Art Class

Victoria heads into class slowly, treading her feet as if she were walking to her own execution. It wouldn't have been a far off metaphor as she has never been artistic; being more practical than most. She was fully expecting to get a B if not an A- in this class, ruining her perfect A average.

She enters the classroom and gets hit by an image of hastily placed art posters and messy paint splatters adorning the walls. The desks were a disorganized mess, some missing chairs and even the table top. She nearly had a hear attack. She cursed her stupid low budget school and chose a seat front and center.

She looked around and found mostly slackers and weirdos in her class, as expected. Art was a last resort class, only taken by those who need to make up quick and easy credits, fill their schedule, or are desperate to meet their graduation requirements.

The bell rang, and from a room Victoria had previously assumed was a closet, emerged an ancient woman with the thickest spectacles she has ever seen. And this is where hope sunk in, perhaps this woman wouldn't be able to see her art clearly and mistake it for a more abstract interpretation.

Ten minutes later, roll call was completed. Half the class had not shown up, probably in the bathrooms having a quickie with their significant (or not so significant) others or smoking pot behind the dumpsters. Victoria cursed the underpaid and lazy staff members.

"Okay class, today we are going to do blind contour drawings," the old woman droned. She was about to continue when she was interrupted by a late student. In walked a guy, no man, in all his Asian glory. Victoria was charmed. His name was Leon; she had him in some of her other classes. Victoria admired the way he would present his arguments because they were all so logical. She couldn't help but side with him.

Their eyes met, he gave her a smile and headed over to sit with her. Victoria nearly fainted.