at.
“You just sound so …” Mom said.
“Absolutely right,” Pippa’s mom finished for her.
They told the story whenever they got together. Pippa and I rolled our eyes, but when our moms couldn’t hear, we told each other nothing was impossible all the time. And Pippa did learn to blow a bubble — proof that nothing was impossible — even if she tried over four hundred times before she got it. Still, success is success.
I blew my nose, put the scrapbook on the shelf, and turned on my computer.
Chapter 18
Expression
“S o what have you been drawing at home?” Vivian handed me a steaming cup of tea.
Back home in California the weather was still hot in the end of September, but today in Michigan, icy wind bit my cheeks every time I stepped outside, and my bike ride up to Vivian’s had been the coldest yet. I was glad for the tea.
“I’m working on shading, like you asked …” I covered my sketchbook protectively, not wanting her to see the many drawings of Dad’s eye.
Vivian gave me her now-familiar sharp look. “What’s wrong, Sadie?”
I didn’t want to talk about Dad or Mom or Ruth or school, and I found myself picking a fight to avoid Vivian’s questions. “I’m tired of black and white. I’m tired of drawing porch swings and trees and clouds.”
Without thinking, I shoved my sketchbook across the table. Vivian opened it and thumbed through. She paused over the pictures of Dad’s face.
Instead of asking how Dad got his black eye, or why I had drawn it a million times, Vivian frowned over my last drawing and then closed the book.
“I see the problem,” she said.
“What?” I asked, feeling defensive.
“Faces are difficult, for a number of reasons. But let’s start with the eyes. Eyes are where a person’s personality shows up most. When I started drawing eyes, I became really frustrated. With eyes it isn’t just about drawing shapes.” Vivian put a small mirror in front of me. “What do you see in your face right now?”
I glared at my angry reflection.
“Look at the creases around your eyes. Expression is seen in the eyelids and eyebrows.”
I made several faces in the mirror. My pupils didn’t change at all, but the skin around my eyes folded and wrinkled to show surprise, concern, happiness, sadness.
“That’s why shading is so important. You can draw all the shapes you want — the details are in the shading.”
I picked up a pencil, suddenly fascinated by my own face. Surprised eyes. Questioning eyes. Suddenly my drawings had life.
Vivian clattered around in the kitchen joking with Peter while I drew. As I listened to them, I started on a set of laughing eyes. The two of them, happy together, remindedme of Mom complimenting Dad on his crazy scrambled eggs. Why couldn’t we be like that all the time?
After I finished my drawing, Peter presented me with a whipped cream topped mug. “I call this delectable creation Double-Decker Chocolate on a Cloud. I put whipped cream on the bottom, then added melted chocolate, then milk, cinnamon and nutmeg. I topped it off with more whipped cream.”
I took a sip. “Delicious!”
Vivian called from the kitchen. “Sadie, we should probably call your parents. It’s after seven o’ clock. If you want, you can eat here and then we’ll drive you home. We’re on our way to Compline tonight, so it wouldn’t be an extra trip.”
“What’s Compline?” I asked Peter.
Peter sat across from me and examined my drawings. “You would love Compline, Sadie. They turn off all the lights at the Catholic church and light the candles. The choir sings gorgeous Latin chants that make you feel like you’re swimming in music. I don’t go to any other kind of church.”
I thought about swimming in music as I sipped my hot chocolate and went to call Dad. He was clearly distracted by Higgins. Dad had always wanted a puppy too.
“Just don’t teach him any bad habits, Dad.”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
Vivian handed me
“You just sound so …” Mom said.
“Absolutely right,” Pippa’s mom finished for her.
They told the story whenever they got together. Pippa and I rolled our eyes, but when our moms couldn’t hear, we told each other nothing was impossible all the time. And Pippa did learn to blow a bubble — proof that nothing was impossible — even if she tried over four hundred times before she got it. Still, success is success.
I blew my nose, put the scrapbook on the shelf, and turned on my computer.
Chapter 18
Expression
“S o what have you been drawing at home?” Vivian handed me a steaming cup of tea.
Back home in California the weather was still hot in the end of September, but today in Michigan, icy wind bit my cheeks every time I stepped outside, and my bike ride up to Vivian’s had been the coldest yet. I was glad for the tea.
“I’m working on shading, like you asked …” I covered my sketchbook protectively, not wanting her to see the many drawings of Dad’s eye.
Vivian gave me her now-familiar sharp look. “What’s wrong, Sadie?”
I didn’t want to talk about Dad or Mom or Ruth or school, and I found myself picking a fight to avoid Vivian’s questions. “I’m tired of black and white. I’m tired of drawing porch swings and trees and clouds.”
Without thinking, I shoved my sketchbook across the table. Vivian opened it and thumbed through. She paused over the pictures of Dad’s face.
Instead of asking how Dad got his black eye, or why I had drawn it a million times, Vivian frowned over my last drawing and then closed the book.
“I see the problem,” she said.
“What?” I asked, feeling defensive.
“Faces are difficult, for a number of reasons. But let’s start with the eyes. Eyes are where a person’s personality shows up most. When I started drawing eyes, I became really frustrated. With eyes it isn’t just about drawing shapes.” Vivian put a small mirror in front of me. “What do you see in your face right now?”
I glared at my angry reflection.
“Look at the creases around your eyes. Expression is seen in the eyelids and eyebrows.”
I made several faces in the mirror. My pupils didn’t change at all, but the skin around my eyes folded and wrinkled to show surprise, concern, happiness, sadness.
“That’s why shading is so important. You can draw all the shapes you want — the details are in the shading.”
I picked up a pencil, suddenly fascinated by my own face. Surprised eyes. Questioning eyes. Suddenly my drawings had life.
Vivian clattered around in the kitchen joking with Peter while I drew. As I listened to them, I started on a set of laughing eyes. The two of them, happy together, remindedme of Mom complimenting Dad on his crazy scrambled eggs. Why couldn’t we be like that all the time?
After I finished my drawing, Peter presented me with a whipped cream topped mug. “I call this delectable creation Double-Decker Chocolate on a Cloud. I put whipped cream on the bottom, then added melted chocolate, then milk, cinnamon and nutmeg. I topped it off with more whipped cream.”
I took a sip. “Delicious!”
Vivian called from the kitchen. “Sadie, we should probably call your parents. It’s after seven o’ clock. If you want, you can eat here and then we’ll drive you home. We’re on our way to Compline tonight, so it wouldn’t be an extra trip.”
“What’s Compline?” I asked Peter.
Peter sat across from me and examined my drawings. “You would love Compline, Sadie. They turn off all the lights at the Catholic church and light the candles. The choir sings gorgeous Latin chants that make you feel like you’re swimming in music. I don’t go to any other kind of church.”
I thought about swimming in music as I sipped my hot chocolate and went to call Dad. He was clearly distracted by Higgins. Dad had always wanted a puppy too.
“Just don’t teach him any bad habits, Dad.”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
Vivian handed me
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