Good Enough/Crossroads Chapter 2
#2 of Crossroads
Crossroads--Chapter Two--The Art Club
"Don't move," Chance said suddenly, plopping down in his chair at the lunch table. He hurriedly withdrew his sketchbook and pencils from his backpack, looking eager and cheerful. Junior and Lexi regarded him curiously, while Benny maintained his stoic appearance.
"What?" Lexi said in confusion.
"You asked me to draw you yesterday," Chance said. "Just hold still for a minute and I'll do a quick sketch."
"Okay..." she said uncertainly.
She managed to keep herself awkwardly still, forcing herself to smile with the occasional fidget or twitch. Benny and Junior continued to talk and Chance could see that she longed to join in on the conversation, but she fought the urge. About seven minutes later, Chance finally stopped, setting his pencil down and turning the sketchbook so that she could see. He smiled at her brightly.
"Wow," she said.
"It's rough, but I hope you like it," Chance said hopefully. "It's rough, but I tried to work as quick as I could."
"That's amazing," Lexi breathed. "I know I'm a great model but... wow..."
"Thanks, I appreciate it!" Chance said, beaming as he flipped to a new page. Within a minute, he was busily sketching away on the new page and didn't bother to look up from his work. His tongue lolled awkwardly from the side of his mouth as he drew, his pencil scratching almost rhythmically as he continued to draw.
"Hey, you should join the art club," Lexi suggested. There was no reply. "Chance?" she said confusedly. "Chance," she prompted, waving in front his face.
"Chance?" Junior tried when Chance failed to respond.
Benny, swallowing a bite of apple, reached over and pulled the pencil from Chance's grasp. Chance, seemingly entranced, continued to move his paw as though he still had the pencil, pausing strangely when he noticed that no new marks were appearing on his artwork. He looked over his sketch before searching for his pencil.
"I have it," Benny said when Chance looked beneath the table.
Chance resurfaced and frowned. "Why'd you take it? I was almost done."
"What're you drawing that's got you so focused?" Lexi asked, looking over. "Who is that?"
Chance hurriedly flipped the page, hiding the sketch of that handsome, yet intimidating, bad-boy jackal. "That doesn't matter," he said embarrassedly. "What's going on?"
"I was saying you might like the art club," Lexi said. "You like to draw, you're good at it. They do a lot of drawings and charity auctions. Actually, they've got an art show coming up at the end of the month."
"Really?" Chance murmured. "Sounds interesting, but I'm not good enough to be in an art show."
"Better than me," Junior said. "And her drawings look weird."
"I'm better than you!" Lexi scoffed.
"Well, I'm a better writer."
"So, when do they meet up?" Chance asked.
Lexi was about to answer, but she fell silent. "I don't know."
"Wednesday and Friday," Benny interrupted. "They meet in Mr. Wagner's room."
"Who's Mr. Wagner?" Chance wondered.
"He teaches art classes," Lexi said. "Well, art 'theory', apparently. No clue what that means, but he teaches it."
"So, you going to join the club? I'm sure you'll love it," Junior said. "After all, your drawings are pretty cool."
"I suppose I could but I'm grounded," Chance said sadly. "There's no way my dad's going to let me have fun."
"What'd you do?" Lexi wondered. "You don't seem like the kind of cub to get into trouble."
Chance chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, it's a really uncomfortable story. Let's just say I had a problem with moving here and Dad got tired of me complaining."
"Well, you made some awesome new buds, so there's no real reason to complain, right?" Junior said with a grin.
"Right," Chance answered. "Can I have my pencil back though?"
Benny shrugged and handed it back. "What're you drawing?"
"Just some stuff," Chance said. "Amateur stuff. You wouldn't like it."
"Now I have to see," Lexi insisted. She reached over and Chance quickly pulled the notebook away, moving it out of her reach. Yet as he did so, he fell backward, his chair tipping backwards. Benny, with calm, grabbed Chance's arm, pulling forward. As Chance's chair came back down on all fours, he exhaled a sigh of relief.
"Thanks, Ben," he said.
"Chocolate. Dark chocolate. Or next time I'll let you fall."
Chance paused. "What?"
"You owe him chocolate for him saving you," Junior said. "He'll do anything for dark chocolate."
"So, Pops, how're you this morning?" Chance said Wednesday morning, standing in the doorway of the bathroom where his father was brushing his teeth. David looked over with a confused look, one eyebrow raised in intrigue. "You're looking handsome today."
