Portrait of Us by A. Destiny Read Free Book Online

How did she know who I was?
    Duh, Corinne, I chastised myself. Teni had said my name out loud when announcing the results on Monday. Unlike me, this girl probably paid better attention to those details.
    â€œHi,” I whispered back.
    â€œI just wanted to tell you I really like your piece.” She nodded toward my mosaic. “I’ve never tried to do that before, but you’re inspiring me to pick that medium for my next project.”
    My heart gave a strange twist. “Thank you.” I stepped back to her station so I could see what she was doing.
    My breath caught in my lungs. The image was already stunning, and she was still in the drawing phase. She’d sketched Teni standing near a window, light playing along the planes of her face. There was a faint hint of a wistful smile as she stared outside.
    â€œThat’s beautiful,” I said.
    â€œOh, thanks. I couldn’t resist when I saw her standing there. I grabbed my phone and took a picture so I could capture the moment.” She pointed down to her phone sitting on the table. The exact same image was right there.
    I had to admit, I was jealous. Why hadn’t she gotten picked for the competition? She clearly outshined me with talent.
    â€œI’m Janice, by the way,” she said, offering a smile.
    â€œWhere do you go to school?”
    â€œI just graduated from Parma High School. Heading to Baldwin Wallace in the fall. I plan to major in art history.”
    â€œThat sounds great.” I had no idea what I was going to do in college, though my parents were already subtly nudging me on the subject. I cleared my throat, an awkward sensation lodged in my gut. After seeing her art, I felt like she’d gotten cheated.
    â€œAre you excited about the competition?” she asked, no hint of negativity in her tone at all.
    â€œOh, I . . . I’m nervous,” I admitted.
    â€œYeah, I don’t do well in those kinds of situations. I don’t thrive under pressure. That’s why I didn’t even enter.”
    Ah. Okay.
    Before I could process it, she continued. “Plus, after seeing the works of people in here—like you, for example—I knew I wasn’t ready.”
    I blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
    She laughed, a light, tinkling sound, and began packing away her pencils in a box. “It’s been my experience so far that the artists with the most talent often don’t see it. Teni knew what she was doing when she picked you. I can’t wait to see the piece you two create.”
    My gaze slid over to Matthew unbidden, and a warm flushworked its way up my throat. Why was I letting him get to me? Why couldn’t I just shut off this strange feeling I got whenever I thought of him?
    â€œWell, I wish you guys luck,” she continued. “It’s going to be quite a challenge, blending your two art styles into one cohesive piece. But I have a feeling when it’s done, you will knock everyone’s socks off.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, gave me a parting nod, then walked out the door.
    I stared at her piece for another long moment. Her style was a lot closer to mine than to Matthew’s—she’d taken great pains to capture true perspective, the nuances and angles of Teni’s figure, the light and dark. But there was a rawness in her sketch lines that showed me she wasn’t as concerned with clean edges as I was. I could see where she’d corrected her lines without erasing the old ones. She didn’t have that compulsion for perfection.
    And yet, her piece came to life and would only continue to grow in beauty as she finished it. Interesting.
    I filed that nugget away and headed to the front of the room, where Teni perched against a table along the wall. Matthew came up right behind me, and I swear I could feel the warmth pouring from his body into mine. I took a small step forward to get out of that mode of hyperawareness.