Chapter 5

                                                          
          All that Lizzy could see while she was walking to the art room was colorful blobs meshing with the bland lockers. Or were those people? No matter which way she saw it; they still were just little anthills next to her mountain of nerves. Two hours ago, she wouldn't have been anxious at all. But now, everything was different.

          At the moment, she knew that everyone was admiring her because of Braden; it was hard to treat him like a family member. Especially because they all assumed them as a couple, even though that kind of relationship didn’t even exist. Plus, it was only the first day of school.

          Left, right, left, right, left, right. Lizzy looked down towards the floor trying not to bump in to anyone. A few more paces, and she was there. A few more paces, and she would see him.

          At last she approached the art room. But there was no one by the door. Suddenly, Lizzy began to feel clammy. Maybe he forgot to wait for her. Did she take too long? Did he decide to sit somewhere else?

          Lizzy decided to step in.

          Finally, after taking a short, but deep, breath Lizzy looked upward towards the tables. And to her complete and utter relief, Braden was sitting on a high-rising chair, with one hand on the other seat next to him. Clearly, he was claiming it.

          “Lizzy, over here!” Braden was surrounded by lots of other people, who obviously wanted to sit by him. One of them who were sitting next to him was the blonde and green-eyed boy he was talking to earlier, along with other people.

          As Lizzy got closer to the seat, she began to smile. This wasn’t as awkward as she had expected it to be. Plus, there would be lots of other people to talk to if they got in an awkward conversation gap. 

          “Hey,” Braden said as he pulled out the high-rising stool for her. “I saw you in the halls, and you looked kind of confused.” Braden laughed.

          Lizzy was thankful for the loud chatter of the classroom so no one could hear her talk, except for the people around her. “Sorry, I was…a little, uh, lost, but now I’m okay. Thanks for asking, though.” Lizzy managed an acute grin.

          “You’re welcome.” Braden said, half amused. Lizzy knew that for some reason he thought Lizzy’s filler sentences were humorous.

Then, the boy with the green eyes and blonde hair spoke, as he reached across the high-rising two-person tables.

“I’m Tim Robbins,” he said, as he extended his hand across Braden.

“Lizzy Hunt,” she said. Even though people had been introducing themselves like this practically all morning, Lizzy was not used to such politeness. She had watched new students come to Concord and you were lucky if a girl said hi to you. Let alone a guy. 

“Nice to meet your acquaintance,” Tim pulled back in his normal position.

“Don’t worry; he doesn’t always talk like that. He’s just trying to be well-mannered.” Braden punched his buddy’s skinny arm.

Tim punched him back.

“Well, nice to meet you Tim,” Lizzy tried to clear up the silence between the joke she was no longer apart of.

“Nice to meet you, too, Lizzy,” he said.

Lizzy had just remembered that whenever you were trying to sound proper, but mocking, you would speak in a British accent. That certainly would not flow here.

Suddenly, the art room door shut and a short, but beautiful woman with wavy black hair and dark brown eyes entered the room. She was very tan, and looked, possibly, like she was from southern Asia. Nonetheless, she was very pretty and somehow attracted all of the attention she needed without saying a word.

“Salutations, my students. I am Mrs. Zvarah, and I am your year ten art director.” She had a slight accent, but she was understandable.

          “Throughout this year, I will be helping you gain knowledge of art from all around the world. Mainly works of painting, sculpture, beadwork, and mosaics you will learn about this semester. Hopefully, you will learn throughout my classes that art is not just something to look ‘pretty’ on a wall,” Mrs. Zvarah said, her accent really showing now. “But that it is something to study, something to look at, perhaps, for hidden meanings. Something to concentrate on for some time, while trying to decipher why the artist created that piece, and what they felt while producing it.”

Mrs. Zvarah promenaded to the back of the room, where Lizzy, Braden, and Tim were sitting. Lizzy tried not to watch her while she was opening up a cabinet door, but her soothing appearance seemed to fascinate the whole class. Mrs. Zvarah then picked up an alarmingly huge piece of square wood out from the cabinet. 

          Somehow, her short, tiny arms managed to bring it to the front of the class where she had originally been standing. She turned it around, facing a different way than the class had seen it.

Immediately, a massive amount of gasps and surprised noises filled the first couple of rows.

          At first Lizzy couldn’t see what everyone was so in awe about. So, she then rose from her seat and saw it.

