Sixteen

IT DIDN’T SEEM like I’d been punished until I had to get up to go to Pilates on Saturday morning. Just getting out of bed was punishment enough, but Lissa pointed at the keys to the car and said to be back by noon, then she and Melody snuggled back into bed. There was no sign of Lexi. I assumed she’d returned last night. Molly had stayed with the kids at Jack’s house. This morning it was just me making coffee and eating toast. I got to the club in plenty of time and then the Pilates instructor worked my ass off manipulating muscles that I hadn’t worked in a week. I was still sore from my light workout Friday afternoon and in spite of feeling more energized, the Pilates hadn’t eased my pain. I dragged myself into the steam room and dozed in the heat and moisture.

I got showered, rewrapped my ankle, and took another anti-inflammatory. I looked almost human when I returned to pick up everyone for the trip to the airport. That’s more than I could say for the three women who dragged themselves out to the car. After an emotional goodbye at the airport security line, Lexi was gone and I looked forward to life returning to normal—whatever that was.

It was a crazy hectic week. We got the official invitation to Bree’s party on Monday. She was going all out. “Welcome Pacific College of the Arts and Design student and Intercollegiate National Racquetball competitor Tony Ames to Seattle Cascades University at 8:00 p.m. at Coach Sam Jacobson’s house. Refreshments will be served, but no alcohol or drugs will be allowed on the premises. Attire is semiformal (cocktail dresses, jackets and ties). A special contest will be held to guess the identity of Tony’s girlfriend. Film clips and sketches from the USAR Intercollegiate National Championships in which Tony was the bronze medalist will be on display.”

“Holy shit! What’s with the big deal?” I asked as we looked over the invite. “I thought Bree was just having a party for a few friends. This looks serious.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Lissa said. “I’m not sure I want to be in a contest to identify Tony’s girlfriend, especially if Bree is running it.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Melody said. “I worked out the details with Bree before she sent out the invites. There won’t be any danger of our relationship being exposed. I talked to Coach Jacobson as well.”

“I don’t want my girlfriend selected by a vote,” I said. “I’m pretty happy with the ones I’ve got.”

“They’re not voting, they’re guessing. It will be fun.”

“If you say so.”

My preliminary portfolio review did not go well.

Art History and Art Orientation would have final exams. Fundamentals, Concepts, and Figure Painting had final projects. I was supposed to be able to show my progress through my portfolio and then the review committee would determine if I should continue on my current course of study or if adjustments should be made. They would be the final arbiters of my grades. My committee comprised Professor McIntyre, Dr. Henredon, and Abe Ardmore, the chairman of the Studio Arts Department. My preliminary review was with my advisor, Professor McIntyre. Hers was the only class for which my final project was complete as she had agreed to take my concept sketches and finished work on the mural as my final painting.

“Tony, your portfolio doesn’t show anywhere near the progress you’ve made this year. Your presentations for Fundamentals are unspectacular. You are lacking significant examples from Visual Concepts, and you have nothing at all from your Art Orientation class. Frankly, if this were your final review, we’d reduce all your grades except Life Drawing/Painting a letter grade across the board.”

“A letter grade?” I was stunned. My final review was scheduled for next week since I’d be missing the last week of school for National Singles. “What do I need to do?” I was near panic already. Losing a letter would mean that I positively wouldn’t make a B average for the semester.

“You need to complete your portfolio in a professional presentation format. It needs to show progress from your earliest work in each class to your latest work. You should have been maintaining this portfolio all through the year, Tony. This is sloppy work. Just in case you’ve mislaid it, here are the criteria that were handed out during orientation last fall.”

“I’ll fix it,” I said, taking the sheet. How did this become such a big deal? Damn, I hate this fucking school.

“Oh, and the student exhibition opens a week from Friday. With the splash you made with the mural, you should really have more than one piece in it. Your choice. But we need all the pieces you’ll be exhibiting by end of day Wednesday.”

“Thank you.” I left her office feeling stunned. I knew I needed to add more to my portfolio, but I didn’t expect her to come down so hard on me. Shit, if I lost a letter grade in every class there’s no way I’d qualify for my scholarship. I headed back to my room to start gathering stuff up.

“Damn it, Melody. Stop it! This is serious. If I don’t finish this and get it right, I won’t even be able to come back next year.” I had piles of material spread out all over the bed and was redoing one of my portrait sketches. It was an early sketch and wasn’t anywhere near my best work.

“I don’t get it. You’ve done all the work. Just put it in the portfolio.”

“Do you know how much they count portfolio review?”

“Yeah. Thirty percent of grade. So, what did she say?”

“She said my Fundamentals presentations were so-so, I was missing significant pieces from Concepts, and didn’t have anything from Art Orientation. If it was my final review, they’d knock a letter grade off everything except Life Drawing/Painting.” There, that ought to let her know how serious this was. I let it sink in with a smirk. I wasn’t expecting the blow-up that was about to happen.

“So why the fuck are you redrawing a sketch for Life Drawing from last semester?”

“I saw it and it needed work.”

“It didn’t need work. Nothing in Life Drawing/Painting needs work. You’ve got that class nailed. Why the fuck aren’t you pulling out your Art Orientation stuff and your Concepts stuff? Geez, Tony! Wake up!”

“And I suppose you’ve got everything in perfect order.” I yelled back at her.

“Yes. There’s nothing spectacular in my portfolio like there is in yours, but it shows the progress I’ve made this year. It’s not that big a deal.”