XVI. Jane, September 24
Eighth block was the best part of the school day for Jane, and not just because it was the final class of the day. This last class was Fine Art 1 with Mrs. Radcliffe. Not only was Mrs. Radcliffe the nicest teacher Jane had yet encountered at Walt Disney High School, but art was also her favorite subject. She looked forward to taking as many art classes as her open electives would allow during her four years here. That would at least make the prospect of going to the school that her father taught biology at manageable. It wasn't that she didn't like her father. The two actually got along quite well, but that didn't really make a difference. Knowing that her father could easily be keeping watch on her all the time was a bit unnerving, even though Jane wasn't one to do anything her father wouldn't approve of. Still, it would be nice to know that if she did want to do something just a little bit out of line, she would be able to get away with it. That's what high school is all about, right?
The other thing that made Fine Art the best part of Jane's day was the boy she had told Tiger Lily about. She already regretted telling someone, just a little bit—something about having a secret crush was thrilling in its own way. Regardless, it didn't inhibit her ability to admire him from afar. On first glance, he looked like a little bit of a bad boy—long dreadlocks, angular features, dark eyes. But Jane knew better than to judge a book by its cover. She hadn't interacted with him one-on-one per se—okay, she hadn't even been within a few feet of him—but had learned a couple of things about him. He didn't answer questions unless called on, and it was clear he didn't know much of anything about art. Jane didn't get the impression that he was stupid, though—just that he didn't know the topic. She had gathered from the blonde girl who sat at his table's gossipy chatter that he was a senior on the football team. And she knew that his name was Tarzan. But that was the extent of her knowledge about the mysterious older boy—and probably always would be, she figured. And that was okay.
"Hello class!" Mrs. Radcliffe walked into the room dressed in several shades of blue. "How is everyone today?"
A few people made grumbling noises, but there was no coherent response.
"That's no good," Mrs. Radcliffe said, tying on a purple waist apron with pockets that she kept art supplies in. "Hopefully doing some portraits will cheer you all up!"
A couple of people groaned.
"Well, you can't blame me for trying," Mrs. Radcliffe shrugged. "That's what we'll be doing today—portraits. So I'm going to have you pair up—" A couple of people got up or began moving their chairs, but Mrs. Radcliffe. "Ah, but I can't make it that easy. I decided on pairings for all of you to make this project more challenging. I know, I know, I'm sorry—but if you weren't learning anything, I wouldn't be doing my job! Here's what I'm going to have you all do: after I've paired you up today and finished explaining the assignment, one of you will begin drawing the other. On Monday, you'll switch, and so on until… next Friday, October 1. I think that's when I'll have it be due. If anyone needs additional time, as always I'll be willing to discuss it."
She went on to describe her expectations about the project and the tools which the students would be allowed to use to create the portraits. Jane was excited. She had done self-portraits in elementary school and she had drawn pictures of her father, but she had never had the opportunity to sit down with another person her age and just draw them. She wondered who she would be partnered with. Of course, she hoped it would be Tarzan—not just because of her attraction to him, but because his features were so distinctive and would undoubtedly be interesting to draw.
"Okay, time to pair you up," Mrs. Radcliffe reached for a clipboard on her desk and flipped back a few pages. "First up is… Lottie and Flynn."
Lottie—the blonde who usually sat with Tarzan—squealed and leapt from her chair to go and sit by Flynn.
"It will be a privilege to get to draw such a handsome man," Lottie said in a light and flirtatious manner.
"The pleasure is all mine," Flynn said with what was probably considered a dashing smile.
Jane couldn't help but roll her eyes at the small disruption, then listened intently as the rest of the list was called. Finally Mrs. Radcliffe reached her name.
"Jane, you'll be working with… Tarzan," she announced.
Jane kept herself composed, not wanting to betray her excitement to the rest of the class. She glanced over at Tarzan, and saw that he was looking at her—he knew who she was! She had been afraid, for a moment, that he wouldn't even know who he was paired with. But he was looking right at her. She gave him a subtle smile, and then looked back at Mrs. Radcliffe. Unsure if he was still looking at her, she kept herself composed and sat up straight. She waited until Mrs. Radcliffe had finished calling all of the students' names to move over to Lottie's old seat at Tarzan's table.