          There, was a beautiful mosaic, about the size of a kitchen table, made out of blue, green, and purple glimmering pieces of glass. It was stunning.

          Initially, it looked like an enormous stepping-stone with swirling patterns, but, as everyone got up from their stools and got closer to the piece, they realized what the majestic structure was.

          “This, as I assume everyone has guessed already, is a peacock. In my homeland, which was in Jodhpur, India, my family had peacocks visit our home often. Night after night they would come. One particular evening, my brother and I slept outside in front of the house because it was very hot inside our house. Then, as I was beginning to fall asleep, I heard something scampering around,” she paused as all of them listened in anticipation. “So, I opened my eyes and stood up. And there I saw a beautiful bright green and blue peacock.” She paused for dramatic effect. Lizzy could tell already that Mrs. Zvarah was quite a good storyteller. “It’s feathers stood all the way out, and it looked like it had thousands of eyes staring back at me as I gazed at it. It was no taller than my shoulder, feathers and all, but I still was a little frightened. I then woke up my brother, and he was as taken with the striking creature as I was. It looked at us with eagerness, hoping that we would take care of it. Thinking back, it was rather skinny, and it probably was hungry.” The class laughed. “But, nonetheless, we cared for it as our own the next morning, and it still had that same keen look in its eyes. And because of its keenness, we named it ‘Bahadraska’, meaning, ‘eyes that reflect auspiciousness’.” Mrs. Zvarah then pointed to the mosaic.

           “This is Bahadraska.” She said as she glided her hand across its colorful fan of feathers. “He was a very obedient peacock, as well as very handsome. Our father said we could only keep him until his hunger was gone, but Bahadraska grew on him, just as he did on us.” She smiled. “But soon, a neighbor of ours noticed Bahadraska after some months had gone by. He offered my father quite an amount of valuables for that peacock. Only then did my brother and I realize that he wanted Bahadraska for his intricate, ornate feathers. Sadly, my father agreed to the amount and sold Bahadraska. Of course, the man needed a few days to collect his paying amount. So, on Bahadraska’s last day, I made this mosaic of him. I stayed up all day and night making this, and finally finished before Bahadraska left.” Mrs. Zvarah paused as a downcast mood covered the room. But for some reason, she didn’t look the least bit gloomy.

          “So, the man came and left, and I went to my father and started to cry. He comforted my brother and I as we wept for Bahadraska, as both of us imagined his terrible fate. But our father then said, ‘calm down children, you know you can visit Bahadraska, don’t you?’ We both immediately looked up at him in surprise.” Mrs. Zvarah looked up at the class after stroking the artwork.

          “He started to chuckle, and told us that Bahadraska was only being used for breeding, because he was such a handsome bird. My brother and I were instantly relieved.

          “So, for the rest of our childhood and growing years, my father, brother and I visited Bahadraska. But I always kept this mosaic to remind me of him when I couldn’t visit him. And that, my children, is the story behind this piece of art.”

          A silence stayed over the class like a heavy fog over a city.

          Lizzy thought about the story and realized the class was in a scattered half circle, just like kindergarteners in a reading group, around the mosaic that was leaned up against the wall.

          “Now, I would like all of you to return to your chairs and think of something that means a lot to you, preferably being one thing…and something specific, too. And in these last few minutes, I would like you to sketch it down on this piece of paper.” Mrs. Zvarah said as she was passing them out.

          The class sat in silence, pencils scratching, hard at work.

          Right before the bell rang, Lizzy began to draw a specific shell that she had brought along to Oxford, a shell that she had picked up on Hampton Beach in her home state.

          When she was six, her whole family went to that beach---early in the morning, before anyone else could get there to crowd it. The feeling in the air was perfect: the sun wasn’t being annoying by shining in your face when you were trying to get a good look at the ocean, and the air was just at the right temperature. It wasn’t windy or humid. It was perfect.

          After they had arrived at the brink of sunset, Lizzy ran out into the ocean just deep enough to feel the water trickle around her toes. After wondering if the water was too cool, she sat down in the shallow part of it and looked far out into the ocean. It was gray, vast, and empty. Usually, there were boats and people, but not this early. This time she had felt alone.

