Art & Soul (5 page)

T
he only thing
I looked forward to during the school day was eighth hour. Eighth hour was my favorite, not only because it was the last period, but also because it was art class with Mr. Harper.

Mr. Harper and I had known each other since I stepped into his Introduction to Art class my freshman year. He was a skinny, pipe smoking, mustache wearing, sixty-two-year-old gay man who always attributed his love for art to a love affair he had with Leonardo da Vinci. Sure, the love affair might have been nothing more than an awesome acid trip that he’d experienced, seeing as how Leonardo da Vinci died four hundred and thirty-three years before Mr. Harper was born, but it was a love story for the ages the way my favorite teacher told it.

The class I was currently taking was an exploration class where the main goal was to discover a new way to look at art as a whole. Our classroom was set up differently than all of the other rooms in the building. Our desks were turned inward in a semicircle and there were at least fifteen extra chairs in the room. At the opening of the circle was a big chalkboard.

Mr. Harper scribbled the words
Partner Exploration
across the board.

“Shout out what you think of when you think of exploring. Ready? Go!” Mr. Harper said, holding his chalk in his hands.

The class started shouting out random words at the highest volume they could.

“Jungle!”

“Christopher Columbus!”

“Jet skis!”

“
Sex
!”

Mr. Harper wrote all of the words on the board and placed ‘sex’ in the biggest letters. He was never moved by any teenage antics, only taking them as a learning experience. “Ah! And words that you think of when you hear the word partner? Go!”

“Sex!”

“Sex!”

“
Sexual intercourse
!”

All of the words dealing with sex came from Connor, the most perverted junior in our class who was always talking about sex or making sexual expressions with his tongue. I was certain that he had a small penis and never had sex or something because a person who talked
that
much about sex was clearly compensating for something.

“Team,” I whispered softly, almost voicelessly. Mr. Harper’s eyes moved to me, and he smiled wide. I knew teachers weren’t allowed to say they had favorites, but it was a given that I was pretty high on Mr. Harper’s list.

In the biggest letters yet he wrote ‘team’.

“For the semester I am going to pair you up with a partner. You are going to explore the realms of art, taking both of your personalities and creating a final piece of work that showcases two worlds colliding into one. You will learn their likes, their dislikes, their dreams, wishes, and biggest fears. You should learn anything and everything you can think of about your partner.” He picked up the chalk eraser and began wiping away the words involving any form of sex. “But unfortunately you will not be allowed to have sex with your partner.”

Connor complained, stating that sex was the only non-boring thing about the class.

Mr. Harper kept clearing the board and said dryly, “Don’t be dramatic Connor. No one was planning on sleeping with you anyway.” The class erupted in laughter. Everyone was enjoying Mr. Harper’s humor as always. Well, everyone except me.

My eyes were darting around the room to try to figure out who I would be partners with. The one problem with team projects was the idea of working in a team. The worst feeling in the world was looking around a classroom and realizing that you knew everyone, yet at the same time you knew no one at all.

“Don’t act like I don’t see you all panicking and searching for who you will be paired with. Your partners aren’t here.” Mr. Harper held up a finger, silencing our questioning minds before leaving the room.

Connor huffed. “If he’s not back in two minutes, I’m out!”

No one cares, Connor. By all means, leave.

At a minute and fifty seconds Mr. Harper came back with Ms. Jameson only a few steps behind her. She was the music teacher who laughed too loud and had a beard that was too noticeable. One would think she would’ve shaved it by now seeing as how she taught at a high school with some of the most brutal bullies in the history of bullies, but I guessed she loved herself the way she was.

Behind Ms. Jameson came her classroom of students holding instruments. My cheeks flushed when I saw Levi walking in with a violin by his side.

I shifted my stare to the ground and tried to pretend I didn’t notice him.

I peeked up.

He smiled at me.

I didn’t smile back.

