A Work of Art Read Online Free PDF Page A

something like this. So who did that leave?
    As much as I dreaded asking him, Mr. Stewart seemed like the only choice. I’d spent the last four years of high school trying to impress him, and the last year bragging to him about my dad’s success. So asking him to bail out my dad from jail would have to rank in my top two most humiliating experiences—right behind him seeing my dad get arrested.
    I told myself that now wasn’t the time to be proud.
    â€¢ • •
    When I left for school the next morning, the air outside was thick with the odor of mud and earthworms. I waited at the top of my driveway for the bus, staying out from under the trees so the leaves wouldn’t drip on the painting I carried. Mr. Stewart left yesterday without taking any of my artwork for the magazine. Bringing him one of my paintings gave me the perfect excuse to talk to him about my dad.
    I peeked under the drop cloth I’d thrown over my painting and let myself imagine, just for a second, how it would look on the pages of ArtWorld . I had painted it a few months ago, an impressionist-style piece called Gray Day. It showed a girl at a playground on a rainy day, her coat unbuttoned, her hair wet and straggly. All around her, kids in rain boots and raincoats laughed and chased each other, but she stood in the shadow of a towering metal slide, gazing at her own warped reflection in the mud puddle at her feet.
    I covered the canvas again when I heard Haley and her mom leaving their house. I looked across the street. Mrs. Sweeney was digging in her purse, but Haley waved to me and smiled. Like we were still best friends. Like she hadn’t told me back in fifth grade to get away from her and stop following her around.
    Haley left her mom to wait by their Audi and hurried over to me, her long hair billowing. I looked up the street, hoping to see the bus rounding the corner. No such luck. I braced myself.
    â€œAre you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide with fake concern. “I saw the police here yesterday.”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œWell, what happened? With your dad?”
    I knew she’d ask. I knew what to say. “It was a mistake.” I shrugged. “He’s coming home this afternoon.”
    â€œA mistake? You mean, they arrested the wrong person?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Still no bus in sight. “I’ll find out more today.”
    â€œBut what’d they arrest him for?”
    The sun rose above the rooftops. I had to squint to see her. “Drugs,” I said.
    â€œYour dad’s a druggie?”
    â€œI didn’t say that. I said it was a mistake.”
    She pursed her lips together. A prissy smile. “I guess it could have been worse.”
    What did she mean by that? Did she know what they were accusing him of?
    â€œHaley!” Mrs. Sweeney called. “Time to go!”
    â€œJust a minute! I’m talking!”
    I smiled at Mrs. Sweeney. To let her know how everything was fine and normal at the Waters household. She didn’t smile back.
    Haley smoothed her hair from her forehead. “If you ever want to talk . . .”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “I know where you live.”
    â€œSeriously, Tera.”
    â€œYeah, okay.” As if I’d really open up to her, after the way she ended our friendship.
    â€œHaley, come on!” Her mom again. “You’re making me late!”
    Haley rolled her eyes. “I have to go. Good luck with your dad.”
    I hugged my painting to my chest and watched her jog across the street to her mom. Mrs. Sweeney looked pissed. She said something I couldn’t hear.
    But Haley’s voice was loud. “I’m not bothering her,” she said. “I’m allowed to talk to her. And you’re always nagging me for . . .” The roar of the bus engine drowned out the rest of her words. Her hands sliced the air as she talked.
    Haley was still complaining when her mom passed