David spat out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth. "What're you up to, Charles?" he asked in suspicion.
"Me? Absolutely nothing. I just--"
"No, you're still grounded," David interrupted.
"But Dad, you gotta hear me out," Chance insisted.
"About what?"
Chance took a deep breath and launched into a rapidly-spoken explanation. "Junior and Benny and Lexi told me about an art club at school that's looking for new recruits and they meet on Wednesdays and Fridays and I really want to join so that I can meet other artists and get better and--"
"Breathe!" David insisted holding up his paw to stop his son's rapid rant. "Talk slower, Chance."
Chance took a deep breath. "Can I stay after school to join the art club?"
"What art club?"
"The one at school," Chance said. "Please, I really want to join. My friends say it's a good idea and it may help me get better with my own drawings."
"Uh-huh," David said, staring at his son analytically. "What's the guy's name that has so you interested in this club?"
"There is no guy," Chance answered.
"Really?" David mused. "Is it a nice lady?"
"Dad, I'm gay," Chance huffed. "That hasn't changed."
"I can hope," David said. "And anyway, you're still grounded. Why should I let you join this club?"
"Because you want me to become a successful artist?"
"I'd rather you have a more pragmatic goal in life," David scoffed.
"Because it'd make me happy?"
"You should've thought about your happiness before you started acting like a child."
Chance sighed. "Because you know I won't stop asking until you say yes?"
"And I won't stop saying no until you give up," David responded. He turned back towards the sink and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out his contact case. "Chance, I get that your art is important to you but you're still grounded and as a parent, I can't just let you do whatever."
"Please, Dad!" Chance insisted. "I'll do anything."
"I wouldn't make a habit of saying that to people," David said, putting in one of his contacts.
"Please! I really, really want this! I'll do anything!"
David blinked twice, ensuring both of his contacts were in before he turned to face his son, arms crossed and scowling. He exhaled sharply before answering. "I should say no."
"But Dad--"
"But we're going to make a deal," David continued. "I'll allow you to go to this art club"--Chance's eyes lit with excitement--"but you have to be polite and gentlemanly to Michelle. No insults, no sarcasm, no nothing. If I see you even look at her wrong--"
"You got it!" Chance said happily, saluting. "I'll even go give her a big hug right now!"
"Reign it in, Chance," David said warningly. "You're still on thin ice."
The gym locker room stank. It smelled of sweat, masculinity, and unattractive body spray. In a word, repulsive. And as Chance entered for the first time, he found himself eager to hurry and change into his new uniform and escape the toxic air that stung his nostrils.
Although, the _sights _weren't particularly bad...
Something in him made him turn his head every few seconds and catch quick glances of his classmates changing. And there, just a few feet away, was Zack Bailey, muscular, hunky and tall, stripping off his jeans. His underwear framed his body nicely and--Why was he looking this way?
Quickly, Chance looked away, hoping--praying--that he hadn't been staring as he changed. And by the time Chance had mustered up the courage to glance again, Zack was already gone, probably out in the gym doing the usual warm-up jog.
Smooth, Chance thought darkly, thinking of the blood-chilling glare Zack had given him.Now he's going to think you're a creepy pervert...
Chance swallowed nervously as he neared Mr. Wagner's classroom, hesitating before easing the door open. School had officially ended almost ten minutes ago and Chance had spent a decent amount of time outside with his friends until finally the buses pulled off and Benny began to walk home. He had stopped by his locker to drop off his textbooks and now, with his sketchbook and assortment of pencils, he was eager, and nervous, to join the Briarwood High School Art Club.
The door was open as he approached and he stepped inside, knocking absentmindedly as he surveyed the interior. One of the room's walls allowed in lots of light through the windows and the rest of the walls were decorated with numerous drawings, paintings, sketches--hundreds of artworks done by Mr. Wagner's many students that had come through his class. The club was already seated at the tables in the room which were stained by paints and the tile floor, which Chance was sure had been white at some point, was now a rainbow of colors. Several students looked up to see who had bothered to knock on the open door, but Mr. Wagner, a leopard in a dark green smock, approached him with a smile and spoke in a thick, German accent.
"May I help you?" he asked kindly.
"I was hoping I could join the art club," Chance said shyly, glancing around. Some of the students were drawing. Others were painting on small easels. And still others eagerly coloring in their art with colored pencils. One which caught Chance's attention was one who seemed to be drawing a comic book.
"Ah, I see," Mr. Wagner said. "Of course, we welcome all kinds of artistic talent. Tell me, what is you name?"
