Artfully Fiendish

Both arrived at the twisted metal school. Bellona towered over Briar. The mere inches of height she had on Briar were exaggerated by the stairs and her heels. Briar sat defeated and lost on her luggage. Her parents had dropped her off with cab fare and no fond farewells.  Staying until summer at the Hendsbee Academy for Advanced Artists, friendless and destined to wilt under the eyes of students and teachers more talented than herself, seemed a fate worse than death.

Bellona kicked her luggage, startling her from her defeated trance. 

“You didn’t hear me. I’ve never been this far out of the city. Show me around?”

Sun glaring, Briar squinted her eyes to see Bellona.

“I don’t know… I’m from Maine. I’m lost”. Briar seemed to squeak out the last word. 

“A map will fix that. Grab your stuff and we’ll go get one”.

“Are you sure?”

Bellona looked back at her sharply but not unkindly, “Isn’t that what I said?”

Briar grabbed both suitcases and ran to meet Bellona.

---Present Day---

Both girls are the last in the gallery. Briar was hiding in the bathroom, shielding herself more from the praise than the criticism. Bellona wanted the praise. 

Bellona stands centered in front of her painting. Briar knows she must be checking for dust. It’s always dust. Bellona will say what she didn’t put on the canvas can’t be there. Briar doesn’t speak, just goes to her side. 

“Of course it’s good, but is it a vision? If my work could be considered a vision what would that make me?”

Briar answers quickly,”A visionary”.

With a closed mouth Bellona smiles, “Yes I think so”.

“Well I think you are, but of course you know that. And of course everyone else knows that”.

Using the sleeve of her gown Bellona grabs Briars arm. She leads them to the velvet rope separating them from Briars painting. 

“You used a lot of… colours. This corner over here,” Bellona points to the lower right, “Very interesting”.

Briar blushes and seems to shrink into the fabric of the gown.

“I don’t think so, really. I was kinda hoping the frame would cover the edges”.

Bellona looks at her appraisingly. She drops her hand from Briars and points to the nose of one of the girls in the painting.

“It looks stiff. Maybe she would have benefitted from more time”.

Briar is quick to agree once more.

“Yes, you’re right. I hope they won’t take points off”.

Briar looks up at her. She searches for reassurance, whether or not Bellona will give it.

Bellona starts with a flourish, “I hope for your sake they like juxtaposition because-”

The sound of boot heels hitting the stone floor echoes through the gallery. The girls turn. 

“Nah Briar… it’s Briar isn’t it? I think you’ll win. Trust me you’ve got that, the Depeel Painting Award was it, won.”

“Aspen”, Bellona's eyes do all the talking, and she isn’t happy to see him, “How would you know? You’re not a painter”.

“I’m not a dressmaker but I know that dress is puckering too much at the waist”.

Bellona doesn’t speak but her words echo off the room. Both of them hear ‘Go choke you rat’. Briar slips her hand into Bellonas. Her form obstructs Bellona from lunging at Aspen like a viper.

Aspen speaks directly to Briar, blocking out Bellona from what he’s about to say, “It’s a big deal Briar. The Depeel award”.

Last year's recipient went on to sell his collection for $30 million at auction. It was massive. Even grander an achievement than Hendsbee students usually achieve. The notoriety he gave the school brought funding but more importantly, attention. News cameras from around the globe will be at the award show, all waiting to capture the next success story as it is made.

Bellona responds with false warmth, “Life changing, even”.

Aspen doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look at Bellona even though he should practically be able to feel her eyes tearing him apart.

With a lighter tone he says, “You’re on a road to success, so you know, don’t get into a car with a driver that’ll throw you out the window once you get onto the freeway”.

Before Briar can figure out what she can possibly say, Aspen has already made a beeline for the massive glass doors. Bellona swears under her breath.

“Well we all know why he’s a sculptor and not a writer”,Bellona waves half heartedly to a complicated, graceful, metal statue standing feet away from Briars painting and the stage,“That was a terrible metaphor”.

Bellona doesn’t let Briar get to the door before declaring, “I just want to melt his statue”.

-----

Bellona and Briar had worked on their collections the moment the doors to Hendsbee academy swung open for term. 40 students would be entering, 3 would be announced as finalists, and only 1 would reep the innumerable benefits. Bellona had begun strong and ended strong, not seeming to sacrifice anything in the process. It was showing off when she’d be early for breakfast while half the class had passed out on their canvases the night before. While everyone fought the clock for more time, Bellona seemed to have struck a deal with father time. Her talent showed through when she finally unveiled her work. The class knew that they were now fighting for two finalist spots. 

Briar had begun and stopped again and again. Her indecisiveness was noted across the campus. Each day a new art medium would stain her fingers or get left on her easel, only to be replaced the next day. Watercolour, oils, acrylics, gouache. She had tried them all and settled on none. When her collection was presented it was acknowledged that her indecisiveness had worked in her favour. It was clear to the 40 students that they were fighting for one remaining finalist spot. Briar didn’t hear the praise of her peers though. She was hiding in the photography wings darkroom. 

