“Aye-aye,” Skyler muttered and took the robe from me, already kicking off his shoes.
The custodian had shown me how to do this the other day, as well as how to mess with the lights so I could make sure the students practiced some proper chiaroscuro. Once Skyler gave the okay on the temperature, I asked him to stand on the dais, and tried the different lighting arrangements combined with the various poses—the plan for today was a quick round of gesture poses followed by two or three undraped contrapposto, so nothing too difficult.
Skyler was remarkably skilled at keeping still, especially for someone who had never worked as a life model before. I complimented him on it again and he shrugged. “I never knew it was a skill to just do nothing,” he joked. “I can be without doing.”
To be without doing. The idea sent a chill down my spine, especially since I’d spent so many nights trying to accomplish the opposite.
All Iwaswas doing, having convinced myself it was the only proof of my existence and here was a young boy shooting holes in my dogma by simply standing still. I couldn’t help smiling up at him in admiration, which, when you remember the scenario, might strike some as a very stupid thing to do.
Skyler’s eyes narrowed as he caught me staring, but something in my gaze must have put him at ease, as his face immediately softened and turned carefree once again. He broke the pose to put his hands on his hips and grin down at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget to exist outside their eyes.”
Heat rose to my cheeks despite myself. “Pardon?”
“What you said to me in your office.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. Then he smiled mischievously and put on a trulyhorriblemock-cockney accent. “I know Imostn’t convince me-self I’m an object.”
Before I could open my mouth to answer, I caught sight of the clock on the wall. “Put your robe on, mate, and take a seat. The horde’s coming.”
The students filed in, whispering excitedly at the sight of the raised dais in the middle of the room. Some of them had spotted Skyler sat in the corner, wrapped in his robe, but more of them hadn’t. Once they had all taken their seats and prepared their materials, I climbed up onto the modeling dais and gave them all a good glare.
“All right, listen up, you lot. We’re done with paneling, rah rah, bless, yippee.” I scowled around at the openly guilty and relieved faces. “Now. You are about to be given a privilege, an opportunity, a bloodygiftin the way of learning musculature and movement—how to capture apresenceon the page—and it’s my job to make sure you don’t squander it, so listen carefully. There will be no phones, no recording devices of any kind. There will be no whistling, no snickering, no comments, and no rude gestures. I want to make this crystal clear, you doanythingI judge to be even remotely inappropriate and you will never set foot in my classroom again, understood? Think of it as an absolute zero tolerance policy on being a pervy little wanker. If you make this young lad at all uncomfortable, I. Will. End. You.”
A brief moment of clarity followed, and I amended: “—r participation in this class. I will end your participation in this class.”
I waited for the class’s silent confirmation and stepped off the dais, indicating that Skyler could take my place. He nodded and climbed up, then removed the robe and handed it to me. “All right, we’ll begin with a series of gesture poses, a minute and a half each. Skyler, if you please.”
I watched the students carefully for a long time, and while there were definitely a few flushed faces and trembling charcoal pencils, they all seemed to be intent on behaving themselves.
All but one.
I squinted up at Finch, seated as he was in one of the upper rows, his face striving to match the redness of his hair and his pencil lying limp and unused in his faltering grip.
What was wrong with that boy?
July 26th
He was oh-oh-my-godhe washimand he wasall of himand JesusChristthere was more of him than I’d expected.
I gulped and tried desperately to force oxygen to my brain, maybe get the reasoning process restarted, some sort of motor function, the ability toblink—I’d take anything at this point.
Skyler was standing center stage, buck-ass nekkid, as if he couldn’t care less.
I tried to shut my eyes but I couldn’t; it was a bit like staring into the sun, though I guess, considering, the moon would be a more appropriate metaphor.
I tried to shake myself, but there was no getting around the fact that what stood before me was the vision I’d been conjuring up every night for days now. Onlybetter. No way had I imagined skin that flawless, or a frame that spare, to say nothing of other portions of anatomy I had never dared to exaggerate in my mind. My god, I couldn’t lookaway. Someone was going to notice! I wasn’t even drawing anything! Was I still holding a pencil?
My fingers tightened around the graphite—
CRACK.
There was a dry shuffling as dozens of heads turned toward me, and Skyler’s beautiful eyes flicked up to find me in the sea of faces—then widened in recognition.
It was all I could do to keep from stabbing myself in the neck with the pencil stub and thereby bringing an end to this torture. A lightning bolt from god would have been particularly welcome, tearing through the ceiling and incinerating me where I sat in my conductive little puddle of humiliation.
If only Skyler would put some clothes on, my higher brain functions would return ...
As it was, Armand requested a change of pose, and I all but attempted to garrote myself with my shoelaces as light and shadow dripped in and out of crevices on Skyler’s body, outlining so much more than a human structure.
He really was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. And hemaintained eye contact, shifting into the new position, and then he—