          After about twenty minutes, Lizzy saw a light pink, almost white, piece of something about ten yards away to the left. The waves would take it in when the water was pulling back, and then they would heave it at the sand again when the water threw itself forward.   She decided to run and check what it was before it was sucked back into the gray wave again.

          She realized when she got over there that it was a perfect shell. It was a whelk that had a pale pink shade on the outside and a vibrant pink color on the inside. It was the kind of shell that if you just glanced at it, you thought it was fake. But this was real. It was pristine and unblemished. Smooth, and solid. Perfectly shaped, and not pitted. It was almost soft, like it was made out of creamy milk. Lizzy decided right then and there that the shell was from a mermaid. Of course, she was just a kindergartener, but it looked to be so. And from that moment on, she kept it with her whenever she traveled. From as short a distance as a friend’s house, and as long a distance as where she was now. The shell was very important to her, and that’s why she wanted to draw it.

          Right after she had finished drawing the point of the shell, the bell sounded and everyone shifted out of his or her seats.

          Mrs. Zvarah stood by the door.

          “Tomorrow I will bring in various materials for you to make a mosaic out of your object or, perhaps, living thing. Have a wonderful rest of the day, everyone.” She smiled as everyone flooded out the door.

          “Wow, she was interesting,” Lizzy, said as she pushed in her stool and picked up her half-drawn shell.

           “I know,” Braden said in agreement.  “Last year, our art teacher was the exact opposite. She only taught about impressionist paintings and pot sculpture. She never encouraged us to do better, so our work was just, well, plain. And impressionist paintings,” he said, while blowing air out of his mouth. “What a loathsome project.”

           Lizzy, Braden, and Tim all walked to the door together.

          “Goodbye,” Mrs. Zvarah said to them as they strolled out the doorway.

          “Goodbye, Mrs. Zvarah!” Lizzy said. Tim and Braden simply just said, “Bye”, but Lizzy thought the art teacher deserved more than that. She was intriguing with her stories and artwork, and had a remarkable personality. So far, she was Lizzy’s favorite teacher. And she a feeling that her favoritism with Mrs. Zvarah would stay the same.

          Braden walked Lizzy out of the room and they both looked at their next classes on their schedule.

          “I’ll see you after sixth then?” Braden flashed a hopeful smile.

          “Yeah,” Lizzy said, pondering something.

          “Cool,” he said. “See you then!’ He began walking to his next class.

          Lizzy decided to ask him what she was wondering. “Hey, Braden!” She called after him.

He turned around and trotted back to her. “Yeah?” he asked.

          “How exactly are we getting home?” She asked, trying not to sound too clueless.

          “Oh, I think we’re walking with my dad…but I’m not really sure.” he said, while scratching his head, wondering the same thing. “Just meet me by the main doors and we’ll walk to the primary school. It’s really connected here, but we secondary students aren’t allowed to cross through there. So, we’ll walk around to the primary door, alright?” Braden said, finding a solution her question.

          “Cool,” Lizzy said. “Thanks.” She realized that sounded a little out of place, considering they both had the same problem of not really knowing where to go, but didn’t bother correcting herself. She figured it’d sound twice as awkward.

          “No problem.” He replied. “See you by the door.” He smiled at her as he turned.

          “Yup,” Lizzy said quietly. She then realized she had only two minutes to get to the gymnasium, and still had to get to her locker.  

          Lizzy almost sprinted to her locker to put her things in it. But she decided against it, considering there were teachers watching. She definitely didn’t want to make a bad impression.

          She quickly dropped in her things and found the gym only a couple doors right of her. And if it weren’t for that convenience, she would have been late.

          She opened the heavy door and entered the giant room. There were several students in there, possibly forty. Many of them were standing and chatting to one another, while some sat distantly from each other on the bleachers. She decided to sit down on the bleachers, like the others and wait until the teacher instructed them all to stop talking.

          As she was sitting there in boredom while a lot of the other people were holding conversations, she looked around for people to talk to. But before she had the chance, someone sat down beside her.

          “Lizzy!” Anna said. She was wearing her hair up in a ponytail now, instead of a bob.

          “Hey,” Lizzy stood up from her sitting position. “I totally forgot about you and I having the same gym class together. I’m sorry,” she said.

          “Oh, it’s fine.” Anna didn’t look the least bit offended. “So how was art? Mrs. Zvarah wasn’t too scary, was she?” Anna giggled at her sarcasm.

