The Clique by Lisi Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

“So if you would please just grab that seat by the window, I would greatly appreciate it.”
    The vacancy was beside Alicia, whose vintage suede blazer was already on the free chair to ward off newcomers.
    “This isn’t the changing parlor at Saks, Ms. Rivera,” Vincent said. He batted the air with the side of his hand like he was shooing away a mosquito.
    Claire slowly made her way through the maze of easels and stools, scanning the room to see if maybe there was another seat she could claim. Alicia shook her head forebodingly, hoping to prevent Claire from coming any closer. All Claire could do was shrug and hope Alicia understood that she had no choice.
    Alicia’s manicured index finger pointed at the empty space in front of Vincent’s desk, but it was too late.
    “Claire, I’ve seen paint dry faster,” Vincent said. “Chop chop.”
    He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head like he was about to toss out another zinger. But the door burst open and his attention was diverted.
    The entire class turned to look at the source of the latest interruption while Claire used the opportunity to settle into her seat.
    Kristen stood in front of the room, panting like a dog. Her hair was halfway out of her ponytail and she looked frazzled.
    “Sorry, Vincent, I was in the bathroom,” Kristen said.
    “Another tardy, Ms. Gregory, and I will personally hack off that precious blond hair of yours and have it spun into paintbrushes.”
    Claire was the only one who laughed openly at his threat. Vincent’s narrow, pointy face softened when he heard her giggle, and the twinkle in his eye suggested that he was thankful one of his students finally got his sense of humor.
    Kristen twisted the loose strands of hair around her finger. She shot Alicia a confused look.
    “Where’s my seat?” Kristen mouthed.
    Alicia tilted her head in Vincent’s direction and signaled with her arms that there was nothing she could do about Claire.
    “Looks like the only space left is this one,” Vincent said, patting the top of the empty stool in front of his desk. His gold pinky ring made a loud tapping sound every time it hit the wooden seat.
    Claire scanned every one of her fingernails looking for something to bite, but she had nothing left.
    Vincent pulled an egg timer out of his side pocket and set the dial for fifteen minutes. Then he sashayed over to the podium in the middle of the room and grasped the corner of the sheet that covered it. With a quick flick of the wrist he whisked it away, revealing three bright red tomatoes in a bowl.
    “You have exactly fifteen minutes to paint a still life called
Ripe Vine Tomatoes,
” he explained. “Now begin.”
    The room was quiet except for the occasional sound of brushes swishing around in water and getting knocked against the sides of cleaning dishes.
    Vincent paced up and down the aisles, eyeing everyone’s work with the intense scrutiny of an art critic. His ticking egg timer reminded Claire of Captain Hook from
Peter Pan
. She found it hard to focus.
    She figured Alicia was distracted too because she was looking around the room nervously. While Vincent commented on someone’s “erratic brushstrokes,” Alicia turned toward Claire’s desk.
    “Can I borrow some of your red? Mine’s a little clumpy,” she said.
    “Sure,” Claire said.
    Alicia leaned over and dunked her brush. She lost her balance on the way up and was forced to grab on to Claire so she wouldn’t fall down.
    “Sorry about that.” Alicia looked slightly embarrassed.
    “Are you okay?” Claire asked.
    “Yeah, thanks,” Alicia said.
    “Problem, ladies?” Vincent asked.
    “No,” they answered in unison.
    Claire returned to her still life.
    “Four minutes left,” Vincent announced.
    Alicia burst out laughing.
    “Did I miss something funny on
Leno
last night, Ms. Rivera?” Vincent asked.
    “No, Vincent, sorry. I think the smell of the paint is starting to get to me. Maybe I should sit down for a