Premature Evacuation (Underground Sorority #1) by Rachel Shane

Author:Rachel Shane [Shane, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B013MDRBRG
Publisher: Twinstar Press
Published: 2015-09-28T23:00:00+00:00

Ever since I made that collage for Fallon, she had been painting wacky self-portraits. A few photo copied Frida Kahlo paintings gave her inspiration, and for lack of a better subject, she settled on painting herself. Her pictures were quite beautiful with hyperrealistic brush strokes, and I really did think she had developed a nice theme. She’d even received more praise than I had in class.

But self-portraits didn’t translate into abstract sculpture. And she was about to fail her sculpture composition final. Mackenzie to the rescue.

I met her in the sculpture studio. Clay-streaked tarps covered every table. Gray stains littered the dull concrete floors while exposed brick walls gave the room a prison feel. At least the painting studios had glossy white shellacked walls, blank canvases all around. And the graphics labs only had gorgeous Macs with their sleek silver consoles and their perfect names.

Fallon pointed at her project, a lump of clay sitting on the table. “It looks like a giant blob of clay.”

I pursed my lips, opting for the glass half full approach. “What’s it supposed to be?”

“Something beautiful.”

“Well, I know that. But what’s the assignment?”

She laughed so hard she snorted. “No, really. That’s the assignment.”

I cringed. Open ended assignments were the worst when you lacked inspiration.

“I think I took the assignment too literal. I tried to make a pun out of it. You know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” She twisted the oval shaped lump around where two circles had been carved into the center of the clay to resemble an iris and pupil. “Behold, an eye.” She clapped a clay covered hand on her forehead, leaving a streak behind.

“But it’s abstract sculpture class,” I said, my voice rising like a question.

She slumped into the nearest seat. “I’m going to fail. I’m going to get kicked out of the school for being an impostor.”

“Why don’t you try to sculpt an emotion?” An image of Corey, sad and depressed, holding onto me like a life raft as tears streamed down his cheek. “What would sadness look like? Or love?”

“I know what frustration looks like.” Fallon slammed her fist on to the clay sculpture. I jumped from the surprising violence of her actions. Curved strips of clay oozed from beneath her hand and arched upwards, creating the appearance of a lopsided ocean wave.

I tilted my head at the sculpture. “Actually, I think that looks pretty cool.”

She perked up. “Cool? Or beautiful?”

“Definitely beautiful. Do a few more of these to make it a series and you’ve got yourself one kick ass final project.”

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