“Art,” Mr. Harper gestured toward our class and then in the direction of Ms. Jameson’s class, “meet soul.” He went on to explain how three days a week we would meet up with our music partners and work on our creative piece, but I’d stopped listening almost immediately. I tried my best not to notice that he was walking toward me. I tried my best not to notice that the seat beside me was empty. I tried my best to hope I ended up partners with Ellie Graze who talked too much and played the flute.

“Hi, Aria,” Levi said, taking the seat beside me. I’d never heard my name spoken so much in one day. Perhaps he had a strange addiction to the letters a-r-i-a. “I guess this is a sign, huh? You’ve been so ubiquitous since I met you.”

“What?” I blinked, glancing around at the rest of my class being partnered up. “What does ubiquitous mean?”

“It was my word of the day this morning. It means being everywhere. Very timely. The universe is obviously shoving us together and screaming, ‘Hey! Get to know each other!’”

“I don’t think it’s anything like that,” I argued. “It’s more of a coincidence. Having one class with someone is pretty common. Don’t look too much into it.” The look of pleasure on his face was showing me that he was indeed thinking too deeply on the subject. “
Really
,” I sighed. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“
Smiling
.”

It had to be painful the amount of time he spent smiling.

“I’ll stop smiling the moment you stop frowning. We can switch expressions.”

“I’m not—” Pausing, I noticed how tight my lips were. Wiggling my mouth around, I loosened my face up and gave him a small, fake grin. “Better?”

His lips pouted out and nodded with the saddest look ever. “Much better.” He placed his violin in his lap.

“So the rumors are true?” I asked.

“Rumors? What rumors?”

“That you’re from the South—though I doubt it’s Brazil—and that you’re a word wizard.” I considered mentioning his tattooed private parts, but that seemed like crossing a line for what was only our second conversation. I’d save it for our third.

“I
am
from the South
,
but not Rio, and I
do
like words, but a word wizard? I don’t know about that seeing how I haven’t been placed in my Hogwarts house yet. Fingers crossed for Gryffindor.”

“You seem more like a Slytherin.”

“That doesn’t mean much to me coming from a Hufflepuff.”

I smiled, because Harry Potter references always brought out smiles.

“What other rumors are there?” he asked.

“Well, there was the threesome you had in the locker room with Jessica Bricks and Monica Lawrence during third hour.”

“Oh well, obviously that’s not a lie. It was an amazing threesome with name calling, hair pulling, and everything intense. I’m surprised you haven’t heard my nickname yet.”

“And what’s that?”

“Mr. Wild.”

Bull crap.

“All right, Mr. Wild. What hair color do Jessica and Monica have?” I asked, knowing that he was lying.

“Platinum blonde, duh.”

“That was a lucky guess. Most of the girls here have platinum blonde hair.”

“And blue eyes.”

“Yup, perfect little Barbie dolls with perfectly big checkbooks.”

“Except for you,” he said. “You’re different.” He didn’t say anything else.

The palms of my hands grew sweaty, and I straightened up in my chair. His eyes stayed zoned in on me, and I was shocked by how comfortable I was with our silence. At the same time I was extremely uncomfortable with our silence. How could I be both things at once? I bounced my right knee and bit into my bottom lip nervously. “So you play the violin?” I asked.

“I do.”

“Are you any good?”

“Psh. Is Jascha Heifetz one of the greatest violinists to ever exist?” My blank stare met his shocked expression. “The answer is yes. Yes, I am good. And yes, Jascha Heifetz is one of the greatest violinists to ever exist. God. What do they teach you people at this school?”

“Not the top violinists, that’s for sure.”

“Well, it’s a shame because Heifetz…he played the violin like he was fighting for his life, as if he would cease to exist if it weren’t for the music he performed. The strings screamed and cried and cheered and laughed all at once.”

I wasn’t ready to admit it, or show it, but Levi made me smile. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. “Your personality is the complete opposite of your looks.”

“I know that my personality is outstanding, so I’ll go ahead and pretend that you didn’t just call me ugly.”

I snickered.

“Oh! She laughs, too!” He smirked.

Connor walked behind us and leaned in toward Levi. “Warning, warning, oddity sighting, oddity sighting. Save yourself.”

