Kaleidoscope Read Online Free PDF Page A

tweed jacket there, followed by light thudding as she made her way up the staircase.
    Suddenly, I was impossibly self-conscious of myself and my work. Though my mother was my best, and probably only critic, I'd never been comfortable showing any of my works in progress, fearing that even those closest to me would judge my creative process as wrong, rendering me incapable of ever finishing the damn thing.
    As I contemplated putting it all away in the nick of time, there was a knock on my bedroom door. It slowly swung open, and Mom appeared, looking just a bit haggard from the day as she always did when having to work the weekends. Still, she managed a smile. “Hi sweetie, how was your day?”
    Her eyes flitted across the scene. There I was in my gray-walled bedroom, illuminated only by the fading sun through an open window, and my desk lamp. Sitting cross-legged on my bed with a canvas in my lap, with a plastic cup full of water hovering near a small palette on my night stand nearby, looking confused in a white sweater that was way too large for me and now had specks of orange and red paint on a sleeve that had come unrolled. Her eyes lit up, and she entered my room fully.
    “Jade...are you painting again?” Mom's voice echoed surprise; she almost even sounded hopeful for the future of mine that she was afraid to think of, in case it was a false alarm.
    I sighed. “Well...trying to. It's been a long time. I spent about fifteen minutes just trying to find my acrylics...but uh, I bought some new paintbrushes today, thought I'd give them a try.”
    “It has been a while!” She sat down on the edge of my unmade bed and gazed with admiration at the canvas, still too new and abstract to resemble what I had in my head.
    “I'm no artist, but it seems like you're off to a good start. What is it going to be? Scenery?”
    “It will be actually. Good guess. I uh...I feel so cheesy talking about art. But I wanted to capture fall before all the leaves disappeared.”
    Mom straightened up, folding her hands in her lap. “Well, I think that's just magnificent. I can't wait to see when it's done!” She paused. “You know, there's some painting classes as the rec center down the street, it's one bus stop before the grocery store. I'm sure you've seen it?”
    I nodded, though I had no clue that our town even had a recreation center.
    “Well, I think it might be fun for you to go! I know how much you love to paint, and the classes are cheap...you might meet some friends there, some people that you have something in common with--”
    I snorted. “I don't know about that. Ms. Orowitz might have a fit if I did anything without her watchful gaze...it might interfere with her methods .”
    “Oh, it's just a suggestion!”
    “I don't really like to paint around other people--” I continued to protest. Mom just stood up, patting me on the back as she turned to leave the room.
    “I'm serious, just think about it! It might be good for you. I won't pressure you though, I'm just glad to see you doing something you enjoy.” She prepared to close the door behind her, but peeked her head in once again. “And I hate to interrupt, but I've had a long day today. Want to help me make dinner?”
    I knew better than to pretend her request was anything less than a motherly command. On the weekends, if I wasn't feeling up to helping, my mother's meals ended up turning for the worst, as if all of her pent-up frustrations unleashed themselves within the food, which ended up in turn seeking revenge from the inside out. I nodded and she disappeared down the steps, which squeaked in protest. I began putting my paints away, and I gazed at my canvas.
    Well, it was no Van Gogh, but I guess it could have been worse. “Hopefully I'll actually finish you sometime,” I muttered to it.
     
     
     
     
     

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
     
     
    It had been an uneventful weekend, filled mostly with the struggle between my brushes and canvas to create something with