To Create is to Captivate

Miss Everdeen

Tom is a bright boy, one of my best students. At five feet two inches and ninety-eight pounds, he is taller and leaner than the other boys in his class. Being bright in the sixth grade is not well received by other middle school boys. They tease Tom, pulling at his too-loose clothing and attempting to touch his head but pretending they can't. Middle schoolers can be cruel, and I've seen it all.

Tom doesn't seem to mind the teasing; he ignores it quite well—better than others might. Being as bright as Tom is, he focuses his energy on projects, one of which is art. Tom is quite the artist for a young boy; his intellect shines through his ability to create enchanting artwork. 

I've seen Tom get lost for hours in his work. It's as if he is in another world and loses himself. He paints the most exquisite details, creating shades and shapes that bring his paintings to life.

Tom gave me a painting for Christmas. It now hangs above my couch on display. I feel happy when I look at the iridescent colors smeared along the canvas, creating a river of light and fields of shadows. So, so happy. One day, Tom's paintings are going to be worth something.

Tom

Miss Everdeen has us working on sculpting today. The other kids in my class turn their clay into differently shaped blobs. I slowly work my clay blob into a round shape, smoothing the edges and using tools to create intricate designs and perfect curves. The clay concaves at the top, folding inwards and growing taller—tall and lean, like me.

I hold up my new sculpture, admiring it, and silently make a wish. 

"Let's see what you've made," Ms. Everdeen, short and plump, nearly the same height as me—though she has me beat—shuffles over to my spot in the classroom. 

She holds up my clay sculpture to the light and shrieks in delight, turning the heads of my classmates. I know Miss Everdeen means well, but I don't like the looks that I'm getting. 

My classmates tease me for how I look, but they also tease me for the attention I get from our teacher. They call me a teacher's pet, but I am not a pet. Pets don't create things; they just sit there and do what their owner says. I do not have an owner, certainly not Miss Everdeen. 

I initially liked Miss Everdeen; she is kind and seems to like me. But over time, with each art project I made, she became more...attached to me. I even gave her a painting I made for Christmas because she liked it so much I was afraid to hold onto it. 

Miss Everdeen

I hold Tom's sculpture up and gasp at the way it reflects light. This boy's creations shine brighter and brighter. Will he let me have this piece, too? 

"Tom, what a lovely sculpture you have made." I continue gazing at the small sculpture, which fits perfectly in my hands. It would go great on my bookshelf, which happens to be next to my painting by Tom. 

I hold onto it longer than I should. "Uhh, Miss Everdeen," Tom taps on my arm, "I still need to paint it." He looks up at me with concern. I hand him back the sculpture. "Oh, of course, Tom. I'm sorry."

I sit back in my chair and think about the spot on my bookshelf where I could place the sculpture, the perfect angle it would sit so that it shines whenever someone walks into my home. 

Where did you get this?

Priceless.

Marissa, you must be an art collector. 

Look at this work!

Is this for sale?

I can hear my friend ogling over the piece, praising my eye. I look back at Tom finishing out the details on the sculpture, narrowing my eyes. I must get this sculpture from Tom.

Tom

I stand back and look at my finished piece. The shimmering silver and swirling blues merge perfectly. I can feel the hum of energy radiating from each piece of art I make, as if it were alive. 

Miss Everdeen is staring at me from across the classroom. Well, she's staring at my sculpture.

The bell rings, and the other kids quickly gather their things and hurry across the classroom and out the door. I wait patiently until everyone else is gone, and then I get up and walk over to Miss Everdeen's desk.

 She watches me intently, following each step I take until I am in front of her. "This is for you." I place the sculpture on the desk. I don't want the other kids to see me and tease me even more about being a teacher's pet, but Miss Everdeen needs this sculpture.

She reaches out and touches the sculpture, gasping with pleasure. I see tears pool in her eyes, and before I can say anything else, Miss Everdeen is standing up and rushing out of the classroom, sculpture in hand.

Miss Everdeen

I must take this to my home now. I can't let anyone take it from me. Tom gave me another piece of his art, and it is all mine. It is so beautiful—it shines in the light, and my breath catches with every new angle. I hold onto it until I get to my house and can safely place it on my bookshelf. It will be safe there.