Levi gave Connor a laugh, but it wasn’t real. It was more one of those I’m-going-to-laugh-uncomfortably-so-you’ll-leave-me-the-fuck-alone kinds of chuckles.

“Friend of yours?” I questioned.

“Can’t you tell? We’re the best of buds,” he sarcastically remarked.

“Maybe you can give him some tips on growing facial hair. He’s been grooming that one chin hair for the past four years.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, turning back to me. “It’s two, by the way.”

“What’s two? Two chin hairs?”

“No, I couldn’t really care less about Connor’s lack of hair dilemma. But you said it was just a coincidence that we had one class together, but we have two. You’re in my calculus class, too, but you never looked up to notice me.”

“So you noticed?” I asked.

“Noticed what?”

“Noticed me not noticing you?”

He laughed. “Touché.”

The teachers handed out sheets we were supposed to fill out in order to ‘get to know each other’. The sheets were filled with basic questions like what’s your favorite food, favorite music artist, favorite sport, are you in a relationship.

I blinked once. I looked up at Levi, and then back at the fact sheet. It didn’t say anything about a relationship, so it had either been in my head, or Levi had asked. “What?”

“I said do you have a boyfriend?”

“That’s not one of the questions on the sheet.”

“Aren’t we allowed to deviate from the list?” he asked.

“No.”

“I think we are.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Levi raised his hand, and Mr. Harper called on him; I cringed. “Yes, boy with the violin?”

“Are we allowed to add our own questions to the fact sheet, teacher with the impressive mustache?” Levi asked, his Southern voice really showing up within his question.

Mr. Harper curled the ends of his mustache with his fingers. “I welcome creative partner exploration.”

“Minus the sex,” Connor chimed in, annoyance in his voice. “This class blows.”

“Nice word choice, Connor. Your saxophone partner can look forward to in-depth conversations about life, politics, and human intelligence with you, I’m sure.” Mr. Harper smirked before walking over to Levi and me. “Where are you from, boy with the violin? I hear the accent.”

“Alabama, teacher with the impressive mustache.”

Levi was able to effortlessly slide into comfortable banter with anyone. He made it seem so charming, too.

“Ah! I met my Leonardo in Alabama many moons ago. Remind me to tell you the story of my da Vinci one day.” Mr. Harper walked off, humming to himself and twirling his mustache in a daze of false memories.

“So…boyfriend?” Levi turned back to me, giving me his full attention.

He wasn’t going to give up, so I gave in. “No boyfriend.”

“The guy with the red hair is just…?”

“A best friend.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to step on the red-haired guy’s toes. It’s against the rules, ya know? Taking another man’s girl.”

I laughed. “What makes you think I’m available for the taking?”

He ran his hand against his jaw line. “I don’t, really. Just hopin’.”

“Why me? You have girls throwing themselves at you. Plus, people like
you
don’t like people like
me
.”

“People like
me
?” He leaned in closer to me. “You mean
Southern
? Because I was totally kidding when I said the South shall rise again earlier in the hallway to that girl. I’m as Northern as one person could get. I think tater tot casserole is outstanding. The Packers are probably one of the best teams in the NFL. Also, cheese is delicious. Gouda, provolone, sharp cheddar—you name it, I’ll eat it, and I’ll love every bite.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so weird.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just stared at me, his eyes and lips forming the kindest of smiles. I shifted around in my chair. I was uncomfortable with the way he watched me as if he saw into me. I preferred being the ghost of the school. His lips stretched wider as he placed his forearms on the table and clasped his hands together. His chin rested against his hands.

“For the record,” he spoke softly, “people like
me
find people like
you
refreshing.”

I placed my pencil on my table and blinked once. Then I proceeded to stare at my feet the rest of the class period. But the whole time I thought about his chocolate eyes.

A
s the final
bell of the day rang, Levi insisted on walking me to my locker, even though I told him it was unnecessary. He disagreed, leaving us arguing until we both arrived at the hallway my locker was located in.

“By the way, I didn’t really have a threesome in the locker room,” he joked, but I couldn’t respond.