She waits until Mrs. Capriendo turns around to pass the paper to Cooper, who tucks it into his lap.
Thankfully, art class means big tables that are easy to hide things under.
It’s one of the few classes that mix grades. Cooper had begged me to take it, claiming his grandpa wouldn’t allow himanotherstudy hall. It was either a science class or an art class, and he picked art.
“I mean, how does a teacher actually grade art?” he shrugged. “I could be the worst artist in the world and I could probably sell someone on it.”
Reasonable.
It was an easy yes for me. Rebecca was already taking theclass, and I’ve always loved looking at the displays of past students.
“You owe me an ice cream,” Rebecca whispers.
“I always get you ice cream,” I respond with a smile.
The corner of her lips tilts up before vanishing as the teacher turns to us. “Amara!” she calls with a chilling smile. “What were the two most well-known forms of impressionism?”
I think about it for a few minutes. While I like impressionism, there are some styles I prefer. “Well, I think my favorite is fauvism?—”
She shakes her head vigorously, her curly gray hair flying around her face as her lips twist into a sour frown.
“Fauvism was a movement that broke away from Impressionism. They rebelled against it, creating some of the most gorgeous, colorful work. Henri Matisse! Maurice de Vlaminck!” she closes her eyes, smiling. “Beautiful. Justbeautiful.But not impressionism, I fear, dear. I’m asking what the two most widely known impressionist movements are.”
I look around the class. No one seems to want to answer. Cooper is nearly asleep at the other corner of the table.
“Well, there was the post-impressionist movement?—”
“Thatwasone of them,” she says. “Also a reaction against impressionism. You see, the art world was,” she taps her finger against her cheek, “well, dramatic isn’t quite a strong enough word. What’s the second one? Rebecca?”
My friend sits up in her seat, her chest puffed out in front of her. “Neo-impressionism?” she asks, as if not quite sure.
Mrs. Capriendo smacks her hand against the table. “Yes! Amazing. Truly amazing,” she mutters mostly to herself. “Neo-impressionism was a style that arose from impressionism,” she informed us.
While she’s busy walking around the room, Cooper takes the second she turns her back to us to unfold my paper. Iwatch as a small blush creeps onto his cheeks, the small dimple he’s always had deepening with a small smile.
His green eyes meet mine, and he gives me a small nod.
“Impressionism started in the 1860s but did not become a movement until 1874, during their first exhibition in Paris.”
She stops in the middle of the room, a hand on her hip. “Am I boring you, Mr. Henry?”
Cooper’s head shoots up.
Cooper has always been wicked smart. But for some reason, he doesn’t seem to get great grades, and getting him to pay attention in class is always a hassle for teachers.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, looking down sheepishly.
“If this is boring you, Cooper, just wait until we launch into the drama and infighting within the movement.”
She looks around the room, realizing she’s losing people. “Did you know that Degas had a, well, what do the kids say these days,frenemy?”
A couple of the girls look up from their iPods.
She nods, smiling. “Yep. A turbulent friendship with Edouard Manet that ended when Manet took a knife to one of Degas’ portraits of him and his wife. They made up, of course. But their relationship was still complex until Manet died.”
There are some whispers around the class.
Although interesting, I’m not sure when any of this information will be of use to me.