"Hi, I'm Jane," she said as she sat down.
"I know," he said, and she felt like her heart was going to leap out of her chest from how hard it was beating.
Mrs. Radcliffe was going around the room putting paper, pencils, and erasers on all of the tables, starting with the tables on the opposite side of the room. Tarzan was looking at the table and Jane tried not to stare at him too much—she would get to do plenty of that once they started working.
"So… do you like art, Tarzan?" Jane asked, wanting to get a conversation started and alleviate any potential future awkwardness.
He shrugged. This was going to be a long week.
"Well… I like it," Jane said. "It's my favorite subject. What do you like?"
"I like… gym," Tarzan said.
"Is that all you like?" Jane asked, hoping she didn't sound too frustrated—it was like pulling teeth.
"History can be good," Tarzan responded after a moment's pause. "And Literature, sometimes. History is best, though. I don't have any history classes this year."
"I like history, too," Jane said. "I have World History with Mr. Ratcliffe right now."
"I liked that class," Tarzan said. "But Mr. Ratcliffe is a dick."
"Yes," Jane said, laughing involuntarily. "Yes, yes, he is—that sometimes. Most of the time, actually."
Mrs. Radcliffe finally reached their table and put the necessary materials down. Jane grabbed an easel from the counter at the back of the room and brought it back to the table.
"Did you want to go first or should I?" Jane asked, although she had assumed she would start, clearly being the one who was more enthused about the task.
"You go ahead," Tarzan said.
Jane set up the easel at a convenient angle to where Tarzan was sitting and clipped the paper to it. She picked up the pencil and began sketching lightly.
"You like drawing?"
"Well yes," Jane shrugged, concentrated on the work she was doing.
"I don't want to draw you," Tarzan said.
Jane tried not to let the annoyance she felt at those words show on her face. What was that supposed to mean? Was that some thinly veiled insult—he just didn't want to have to look at her? She should've known better—football players were known for being rather brutish, and there was truth in every stereotype. Still, as always, Jane kept her composure.
"Any particular reason why?" Jane asked, trying not to press down too hard on the pencil.
"You're very pretty," Tarzan said, as though that was an explanation.
Jane felt her face growing hot. She hadn't been expecting that at all. She knew she was blushing profusely and wished she could somehow hide her face. She tried to position herself behind the easel so Tarzan could see as little of her face as possible as she tried to formulate a response. Surely that was some kind of cruel joke—but it didn't sound like one. And Jane couldn't imagine what it had to do with Tarzan not wanting to draw her.
"I—thank you, Tarzan," Jane said. "That's very nice. But why don't you want to draw me?"
"That is why," Tarzan said. "I'm not good at drawing—if I draw you, the drawing won't be as pretty as you are. I don't see the point—I'd rather take a picture."
Jane cleared her throat to stop herself from potentially choking in surprise.
"That's… sweet," Jane said, and it was—one of the sweetest things anyone had said to her, as far as she could remember. "You really just need practice though—perhaps I could help you. I can walk you through the basics of drawing, and then your drawing won't be so bad. The more practice you get, the better you'll be. But if you never try… well then, you'll never be any good."
"I guess," Tarzan said.
Jane figured she might as well take a chance—now seemed as good a time as any.
"Maybe I could give you some pointers… after school sometime?" she suggested, trying to sound casual.
"Maybe we could do that this weekend," Tarzan said, then quickly added, "I mean… if you're not busy. It's Friday, I'm sure you have—"
"No, this weekend is great!" Jane blurted before she could shut herself up. "Um, perhaps we could… meet up at the café and I could… show you over coffee?"
Jane could hardly believe how forward she was being. She didn't mean for it to sound like she was asking him on a date, but that was the way it came out. She just kind of hoped that he didn't hear it that way, since it wasn't even what she had intended. Or, alternately, if he did hear it that way, she hoped that he would be partial to the idea and would accept. But either way if he accepted she wouldn't know which way he had heard it and therefore could never be sure whether the meeting was intended as a date or not. What a mess.
"I would like that," Tarzan said.
Jane just smiled, not sure of what else she could say on the subject without putting her foot in her mouth.