---

Briar doesn’t go back to her dorm after her class ends. She isn’t sure what to do. Usually Bellona leads their afternoons. Today Bellona had been distant and cold. So Briar had just drifted out the glass doors onto the streets of the Hendsbee campus. Students milled about in groups, talking about their art or classes. Or maybe not. Briar hasn’t talked to anyone but Bellona.

Purposeless, Briar lets herself get lost. She wanders so far and so long she arrives at the doors of the Hon Building. A dorm she’s only been at once for a party. 

A man in khakis and a wrinkled blue polo shirt is frantically pressing the doors intercom. The intercom gives no response and he becomes flustered.

“Are you all right?”

The man wipes sweat off his brow. Briar notices the paper bag under his arm, and restaurant logo on his hat.

“Um, who are you delivering to… maybe I know them”.

Of course Briar won’t know them. The man looks down at the receipt. 

“Aspen Waters? Look I really have to go… I’m so behind”.

“I uh I know him. I can get the food to him”.

The man sprints over, and throws the greasy paper bag to her as if it had just attacked him.

This is a nightmare to Briar. She could just heave the bag into the bush but her conscience halts her from making any tempting decisions. In and out. It will just be quick. And then she’ll get the sweet relief of disappearing into her blanket cocoon until her alarm goes off or she grows wings. 

After texting Aspen, the door opens wide to display a slightly rumpled figure in flannel pajamas. His face is that of a man not expecting a visitor, but not unappreciating one. Briar doesn’t understand how some people can just be like that. So confident that what they are right in the moment is right. Completely right. 

Briar hands the bag off to him.

She mumbles, “Sorry to bother you”.

“No Briar, you’re totally not. I didn’t know you got a part time job delivering takeout”.

Briar rushes to explain,”Well no I was just-”. 

Aspen cuts her off.

“I was joking. You know I bought extra and it’s way better than the Chips and Fish they’re serving at the cafeteria. You should join me”.

Briar feels like a mouse with the very edge of its tail caught in a trap. The inevitably of its slow death hasn’t set in, so it’s considering munching on the probably poisoned cheese.

“Well you might have other plans”.

Bellona might have had other plans for them both. Briar bites the poisoned cheese.

“I’m not doing anything”.

----

Briar perches awkwardly on the edge of Aspen's bed. He has spread out a feast between them. Briar doesn’t touch anything. 

“So usually I don’t listen to Bellona, which is hard because her voice is like if a siren got stuck inside a pipe organ, but I notice when she’s not announcing her presence to the room”.

Briar takes pause at this.

“Meaning?”.

“She wasn’t talking to you. Why?”

The thoughts that have been flying around in her bird cage for a brain fall out.

“I don’t know! She’s staring daggers into my back! I don’t know what I did and usually she’s so upfront”.

Aspen bites into a wonton and gives Briar an appraising look. 

“Bellona is the reason I have the strength to stay at this school”. Briar can hear the defeat in her voice.

“Briar, you just got nominated for finalist. Bellona doesn’t want to compete with you. She’ll do anything to win. Icing you out is just the first step”, Aspen says seriously. Briar, like usual, is quick to Bellona's defense.

“No… she’s ambitious and driven. More than anyone I’ve ever met really. But she has dignity, and she wins fairly”. 

“Is that what you’ve seen or what she tells you”, Aspen says. 

“I just don’t understand how you could know her better than me. I’m her best friend”. Aspen puts his hand on her shoulder. Briar looks  into eyes that aren’t entirely sympathetic. Not cold or poisonous like Bellona's can be. More like a jungle cat stalking its prey. Though Briar doesn’t feel she’s the one being hunted.

“What I’m saying must be ringing true or you would have left by now,” he takes pause as if he’s thinking through the right way to speak to Briar,” Last year I was in that ice sculpture competition. Do you remember?”

“Bellona entered that too but she lost”. Aspen continues more fervently.

“My sculpture was being housed in a room that couldn’t fail. It was set to always be freezing. Principal Blake told me, and I remember this explicitly, that the temperature could only be changed manually. The box was behind the lock and key, just outside the room. So it was impossible when the temperature jumped to 36 degrees celsius and the entire room was flooded with what was once a recreation of the statue of David”, Aspen takes a deep breath after finishing his tale. Briar doesn’t know if she can speak the treachery towards Bellona that is parting her lips but it all tumbles out.

“Bellona took a picture there”.

“So you get it. She’s a beast,” Aspen gives out a triumphant laugh.

Briars quick defense doesn’t falter, “No, no, no. Bellona takes a lot of pictures, in a lot of places so it’s all just some coincidence. Really… I’m sorry your ice sculpture melted but that’s what happens when you make something out of ice,” Briar claps her hand over her mouth. It was mean to say but sometimes Bellona just seems to hijack her mind.

Briar runs from the room. Aspen calls out his final words of warning.

“Please just be careful”. He doesn’t sound triumphant. Just nervous. 