          Lizzy adlibbed. “Um, well…honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more comfortable around a teacher in my whole life. She has a really unique teaching style.” Lizzy said.

          “That’s what I thought, too. So she told you the peacock story, you know, with her mosaic and all? Brilliant.” Anna asked.

          Lizzy nodded. “Yeah, that was really amazing. I can’t believe there were actually big birds like that just wondering around her home. I’d love to see a wild peacock. They’re so beautiful.” Lizzy said thoughtfully.

          “I agree,” Anna said, while putting her hands on her hips.

          There was a small pause.

          “So, since you’ve been going to Birchwood a while,” Lizzy said, “What kinds of things do you do in Gym?” She asked.       

          “Well,” Anna thought. “I don’t know if it’s that much different from your school in America, but we usually do stretches first, and then play a select game for one whole week. And sometimes, on short weeks we play kick ball, or something like that.” Anna said. “Any similarities?”

          Lizzy smirked. “Its sounds pretty much the same, to tell the truth.”

          “That’s good. Then you won’t be confused, you know, if there were differences.” Anna commented.

          Just as Lizzy was about to say something back, a sharp whistle blew from the door. Everyone in the room snapped their heads in that direction.

          A stocky woman stepped forward in a gray and navy tracksuit. She demanded attention. But not quite like Mrs. Zvarah, who earned it with ease.

          “Alright, enough prattle. Everyone get in a circle and I’ll hand out my syllabus.”

          Everyone immediately followed her command and made an oval in the direct center of the gym.

          “I am Mrs. Bianchi, your physical education teacher.” She sat down next to Anna in the oval-circle, and passed around a pile of syllabuses. As soon as everyone received one, she spoke about the various sports they would be focusing on, and what they were required to wear everyday. In the end, it didn’t sound so difficult to Lizzy.

          After Mrs. Bianchi was finished explaining, the whole class played a game of kickball until the bell rang.

          Anna and Lizzy walked out of class together.

          “I’ve never been,” Anna said as she caught her breath from running the bases, “real good at that game. Never liked it much.” 

          Lizzy laughed. “I’m not the best either.”

          “Same.” Anna said.

          They both walked out of the gym and headed towards the main hall.

          “Well, see you tomorrow, Anna. Thanks for saving me at lunch and all.” Lizzy said, smiling.

          “Of course,”” Anna said happily. “See you tomorrow, Lizzy!” Anna said while turning around.

          Lizzy figured she’s better meet with Braden by the main entrance, so she strolled to her locker and retrieved her things.

          While she was walking down the hall, she realized that she hadn’t had a bad day at all. She made a friend, had really nice teachers, and didn’t really have any awkward moments around Braden.

          She saw him waiting by the door while holding it open when several people walked out.

          Awesome, Lizzy thought, He’s good-looking and polite.

          Lizzy walked towards Braden, trying to portray confidence as she approached him.

           “Hey, Braden,” she said.

          Braden turned around, smiling like always. “How’s it?” he asked, shutting the door.

          “Um,” Lizzy said, trying to find the words to describe how, in fact, gym class was. “We played kickball, actually. Mrs. Bianchi is really…enthusiastic…” Lizzy said.

          Braden chuckled as he ran his hands trough his hair. “Oh, yeah, we had her last year as a teacher, too, and most of the time, she played sports along with us instead of just sitting on the side.” Braden remarked.

          Lizzy laughed.

          The two of them walked all the way around the building to get in the primary building, which was in the back.

          They entered upon the primary school, and met Jerry in the office. He had his back turned to the desk, with is hands on the telephone.

          “Hey, dad,” Braden said.

          Jerry turned around quickly. A smile illuminated his face.

          “Oh! I was just about to call the secondary building to send you two over here.” He paused. “I guess there’s now need for that now,” he said, as he hung up the tan phone.

          “How was the first day back?” Jerry asked, curiously.

          “Good!” Lizzy decided to reply first so she didn’t sound like an echo of Braden.

          “Fantastic.” Braden said. “We had a really interesting art teacher, though. A lot different than our ninth year teacher, that’s for sure.” He said insistently.

          Jerry nodded. “Oh, yes. Mrs. Zvarah. She just transferred from a school in Surrey. I met her at the teacher’s convention in early August. She seemed very eager to teach,” Jerry commented.