"Charles, but I prefer to be called Chance."
"Welcome. What kind of artwork do you do?"
"Mostly just some sketches," Chance said, "nothing really amazing but..." Chance handed over his sketchbook which Mr. Wagner took, handling gently, as though afraid the entire book would turn to dust at his touch. He opened it and surveyed Chance's sketches, humming in intrigue as he analyzed it. Chance fidgeted nervously.
"These are quite impressive," Mr. Wagner said, "although I would recommend you study value a bit more." He handed the sketchbook back.
"Oh, sorry," Chance said.
"Do not apologize," Mr. Wagner said with a grin. "Everybody has something that they can work on. When I was your age, I was terrible with proportion but I worked hard and I am proud of how I do my work now. Actually, there's someone here in the club who is quite good at--Zackery!"
Chance stiffened at the sound of the name. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Zack Bailey walking in, a canvas under his arm and a small case in his free paw. Zack's eyes found Chance and he looked surprised, almost fearful, but when he spoke to Mr. Wagner, his voice was calm and kind, a tone that almost didn't seem to fit him.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Had to get my materials."
"No trouble at all," Mr. Wagner said. "I'm always glad to see you, my boy. Take your seat. I look forward to seeing what you come up with today."
Zack nodded and took an empty seat. Chance watched him curiously as he pulled an easel from beneath the table and set it on top, carefully placing his canvas on it.
"So, what'll you be drawing today?" Mr. Wagner asked Chance, breaking his focus.
"I don't know... Hadn't thought of it much..."
"There is no need to have a definite idea of what you want to draw," Mr. Wagner said. "Let your ideas come naturally, do not force them. I'll be at my desk if you need anything or you can ask anyone here to help. Zackery in particular knows this room well; he knows where I keep everything."
"Okay."
"Take any seat you like," Mr. Wagner concluded.
He walked back to his desk and Chance looked around the room. Most of the seats were already taken by other club members, who were speaking lowly to each other or to themselves, but they all seemed so concentrated on their work that the loudest sound in the room was the scratching of pencils. The only empty seats Chance saw were either across from Zack or right beside him.
Making his choice, Chance sat across from Zack, hoping that the easel was in just the right spot so that he wouldn't really be visible behind it. He glanced up; Zack had opened his case, filled with an assortment of paints, brushes and charcoal pencils; he had already started to use one of the pencils to draw, eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused so carefully on his work.
Should I say something to him? Chance wondered. He had already opened his sketchbook to a blank page and was ready to draw... but what to draw...?
He looked up once more and much to his surprise, saw that Zack was looking at him, directly and unmistakably, eyes narrowed as he looked analytically at the skinny wolf. But the glance was brief, and Zack was once more sketching with his charcoal. And in the moment his head turned once more towards his canvas, Chance saw it; an image that looked regal, noble, with the light filtering through fur and a calm expression.
He began to draw.
Mr. Wagner whistled about forty-five minutes later, gathering their attention. Many people, surprised by the noise, jumped and looked over, Chance included. But Zack seemed immune to the sound. About ten minutes ago, he had finished with his charcoal had was moving on to the paint; he continued to paint, regardless of the noise.
"Okay, guys, that's about it for today," Mr. Wagner said. "Don't forget, we'll be having our first art show of the year soon. Everybody is going to enter, right?" A wave of affirmation flowed through the room. "Excellent. I look forward to it. But the late bus will be leaving soon. So I suggest you collect your things and be ready to go."
There was a large amount of noise as many people collected their stuff or returned borrowed materials. Several students who had been painting carefully stood up, leaving their easels as they were--Chance figured that Mr. Wagner would move them to a safe location once the paint was dry. Chance checked the time on his phone--his father would be picking him up soon. He stood and was about to close his sketchbook but another paw grabbed it, turning it; Mr. Wagner looked eager to see what Chance had drawn. He glanced between the drawing and Zack and smiled.
"Nicely done," he said. "You captured him well."
Chance looked down. "Uh, thank you. But I'd better get going." He took the sketchbook and closed it. "Thanks for letting me join the club. I really appreciate it."
"It's no trouble," Mr. Wagner said warmly. "I hope you'll join us Friday as well?"
"Yep. But I gotta go, my dad's waiting on me," Chance said rapidly. "Bye."
"Bye."
Chance stood and hurried out of the room, silently thinking back. More than once, he'd caught Zack's eye.
I wonder what he was painting...
_ I wonder if he saw what I was drawing..._