Reese’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched Garrett storm out of the building. She hadn’t meant to offend him, but his doubt in her had hurt. No, she wasn’t a big fan of looking people in the eye, but after their conversation on the dock and her chat with Malia, Reese felt braver than she had in a long time. She still couldn’t bring herself to look into Garrett’s eyes, but she didn’t think it would be a problem with perfect strangers, like the principal and her future students, if she got the job.
“Ms. Graham?”
Reese turned and came face to face with a man who stood at least six feet tall, wore a black suit with an eggplant-colored tie, and had a nose that tipped up, pointing toward the ceiling. She recognized him from his photo on the school’s website. “Principal Ryker,” she said, infusing some much-needed confidence into her voice and stature. She could do this, no matter what Garrett thought of her. Maybe it had been a mistake telling him the truth, or maybe this was her chance to prove to him and to herself that she was stronger than either of them thought.
“Yes, please come into my office.” Principal Ryker gestured for her to precede him and she did, quickly taking a seat in front of his desk. The flat surface was covered with papers and overfilled binders. On the far corner stood a glass statue that seemed to be some sort of award, but she couldn’t make out what it said because that part was blocked by a stack of files.
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice,” he said, taking a seat in his obviously faux leather chair at his desk.“I have to say, after looking at the photos of your art, I’m quite impressed. Your Master’s degree in art history more than qualifies you to teach at our private school, and at the moment you are my most eligible applicant. Now, as I told you in my email, one of the most important parts of the art class curriculum is the senior class project. What do you think would be best suited for that?”
The man studied her intensely, just as she was studying him. But she just couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact. She’d been so determined to be as normal as possible, but what if Principal Ryker died in some awful way? This was her one and only chance to make a good impression on the man, and the last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize it by activating her ability.
But to answer his question, Reese had researched this school online and spent several hours browsing its website, knowing this would be brought up at her interview. “Junk journals are quite popular right now, particularly on social media. As seniors, what better way for the students to capture their memories than to have them all in one place, using items they either already have or that can easily be found around the house.”
“Junk journals?” His dismissive tone suggested he wasn’t seeing the big picture.
“That’s just a name for it, but I assure you, most turn out to be quite beautiful and even meaningful. She reached into her bag and pulled out a sample one she’d made in the last few days using scraps of leftover newspaper, magazine graphics, dry flowers, string, leaves, and other random things. “I made this one that you’re welcome to take a look at. Of course, I made mine to show you so there’s nothing personal inside, but the students would be able to glue photos of their friends, trips they have gone on, pages from books they love, the first flower a boy gave them, or a small note their best friend passed to them in class. It would be the perfect culmination to their years in school,and something easily portable they could bring with them to college or wherever life takes them. Furthermore, I would have them integrate methods of modern and contemporary art in accordance with the school’s curriculum.”
Principal Ryker nodded as he slowly turned the pages of her junk journal. His expression softened until he looked up at her so fast, she barely had time to avert her eyes to avoid making direct eye contact.
“I have to say Ms. Graham, no one has ever presented such an idea to me, but I think I like it.” He smiled broadly and handed the journal back to her. After she easily answered a few more of his questions, he looked up at her with a broad smile. “I will definitely be getting in touch with you soon.”
“Great,” Reese said, eagerly. She couldn’t believe how well this interview had gone.
“Of course, I’ll need to run a background check,” Principal Ryker continued, “but I’m assuming you have no skeletons in your closet?”
Reese shook her head, hoping her stint at Desert Cove wouldn’t show up on something like that.
“Good. Expect to hear from me on Monday or Tuesday.”
“Thank you so much.” Reese shook hands with Principal Ryker. As she turned to leave, the phone on his desk rang, and he practically shooed her out as he reached for it.
On her way out of the building, her mind was already spinning with ideas on how she could incorporate various lessons in modern and contemporary art with junk journals. She could start with Neo-Impressionism, the earliest form of contemporary art, and focus on the use of juxtaposing bright colors in order to evoke a higher sense of emotion. With everyone having camera phones these days, it wouldn’t be hard for the students to take photos of colorful scenery and use aging techniques like tea bags to give them an older look and feel.
Reese ordered an Uber using her phone and a pre-loaded gift card Garrett had given her so she would have it for things like this. As she waited for the car to arrive, ideas started flowing even faster. By the time the driver pulled into Garrett’s driveway, she had enough ideas for at least ten lesson plans.
Reese had never really wanted to teach art, much preferring to create it herself, but maybe this was the opportunity she needed to turn her life around. The only problem was that her name would likely be in the system again, which meant she wouldn’t be able to hide from Russell much longer.
