What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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I'm perusing around the art department while waiting for either Amber to get out of her class or Lashes to ditch her date. I pass by a classroom only to stop when I notice a young Hispanic girl painting.
It's beautiful.
She's doing an oil painting, which takes time and an incredible amount of patience. She's not finished and I can tell by how there are parts where her charcoal sketch shows. The image is stunning even though it's unfinished.
It's a portrait of a cancer patient who's lost all of her hair. Whoever she's painting is very beautiful. With how this young girl is painting her she makes this unknown woman's frailty a strength and part of her loveliness. Elegant and strong is what I get from it, especially how the woman has her palm cupping her chin with her slender fingers delicately touching her cheek.
It's one of hope.
Nothing like mine.
A tinge of jealousy nips at me.
"You're the complete opposite of me."
I make the girl jump and she turns around putting her brushes down. "I'm sorry."
"You're painting it's so hopeful despite the circumstance. I have more of a darker vision and underlying themes in mine. It's refreshing to see."
She smiles. "Thanks. It's my cousin."
"Did she make it?" I ask with no filter.
She pushes some of her coal black hair behind her ear. "Yeah, she's in remission."
"That's great."
Her eyes are tired but not hauntingly exhausted like mine. Hers are clearly worn from working hard. "You should make her lips a soft apple red to accentuate her elegant frailty."
She looks at it then back at me with wide eyes. "That's great advice, thanks. My name's Gabriella." Walking over she offers me her hand to shake but pulls it away once she sees all the paint. "Sorry—"
I stretch out and shake it. "Georgiana Wilkinson. You're talking to a messy finger painter, no worries. You look a lot better than I do when I paint. I have it all over my clothes."
She erupts into a big smile. "Do you go here?I've never seen you before."
"No," I say pointing my finger behind me as if Amber is going to conjure up from out of nowhere. "My twin does and I'm just visiting. I thought I'd check out the art department here and compare it to the art university I went to back in Rhode Island. Needless to say, it's a lot different."
Her eyes widen. "You didn't go to—"
"Yeah." I interrupt with a bitter smile. "I didn't finish though. There were some... circumstances that came up so..." I let my sentence die away.
"But you got in. You went there for finger painting," she asks in awe.
I just nod.
The girl bites her plump lip and I can tell she's contemplating what to say next. Fidgeting with her paintbrush, she says, "I've been wanting to apply there, but I don't think I'm good enough to get accepted so I've been going here."
