone as stylish and together as Andrea was a teacher. Why weren’t there any girls like her in the program? She hoped that Andrea’s smooth voice would soothe her jangled nerves and wounded pride.
    This was one of the few classes in which she felt competent. Statue after statue, all smooth white marble and rippling lines, flickered across the screen. One statue of a young man, in particular, caught Kelly’s eye.
    â€œThis sculpture is one of the best known in the world,” Andrea was saying. “Does anyone know its name?”
    Kelly raised her hand. “It’s Michelangelo’s David .”
    â€œExactly,” Andrea said. “Thank you, Kelly.”
    â€œA lot of people recognize the statue,” Andrea continued. “But very few recognize its unusual proportions.” Andrea pointed to the slide. “Look closely at the slide. What do you see?”
    Kelly stared at the picture, scanning the statue from head to toe, and then as a whole. She spoke hesitantly. “His head and shoulders are bigger than the rest of his body?”
    Andrea smiled. “Good eye, Kelly. Michelangelo designed David to be slightly larger at the top. Art historians have several theories about his motives . . .”
    As Andrea talked, Kelly began sketching in her drawing pad. She drew a quick outline of David ’s body, then started drawing his face, emphasizing his eyes and the curls of his hair. When the lights came back up, she was still drawing away.
    â€œNice technique.” Andrea leaned over her work, studying it carefully. “Do you sketch a lot?”
    Kelly shrugged. “I guess so. I like to copy pictures out of magazines.”
    â€œWell, keep it up. You have a good grasp of composition and layout. I’d love to see more in studio arts.”
    Kelly left the classroom