"Jane—impressive!" Mrs. Radcliffe said as she came to Tarzan and Jane's table as she was making her rounds. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
"I like to draw in my spare time," Jane smiled. "I draw animals and plants the most, but… I'll really draw anything."
"Let me see," Tarzan said, peeking around the easel to look at the outline of his face on the page. "Wow—you really are good."
"Keep it up!" Mrs. Radcliffe said, giving Jane an encouraging pat on the shoulder before moving on to the next table.
Jane and Tarzan said very little for the rest of the class, but Jane felt that Tarzan was watching her intently the whole time. Of course, it could have just been that he was looking at her because he kind of had to for the assignment, but Jane felt that it was more than that—or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Still, something about his dark eyes made his gaze seem profound whether it was or not.
At the end of class, Tarzan gave Jane his number on a scrap of paper so that they could set up a time to meet up on Sunday. Jane clutched the crumpled slip of paper tightly in her hand as the bell rang and all the students filed out, rushing to their buses. She took her time wandering slowly down the hallway. Once the hallways were relatively clear, she took her cell phone out and put the number into it, finally putting the paper into the pocket of her skirt. On second thought, she took it out and tossed it in a waste basket—she wouldn't want her father to find it and ask questions. All her friends up to this point had been girls and she wasn't sure at all how her father would react to the idea of her having a male companion, never mind a potential date. She shook her head at herself—she was being silly. She had no reason to believe that Tarzan was interested in her in that way. Except that he had called her pretty. And asked to hang out that weekend. And stared at her with those eyes. Okay, so there was potential. And she had a crush.
She knocked on the doorframe of the biology classroom, standing under the arch. Mr. Porter looked up from the papers at his desk and leapt up. He hurried over and gave Jane a hug, which she leaned down to return.
"Oh, Jane, my dear, how was your day?"
"It was wonderful, Daddy—I mean, it was good," she said, sitting down at one of the desks.
"Wonderful, eh?" Mr. Porter inquired, raising his bushy gray eyebrows.
"It was just—art class was very good," Jane said. "We're doing portraits now, and I'm very excited about it. Mrs. Radcliffe is a wonderful teacher…"
"Yes, she is quite a nice lady," Mr. Porter said. "She's married to the music teacher—I don't know if you knew that."
"I'd heard," Jane nodded.
"They've got quite a number of dogs, or so I've been told," Mr. Porter mused. "That clothing construction teacher—Ms. de Vil, she's always going on about them."
"I've heard she can be rather nasty," Jane said. "I don't understand why they've got her teaching just the clothing classes—I mean, there's just not much demand for art classes at this school, do they really need any more than Mrs. Radcliffe?"
"Well, I really ought not to talk about other members of the faculty, but…" Mr. Porter looked around, then walked over to close the door. "Ms. de Vil has worked here for a long while, and I think they mainly keep her around because… they can't really fire her at this point, she's been here for so long. So they just let her teach the one class and then they don't have to deal with the hassle of letting her go."
"There are a disproportionate number of really bad teachers at this school," Jane said.
"I know," Mr. Porter said. "I wish I'd gotten a job somewhere a bit… nicer. But the good teachers make up for it pretty nicely, I think. And however… evil… the teachers might be, the quality of education is unarguably quite good. Colleges seem to like us, anyway."
"Oh, don't worry, Daddy," Jane assured him. "I wouldn't want to leave here anyway. I couldn't leave the friends I've made, and I think… I'm making some new ones as well."
"Glad to hear it," Mr. Porter smiled and his mustache twitched. "I'm going to be about ten minutes to gather my things together, do you want to wait outside for me? It's a beautiful day, or so I've heard."
"Sure," Jane said.
She leaned over and gave her father a kiss on the forehead, then headed out and sat on the curb outside the building. It was a nice day. The sun was shining, there were only a few puffy white clouds in the sky, and this weekend was going to be phenomenal, she was sure of it. She took out her phone and opened her contact list. She scrolled down to "T"—there was Tarzan's name. She felt a small surge of excitement at the very idea that she had his number in his phone. She scrolled down to "Tiger" and opened the screen to send a text.
He gave me his number!