The student lot was empty when I pulled in. I was apprehensive about the meeting with Mrs. Snyder at first, but now I was just plain curious. The school was such a different place—the empty halls—the silence—the musty smell of an old building. I rounded the corner and headed down the hallway toward the Art room as the squeak of sneakers entered the building behind me.
"Good morning," Mrs. Snyder said laying the piece she was staring at face down on her desk. "How are you today?"
"Intrigued."
She smiled. "Why don't you have a seat over here?" She pointed toward two stools on the far side of her desk. "I think I hear the other student in the hallway."
I was setting my book bag on the floor, under my stool when Mrs. Snyder greeted the other student. "Good morning, I'm glad you could make it."
I looked up and froze—Jason was standing in the doorway. His face turned crimson.
Mrs. Snyder went to the door and ushered him into the room, closing the door behind him. "Come on, Jason," she encouraged, "this will only take a minute. Do you know each other?" Her expression looked like the proverbial cat that had just eaten the canary.
"I can't be late to class," Jason mumbled, "we have a game."
"Yes. Yes, you're not going to be late." Mrs. Snyder waited until Jason sat down. She and I both noticed he didn't put his book bag down as if he intended to make this very short. "Well, Jason, Izzy. Izzy, Jason." She cleared her throat and sat back against the edge of her desk. "In my brief years of teaching I don't think I've ever had two students who've shown as much promise as the two of you. Even in college, such talent is rare. So I thought, given your talent, you would appreciate each other's work." She turned and walked behind her desk.
Suddenly I remembered my picture of Jason—Oh, My God! She wouldn't. I was about to be totally humiliated. Mrs. Snyder gently picked up the piece of matte board she'd been looking at when I first arrived. I gulped as she slowly turned it toward us. Jason groaned.
And then, there it was, my drawing, matted perfectly next to another drawing. I was so embarrassed I didn't even look at the other one for a moment—and then it sunk in, it was me. Jason and I both shifted uncomfortably in our chairs.
Mrs. Snyder was beaming. "Now there's no need to be embarrassed. Your drawings of one another show diverse technique but they are both passionate expressions—well maybe that's not the best choice of words. My point is, your drawings are wonderful. The best I've seen in years. You both should be extremely proud."
Neither of us responded.
"Well, I'd like to display—"
"No!" Jason jumped up, his stool toppling backwards, crashing to the floor. "I have to go. I can't be late." He bolted for the door and was gone.
My emotions were completely frazzled. I had no idea what I was feeling. I leaned down for my book bag and then looked up into Mrs. Snyder's stunned, apologetic face.
"I'm so sorry—I thought you kids would—" She shook her head. "Please forgive me."
I tried to force a sympathetic smile, but I couldn't. I paused a moment and stared at Jason's drawing of me. It was beautiful, but it wasn't me—the face looked angelic instead of monstrous. "I'm sorry," I mouthed silently. I left Mrs. Snyder still holding our artwork.