Guilt by Leen Elle Read Free Book Online Page A

imagination that she knew swirled around inside her head. She expected the critiques for each drawing to commend her interpretations on the poem, story excerpt and newspaper article. What she sought was approval for the work of her hand more than for the use of her mind.
    When the drawings were set down in front of her she reached for them with eager hands. Her enthusiasm for the critiques led to swift and severe disappointment. The letter grade she received was an A minus, but Mr. Dart never seemed to score lower than that, so the importance of the grade meant nothing. What struck her so hard were the man's comments on each work. He seemed to think very little of her imagination.
    The pastel, which was meant to be a self-portrait as she sailed along the river of life, was called cliché. The colored pencil piece had been declared an easy way out of the assignment as she created "a rather general looking farm that didn't really touch on the personal feelings that the excerpt
should
have evoked" (she wondered if Corry had received the same statement for his similar theme). The comment on the last work disappointed her most of all. The happy ending that she imagined for the missing girl was dismissed as being a way of refusing to address a troublesome topic because she couldn't cope with its sadness. It basically told her that she skirted around unpleasantness, which underscored her naivety of the world.
    She tried not to take it personally like Mr. Dart asked his students not to, but the critique struck her on a level that she never comprehended she'd be assessed on. She found herself questioning the depth of her mind. Did she limit her own imagination, create her own psychological boundaries, because she didn't want to explore her feelings? This young woman who yearned to get out of Brickerton, knowing there was a bigger world she wanted to see, couldn't comprehend that this world wasn't always pretty and happy and easy going? Was she really that naïve?
    In the midst of her quandary Claire became aware of something Corry was doing. He had begun to crumple his own artwork within his clenched fists. Without considering, she reacted, grabbing his forearm to stay his hand. He looked up, startled, and Claire realized that she made physical contact with her classmate. She felt awkward about it, and pulled her hand back.
    Corry's face slowly went from startled back to its previous expression. He looked disturbed and couldn't hide his perturbation. His critiques must have disappointed him as much as Claire's had upset her. Having become familiar with him over the last few weeks, she felt compelled to speak. Maybe they could rectify their disappointment by realizing that they both received the same harsh criticism.
    "Don't worry about what he wrote," she said. "His opinion isn't everything." Too bad she had a difficult time following her own advice, because she knew that the art teacher's opinion did mean a great deal to her.
    Instead of the understanding smile that she was expecting to get in reply, Corry looked pained and averted his face. "It's not what he wrote." He replied after a moment. "I just don't want this picture." His hand began to clamp around the corners of the paper again, ready to crumple it further.
    "Wait," Claire cried under her breath. That got the Freak's attention, and he observed the interaction with amusement. "Don't do that. You're artwork is great. You can't get rid of it."
    "It's not worth keeping." He took a breath, wanting to continue to destroy the art, but feeling unsure now in front of Claire.
    "Boo hoo," the Freak began a fake pout.
    "Shut up," Claire snarled at him. The Freak raised his eye brows in surprise, and said nothing more. When she looked back at Corry, she saw his jaw clenching and his lip curling up in disgust, but he didn't look at the Freak. He just stared at his drawing.
    "Well, if you don't want it, I'll take it." Claire said.
    Corry looked confused. He didn't understand Claire's