Painting

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Victoria thinks she's so clever, making fun of Lacey's art.

Submitted: November 11, 2016

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Submitted: November 11, 2016

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Painting

Hey, Lacey! Are you looking for this?”

Lacey looked up, already dreading what she would see. Just from Victoria’s voice it was obvious that she was up to no good. And as her folder didn’t seem to be in her back-pack she had a good idea what Victoria wanted to show her.

Give it back, Victoria. It’s no good to you!” Lacey didn’t want to lose her temper because that was exactly what Victoria Manbury wanted to achieve. Even now they were starting to attract an audience in the corridor.

Come on, Lacey. Don’t be shy. Art is meant to be shared, isn’t it?”

Victoria was in her element, playing to her admirers and revelling in Lacey’s discomfort. She took the folder carefully in one hand, then opened it with the other. Slowly, tauntingly, she pulled out a sheet of paper.

Victoria made a show of studying the picture, turning it first one way then the other. “Is this art?” she asked in a loud and clear voice. “Lacey, I think you’ve cheated me, pretending to be an ARTIST. Or isn’t this yours?”

Give it back, Victoria. You know I need it for today.”

Victoria took no notice of Lacey but handed the picture to one of her friends before removing another from the folder. She went through the same performance of inspecting it from various angles before dangling it out towards Lacey, waving it in front of her.

You want it? Well, come and get it then!”

Moving forward, conscious of lots of eyes on her, Lacey reached out and took hold of the corner of the drawing. As soon as she had a grip on it Victoria pulled it away. The sound of ripping paper seemed to resonate throughout the hallway and most of the spectators started moving away. Teasing and taunting was one thing but actually destroying someone’s work......

No!” Lacey hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it escaped her lips before she could stop it. And when she saw the other sheet dropped to the floor and trampled on she couldn’t hold back the tears.

Oh, no! Lacey, look what you’ve done!” Victoria’s voice dripped with false sympathy. “But there’s no point crying over......torn paper.”

Turning away, she dropped the folder and caught up with her friends. Their laughter drifted back to Lacey as she bent down to retrieve what remained of her portfolio.

* * * * *

The following week Lacey was not surprised to see Victoria, flanked by four of her friends, waiting for her arrival.

Look, girls! It’s the ARTIST! Come on, Lacey, don’t be shy. Let’s see your latest masterpiece.” Victoria made a grab for Lacey’s folder and Lacey put up a good effort to keep it from her. Not good enough though, as the folder again ended up in Victoria’s hands.

Come on, girls, gather round and lets have a little sneak preview.” Victoria opened the folder but there was only one sheet of paper inside it this time. “A bit thin on inspiration this week, were you, Lacey? Never mind.”

Lacey held her breath. Could she really pull this off? “No, Victoria. Leave it alone. It’s mine and it’s not finished and.....”

Victoria unfolded the sheet of paper to find herself being assaulted by a cloud of strong pepper. The sneeze was violent and instantaneous, and Victoria’s eyes began to stream. She instinctively reached up a hand to wipe at her face, only to find that her fingers were daubed with fluorescent lime and orange paint that was now smeared all over her face.

Take a good look, Victoria, it’s a portrait I painted of you!”

Lacey laughed out loud, the other girls gasped and Victoria stood there horrified. She looked at her fingers, she looked at the face in the painting, mascara running in streaks that mingled with garish paint. And she realised that she had been set up.

You’ve not heard the end of this, Lacey.” Victoria was livid, barely able to control herself from launching into attack.

The sound of the doors opening and more students approaching made Victoria pause then turn away. Quickly she rushed to the restroom to try to remove some of the visible damage, to restore her make-up, to make herself presentable.

As Lacey carefully screwed up the painting and put it in the bin, she called out to the five retreating girls. “Oh, by the way, Victoria. That paint is permanent. And in case you don’t have your dictionary handy, that means it does not wash off! Have fun.”

 


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