At school she was the mystery girl.
The Korean exchange student.
The shy kid who never talked.
The artist. The one with a paintbrush always stuck in her hair.
The girl with the funny name.
That was Min-Ji.
She walked through the school halls to art class, hiding her face behind curtains of glossy black hair, half up with a paintbrush to keep it in place.
Min-Ji always heard what was being said about her, but she didn’t care. She was used to being the outsider. The one that didn’t fit. The odd one out. It still didn’t make it hurt less. The thing was . . . you could only feel like an outsider if you felt what it was like to be an insider.
But it was her favorite class of the day and she wasn’t going to let it be ruined by gossip.
She was usually the first person in the art room, besides the teacher, Ms Ray, but today another girl she’d never seen before stood at Ms Ray’s desk talking with her.
Min-Ji studied the new girl as she set her things down on her usual table in the back of the classroom, next to the back window. She looked about the same age as her but was in crutches and had a boot on her left foot. She was pretty with ringlets of blonde hair and blue-gray eyes hidden by round red wire-framed glasses. Min-Ji had thought she knew everyone in her grade. Not having anyone to talk to gives you a lot of time to observe and listen.
Everything about her screamed ‘I’m friendly!’ and ‘notice me!’ but Min-Ji couldn’t pin-point exactly what it was. Maybe it was the way the girl looked around the room invitingly or didn’t stop smiling even while she talked. Or maybe it was just how colorful everything she wore was. Her pollo shirt was bright red and her one Converse was pink. The hoop earrings that dangled behind her curls of hairs were dripping with beads of all the brightest colors of the world. This girl was different and she wasn’t afraid of it. Min-Ji felt a little twinge of jealousy at the girl’s confidence.
Min-Ji was startled to see that the girl and Ms Ray were making their way over to her table.
The girl smiled as Ms Ray made the introductions, “Min-Ji, this is Tasha. Tasha, Min-Ji will be showing you around the art room this week just until you get the hang of things. She knows this classroom almost better than I do,” the teacher winked.
Min-Ji was surprised to find herself grinning back at Tasha, startled yet pleased at the idea.
“Of course,” Min-Ji replied somewhat shyly.
After Ms Ray had gone back to her desk and Min-Ji had collected the project she was working on, the two girls settled in their seats.
“Okay, first off, I love your hair,” Tasha started to talk so fast, her head spun, “It’s so cute the way you stick that paint brush in there! A big statement. Basically a sign saying ‘I love art!’. Second, totally love your name! Min-Ji. Can I call you Min?” Min-Ji was a bit taken aback but she nodded. No one had ever really talked to her at school, much less given her a nick-name, and now this girl was firing questions at her like they hadn’t met thirty seconds ago.
Min-Ji had never really thought about her paintbrush. Though she loved art–especially watercolor painting–that wasn’t the reason she wore it. It was her Eomma’s (mother’s) and even if she didn’t like to paint she would still wear it.
“What’re you working on?” Tasha asked curiously. “The teacher, Ms Ray–love her too by the way–said I could just sketch or observe you paint. She showed me some of your other pieces and, OMG, they are amazing–totally in awe because they are so cool! And you did them!” Tasha paused, as if only realizing that she hadn’t stopped to take a breath, “Sorry, I know I talk a lot, what are you working on?”
“I don’t mind, and thank you,” Min-Ji said, laughing a little at how different this bright, talkative girl was from shy, little her.
Min-Ji looked at her watercolor paper and the soft lines she had sketched the day before, “It’s a flower trying to bloom in a harsh environment, I’m thinking about some rock shards with ocean waves crashing against them. I’m going to use watercolor and a bit of acrylic paint. But mostly watercolor–it’s my favorite medium.”
Tasha looked thoughtful, “I love it. What’s the symbolism?”
Min-Ji hesitated, a little touched that she’d asked, “In Korea, white flowers stand for hope and a new beginning. I guess . . . It’s mostly wishful thinking but . . . It seems America is full of new beginnings.”
They sat there in silence listening to other chatter around her. Min-Ji realized how much she was enjoying herself. If this kept up, maybe Tasha would eventually become her first American friend.
Throughout the week Min-Ji and Tasha talked and laughed and learned so much about each other. Min-Ji was an open book when Tasha was around and it felt good to confide in another person and know that they had similar feelings.
She learned that Tasha was an amazing person who used to be homeschooled and had four siblings. Tasha told Min-Ji that her mom got a job teaching at the elementary campus of the school and Tasha had jumped in mid-year. Tasha loved volleyball (she said that she had jumped and landed on her foot at a weird angle and that’s why she was in crutches at the moment) and planned to play at the school. She also loved to read and sketch nature (Min-Ji had insisted on seeing and found out she was a beautiful realistic sketcher, especially people).
After almost a full week of still working on her painting, Min-Ji was afraid it wouldn’t be done in time for the art show.
It was a small art show only consisting of art hung from pegboards separated by grade. She still wanted to show her art anyway. If Min-Ji was to leave an impression on this school she wanted it to be for her art.
Two days later Min-Ji was so close to being finished. The show was being set up tomorrow but she had a few problems.
Tasha slid into art class, throwing her backpack beside her chair and sat down, giddy with excitement. The bell rang and Ms Ray told everyone that today was the last day to complete any art for the show.
“Min, Min, Min–I’ve got it!” Tasha almost yelled, “I fixed the problem!” Her cardinal sketch had been set aside and she leaned over the round table, about to explode.
“What problem? Slow down!” Min-Ji tried and failed to calm her friend.
Tasha took a breath, “Okay, Min, you know how we’ve been trying to figure out a name for your painting when we enter it in the show, right?”
“Yes, I suspect you have one?” Min guessed.
“Not one–the one!” Tasha exclaimed ecstatically. She whispered into Min-Ji’s ear.
Min-Ji nodded, impressed, “You're right, that’s the one.”
They smiled at each other.
At the end of class Min submitted her watercolor painting. Two weeks later all the votes had come in and early that morning Min stared at two art pieces.
The first one was Tasha’s. She had gotten 4th place for a sketch of a weeping willow tree over a pond full of lilies and butterflies. Min smiled remembering how much fun that drawing had been for Tasha–she would be pleased.
The second one was her own. Its petals glowed in the painted moonlight, dripping water from the crashing waves on stone. She saw the white, 1st place ribbon hanging at eye-level on the hook. A warm sense of pride washed over Min-Ji.
Under her painting was a printed sticker that read . . .
Min-Ji Yang
8th Grade Art
Watercolor
“Blossoming Hope”
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