Sequel: Postcards From... ›
Status: Re-written
The Club Is Open Until 8:00Pm
Trente Six
Monet's POV
Monet hates art. Art hate Monet. It's a hate-hate relationship. How about this: Art teacher is unfair. Why? 3 words:
Monet got Monet
Confused. Don't blame you. Let's try this: The art room looks like a church as in there's a row of tables in this side and a row on that side. A strip of painted carpet in the middle that comes to a halting stop when It means Mr. Spearman's desk. I don't go to church. I don't wanna go to art half the time.
Mr. Spearman walks down the aisles, or as was students call it, the "No Artist's Land" carrying a stack of books. I sit at the second table on the right. Mr. Spearman clears his throat. "Each of you is going to research a master." That's what he calls them. "The Masters." They didn't have names anymore. "Then you'll recreate one of their masterpieces." I rolled my eyes and the class groaned.
He started handing out the books: Josh got Kahlo, McKenzie got Renior, Kathy got Pollack, Jaime got Hitler(he was really excited about that too), Majesta got Picasso, Liz got Morisot, Scottie got O'keeffe, Bret got Dali, Teri got Van Gogh, Her twin Terry(what were their parents thinking) got Manet, and Lastly, Monet got Monet.
...
The bell rang, and as the students shuffled out, I went to the whiteboard where Mr. Spearman was writing. "Can I have someone else?" I asked. He turned around. He didn't expect anyone to reject his choice. "Why do you want someone else?" He asked back. I didn't answer. Just something about having the same name with this person bugged me. Like, I wasn't ever gonna live up to the status of this name. When people thought Monet, they thought: Talented artist, beautiful work, a genius on canvas. They didn't think of a screwed up ninth-grader with blue hair. I just showed him the title of the book. Monet
He scanned the cover. "What's wrong with Monet?" I didn't know if he was asking me what was wrong or what I disliked about my artist. "I don't like his name." I said. I figured it was the only safe answer. "I'm sorry, Monet, but you've got bigger issues that just passing this class if that's the case." Why couldn't they have named me like, Alyssa or something simple like that. I don't think I'd have as many self-esteem issues as I have now.
August was waiting for me at my locker. "You guys are performing tonight, right?" She asked, walking beside me down the hall. "Yeah, Amy's band canceled so we were asked." I explained. "Cool. So I'll definitely be there cause dad said I needed to lounging around the house." I nodded. "Sweet. I just hope my throat won't kill me like it did last time." It had been bothering me a lot lately especially when I sung.
Monet hates art. Art hate Monet. It's a hate-hate relationship. How about this: Art teacher is unfair. Why? 3 words:
Monet got Monet
Confused. Don't blame you. Let's try this: The art room looks like a church as in there's a row of tables in this side and a row on that side. A strip of painted carpet in the middle that comes to a halting stop when It means Mr. Spearman's desk. I don't go to church. I don't wanna go to art half the time.
Mr. Spearman walks down the aisles, or as was students call it, the "No Artist's Land" carrying a stack of books. I sit at the second table on the right. Mr. Spearman clears his throat. "Each of you is going to research a master." That's what he calls them. "The Masters." They didn't have names anymore. "Then you'll recreate one of their masterpieces." I rolled my eyes and the class groaned.
He started handing out the books: Josh got Kahlo, McKenzie got Renior, Kathy got Pollack, Jaime got Hitler(he was really excited about that too), Majesta got Picasso, Liz got Morisot, Scottie got O'keeffe, Bret got Dali, Teri got Van Gogh, Her twin Terry(what were their parents thinking) got Manet, and Lastly, Monet got Monet.
...
The bell rang, and as the students shuffled out, I went to the whiteboard where Mr. Spearman was writing. "Can I have someone else?" I asked. He turned around. He didn't expect anyone to reject his choice. "Why do you want someone else?" He asked back. I didn't answer. Just something about having the same name with this person bugged me. Like, I wasn't ever gonna live up to the status of this name. When people thought Monet, they thought: Talented artist, beautiful work, a genius on canvas. They didn't think of a screwed up ninth-grader with blue hair. I just showed him the title of the book. Monet
He scanned the cover. "What's wrong with Monet?" I didn't know if he was asking me what was wrong or what I disliked about my artist. "I don't like his name." I said. I figured it was the only safe answer. "I'm sorry, Monet, but you've got bigger issues that just passing this class if that's the case." Why couldn't they have named me like, Alyssa or something simple like that. I don't think I'd have as many self-esteem issues as I have now.
August was waiting for me at my locker. "You guys are performing tonight, right?" She asked, walking beside me down the hall. "Yeah, Amy's band canceled so we were asked." I explained. "Cool. So I'll definitely be there cause dad said I needed to lounging around the house." I nodded. "Sweet. I just hope my throat won't kill me like it did last time." It had been bothering me a lot lately especially when I sung.