---

Briars commonplace nerves kept her away from the gallery. It helped her avoid overanalyzing for small mistakes or changes she could have made. Now the conversation she had with Aspen haunts her every waking moment. If her thoughts wander astray, her feet follow, and she’s at the door of the gallery. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for. Or she just won’t admit it to herself. The part of her that’s becoming prone to betraying Bellona pushes her to the edge. With her face pressed up against the foggy window, she finally allows herself to go in.

The cold air conditioning of the gallery hits her, sending goose bumps along her neck. Completely empty, each squeak of her sneakers echoes off the tall ceilings of the gallery. Her head turned to the floor sheepishly, the only indication that she has reached her painting is the dusty red rope. She grabs a hold of the rope, and looks up.

Everything is fine. Of course it is. Aspen was simply mistaken or jealous or just messing with Briar for fun. It’s Bellona, so everything is fine. She has dignity.

And Bellona arrives. Briar doesn’t hear her. The door lock doesn’t click, and Bellona is quiet with her heels in her hand. So when Bellona taps her on the shoulder, Briar jumps. She sends the rope, and herself to the floor. In a nest of red velvet and cold brass, Briar lies shocked. Bellona doesn’t move.

“Oh what a pity”. Any words, even emotionless ones, from Bellona after the week of separation is relief.

Bellona's tone changes suddenly, “Briar I am so sorry I’ve been so… distant lately. Everyone has just been saying you’re bound to win and I’d rather they know it’s a fair competition”. Bellona grabs a hold of Briar's arms, and pulls Briar to her feet. Releasing all the hurt and abandonment she’s been feeling, Briar wraps her arms around Bellona's shoulders, pulling her close. A second passes before Bellona wraps her arms around Briar, and whispers in her ear.

“You’re in really big trouble. You have to grab the painting and go to the principal”.

Never once in Briars entire life has she gotten in trouble with any authority figure. Briar knows it’s easy to be obedient when you bend to the will of others so easily. She almost doesn’t believe the words coming out of Bellona's mouth. The words don’t register even as she’s walking down the cavernous hallway, painting under her arm, and entering into the tensely silent, starkling barren Principals office.

---

Traps are around every corner, and Briar has learned this well. She has not mastered the art of dodging the tripwires of life. If any animal had done so, mouse traps would more closely resemble the game Mousetrap, and fishes would have grown saws for teeth to chew through nets. Usually the spider silk loosens enough for her, the fly, to fall out, weak from hunger and yearning, right into the mouth of a dragonfly.

With Bellona, it was just another trap. 

The Principal explains they take plagiarism very seriously.

If an account located in Madrid, with photos spanning months of progress matching her painting exactly have been liked by her account, then Briar is a plagiarist. Since Briar is a plagiarist, a liar and a cheat, then her painting is the child of her deceitful actions. Both have until Monday to pack their bags and go home. One will go in the dumpster. The other will be sitting on her suitcase on the pavement, waiting for her parents to remember girls can’t grow wings to fly back to Maine alone.

Since Briar is a plagiarist in the eyes of the school, and she often bends to the wills and traps of others, she leaves defeated and expelled. And angry. So, so angry. She wants to rip Bellona's throat out with her teeth. She wants to rip Bellona's painting with Bellona's own acrylic nails. Who else could the guilty party be, but Bellona?

As she steps outside, the cold air washes her over. Washes the stench of the decay from her dirty life away. Anger is replaced with stoicism. Stoic justice.

---

Monday night Briar crashes the show. Over months Bellona had a plan in her back pocket to backstab Briar. Over years she had filled her with fake confidence only to tear it down to the pavement and suitcase beginnings. And Briar had been a fool that everyone laughed at as she was strung along. At least Aspen had been truthful. Bellona is a beast. 

If Bellona were to win, the biggest scandal would be the Principal getting a little too tipsy and leaning her champagne glass a little too close to the art. As Briars' win begins, a picture gets sent around the room. An email linked to an art account that’s linked to a finalist who has secretly plagiarized off of their competition? A scandal! A mess! Especially now that Bellona has an open phone passed to her. Eyes meet! Glaring ones! An owl on the hunt during twilight, Bellona prepares to swipe down to Briar but Briar is faster. She scurries right in her face. She musters as much confidence as if Bellona was surrounded by twenty girls as angry as her. Bellona grabs the award.

“Just take it if you want it so bad”.

Briar doesn’t even know why she would. She still doesn’t know what she deserves. She should rip Bellona's neck with her teeth or use her acrylics to ruin her paintings as fantasised, but no. Both girls just need the fight, the hunt, to be over.

Briar leans in, “Just leave Bellona. Have some dignity”.

“You made me do this, just remember that”.

And the award swinging through the air should strike Briar in the head. It should but field mice running from owls are fast. Fast enough to fall on their backs only to watch momentum send the owl right into the powerline. Send the owl-like girl off of the stage, onto Aspens metal statue, headfirst. A sparking moment sending an animal dead.