          Lizzy nodded eagerly. “She told us a story about this peacock when she lived in Jodhpur and showed us her mosaic that she made of it. It was gorgeous. She sounded like she was really in tune with what art really was.” Lizzy said thoughtfully.

          “I agree.” Braden concurred.

          For the rest of the walk home, Jerry mainly talked about his day at school with the year four students, and Lizzy and Braden exchanged opinions about teachers. At last, they arrived at the condo door and opened it.

          They walked in to find Sylvia sitting at the island table arranging a beautiful light blue assortment of flowers.

          “Hello, dear,” Jerry said as he waltzed in.

          “Oh, Jerry, Braden, Lizzy,” she said. “How was your day at school?” she asked as she stood up from her chair.

          They all walked into the kitchen and told Sylvia about their day.

          “Where’s Gwen?” Sylvia asked.

          “She’s walking home with Hanna,” Jerry replied. “And how was your day at the shop?”

          Lizzy had learned that Sylvia worked at a flower shop called “L’Arome”. Lizzy learned that meant ‘The Aroma’ in French.

          Sylvia smiled. “Oh, busy, as usual. We’ve got so many orders right now, and I haven’t a clue why. Usually we get them later in September, not the end of August.” Sylvia said, a little puzzled at the fact.

          “Well, it’s very nice that you have business, sweetheart.” Jerry kissed his wife quickly on the cheek.

          Sylvia grinned. Soon enough, Braden jogged upstairs and Jerry left to go prepare things for tomorrow in his classroom. Lizzy decided this was probably a good time to talk to Sylvia more than she had.

          “Those are beautiful flowers. My mother never made arrangements like this at home.” Lizzy said.

          “Oh, why thank you, dear. These were some leftover from the sale on Saturday, and I thought I might bring them home for us to enjoy.” Sylvia smiled as she added another flower to the vase.

          After a few moments of quietness, Lizzy hopped on the stool next to Sylvia.

          “There. All finished.” Sylvia bunched them all together and inhaled their scent.

          “Mmmm,” she said. “I simply cannot find another flower in the store right now that smell as ripe as these.”
          “Really?” Lizzy asked.

          “Oh, yes. They are like fresh fruit.” She said, sliding the vase over to Lizzy.

           Lizzy then drew in their aroma and realized how sweet smelling they were.

          Lizzy gave Sylvia a satisfied look. “What kind of flowers are these?”

          “These are called agapanthus. They are from Africa, and Colette, the owner of the store, suggested we order these and see if they were popular. So these are some extras that we haven’t sold.”

          “They’re so pretty.” Lizzy said, wanting to have one, just one, to remind her of their unusual exquisiteness.

          Sylvia touched one of the soft petals. “One woman who works with me has an avid interest in the meaning of various flowers. She told me, as we were closing today, that this flower, agapanthus, has a meaning to it.” Sylvia paused for a moment while trimming a stem she didn’t notice before.

          “What is it?” Lizzy asked intently.

          “’Secret Love’,” Sylvia whispered, giggling a bit.

She then took a flower out of the arrangement. “This one seems not to fit. I think it may be a bit young, considering it’s bloom is still small.” Sylvia set the flower aside, and centered the vase on the island table.

          “I’ll be right back, dear,” Sylvia said as she rose from her chair and went down the hallway.

          Lizzy reached across the table and picked up the small flower. Secret Love. The words seemed to pop right out of the petals. She wondered if this little blossom meant something, or was secretly trying to send her a sign. She decided to surreptitiously keep it in a thin vase in her room. No one would ever know she actually kept it for its meaning.

          And with that, Lizzy took the flower and headed upstairs. As she was passing a small white hutch in the hallway, she opened the doors of it and found a circular vase to put it in. She then filled it up with water, and placed it on her dresser. And from that day on, she would watch it grow.

Reviews

[Short.Nerd]

Her keeping the flower was cool:) I've never heard of that flower before though.xD The art teacher seems absolutely amazing! Better than my last art teacher lol. Braden is so sweet:) You have my mind on British accents now *sigh* No one here that has one. Oh well! Keep up the great work!

[compositionc]

THAT WAS COOL. The flower thing seemed awesome. :D Mrs. Zvarah sounds really epic. I wish I had an epic art teacher. I hate art. I might like it if there was a cool art teacher. Braden's such a sweetiepie. I keep imagining all those amazing British accents.