A Work of Art Read Online Free PDF

her the car keys. Didn’t she know how good she had it?
    â€¢ • •
    I loved the art room. I loved the smell of paint and turpentine and paper. I felt at home there, where every surface of every wall was covered in student art.
    Mr. Stewart didn’t have a class until second period, so I knew he’d be alone that morning. He stopped rummaging in his supply cabinet when he heard me come in.
    â€œHey, Tera.” He studied my face. Cautious. “What’s on your mind?”
    â€œYou left yesterday without taking anything for the magazine.” I held up my painting. “So I brought you Gray Day. It was all I could carry on the bus.”
    â€œOh.” He took a long time closing the supply cabinet door. “About that.”
    â€œYou don’t like it?”
    â€œYou know I do. It’s one of my favorites. It’s just . . .” He took the painting and propped it against the wall. “I don’t know if the article will see print.”
    I’d been looking forward to that article for months. When they interviewed me, I felt like a real artist, someone with a future. Disappointment stabbed me in the gut. “Why not?” I asked.
    â€œWell, because . . .” He frowned.
    â€œBecause of what happened with my dad? The whole thing was a mistake.”
    â€œThat may be, but it’s about perceptions. I doubt the editor would take the risk.”
    â€œBut that’s not fair!”
    â€œIt might be that she’ll postpone the article, just until this thing with your dad gets cleared up.”
    â€œBut did you talk to her? The editor? How would she even know?”
    He scratched his neck. “I thought it best she know all the facts about what she’s getting into.”
    I tasted anger. Like biting down on foil. “The facts? There are no facts. My dad didn’t do anything.”
    â€œI just . . . The editor’s my friend, Tera. I can’t let her publish something that might hurt her magazine.”
    â€œBut that’s stupid! It’s not going to hurt her magazine!”
    â€œWell, you’re probably right, but it’s her decision. If, like you say, it gets cleared up, we can call her. I’ll call her. Tell her it was a mistake. Then I’m sure she’ll go ahead with the article.”
    I lowered my head and clenched my teeth, trying to bite back anger. I couldn’t be angry. I still needed his help.
    â€œDoes that sound fair, Tera?”
    I nodded, swallowed, lifted my chin. “I need to talk to you about something.”
    â€œOkay.” Again that caution.
    â€œYou asked me yesterday if I needed anything.”
    He nodded.
    â€œAnd I need you to go to a bail bondsman. For my dad. You have to be eighteen or I’d do it myself. But I have money to pay his fee—all the money for my apartment in France. And then, once this is cleared up, it’ll be like nothing happened. No trouble to you except going to the bail bondsman.”
    Already, he was shaking his head. “Tera, I’m sorry. You know I can’t do that.”
    â€œBut it’s really easy. I’ll give you the money. The woman on the phone said—”
    â€œNot because of the money, or because it’s too difficult. I can’t get involved in this. It’s not . . .” His eyes searched the room like he was looking for the right word. “Appropriate.”
    Something came between us then, sliding down and rattling shut. We weren’t friends. We weren’t mentor and favorite student. We weren’t anything.
    Heat pulsed from my cheeks. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
    â€œI’m glad you trust me enough to—”
    â€œI have to go. I’ll be late.”
    He didn’t try to stop me.
    â€¢ • •
    I spent most school lunch periods holed up in the girls’ restroom on the second floor. I liked the quiet, the emptiness. I liked how no one could see me eating