I slowly step into my home, careful not to drop the sculpture. I find the perfect spot on my shelf and place it there, admiring its beauty. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I hear a knock at the door and make my way, never taking my eyes off the sculpture. 

"Miss Everdeen," it's Principal Davis. I completely forgot about school. He must see the panic in my eyes because he softens. "Why did you leave school in the middle of the day without notice? Is everything all right?" He looks genuinely worried as he pulls my cell phone out of his pocket.

"I don't mean to drop by unannounced, but you left this in the art classroom, and then you didn't show up to fifth period, so I started to worry." He looks behind me into the house as if searching for something. 

He's here to take my sculpture. Panic grips me, and I know I must protect it.

"It's mine!" I hiss at him. Principal Davis looks startled at my outburst and takes a step towards me in a friendly gesture. 

What a trickster, Principal Davis. You can't fool me.

I leap for my sculpture, wrapping it in my arms tightly. No one can take this away from me. 

"Get out!" I hunch my body over the piece to protect it from thieving hands. "You can't take it from me!"

Principal Davis's look of worry turns to fear as he slowly steps back out of the house. I free one arm and slam the door shut in his face, locking the deadbolt. 

I place the sculpture back on the shelf and stroke it gently. I must protect it from thieves at all costs. With the curtains closed and the lights turned off, I pull my chair towards the shelf and sit in the darkness, waiting for the other thieves, ready to defend my precious sculpture.

Tom

It takes another teacher twenty minutes to realize we are alone in our classroom. The other kids are playing games in one corner of the room, a card game I am not familiar with. In the back right corner, Tiffany G. holds hands with Isaac— the coolest kid in class — while twirling her hair with her other hand. I'm pretty sure they are going to start making out soon.

Fifth period comes and goes, and there is no sign of Miss Everdeen. 

Mr. Grouch, a suiting last name, has taken over for the rest of the day. After finding us in a wild state, we have all been punished to sit in silence, copying down the words on the board repeatedly. 

We spend the rest of the day like this. The other kids in class break the silence with murmurs of what happened to Miss Everdeen. 

I bet she fell in the toilet.

Do you think she had a heart attack?

She is probably just over it and has decided to quit.

The rumors circle the classroom, and I refrain from joining them. "Quiet!" Mr. Grouch shouts at us. I don't like Mr. Grouch, but maybe I can help him.

When the last bell of the day rings, everyone gathers their backpacks and rushes out the door, excited to escape Mr. Grouch's incessant bickering. But I wait.

Mr. Grouch

Finally, I already have so much on my plate, and Miss Everdeen decided to up and leave in the middle of the school day, leaving the children to be dealt with by me. She didn't even have the decency to let us know. I don't care if there's an emergency; it is no excuse to leave children unattended. 

These children are particularly bad. I found them trashing the room, and when I opened the door, a paper ball smacked me in the face!

I normally refuse to teach anything but the honors classes, but as my usual students are on a field trip with their science teacher today, I have been left to watch over these rapscallions. Until now, that is. Sweet freedom.

I am gathering my items from Miss Everdeen's desk when I notice a young boy still sitting. 

"The bell rang, boy." I peer over my glasses at him. He gets up and holds his backpack at his side. Instead of leaving, he walks over to where I am seated at the desk. 

"I wanted to give you something," The boy stares at me, "as a thank you for taking over today." Hmm. Finally, a child with manners. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small sculpture. Immediately, my eyes focus on the small thing. It's shaped like a beast, fitting perfectly in my palm. The beast is painted black with gold streams swirling throughout.  I feel my breath catch and my heart lighten. 

"Thank you, uhh," 

"Tom." He tells me.

"Yes, Tom. Well, thank you. You should get going now."

I pocket the tiny beast, but I can't seem to pull away my hand. The item draws me in, humming with an energy I cannot escape.

Tom is heading out the door, but he stops and turns his head slightly. Before he continues out the exit, I see the corner of his mouth twitch into a sideways grin.