41. PURRFECT DESIGN
Prologue
Jayme Ziccardi was having a hard time focusing on her assignment. Making a still life drawing of a stuffed bird had sounded a lot easier than it actually was. It had also sounded a lot less boring. It wasn’t lack of talent that caused Jayme to dawdle, though, since pretty much everyone agreed that Jayme was extraordinarily talented. The problem was that there were other things she wanted to draw. Like her own comic, for instance.
And as she stared out the window, which offered a stunning view of the garden of the Gardner Institute of Art where she was currently enrolled, she couldn’t help but wonder if this really was the way to proceed. Ivan, a boy her age, who was sitting next to her and had almost finished with his assignment, glanced over in her direction, trying to catch her eye. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he liked her, but since he had a girlfriend, that probably wasn’t the case.
“Pssst,” Ivan said. “Having trouble?”
She glanced to the front of the class, where Mr. Cabanes was reading a book on human anatomy, and nodded.
“The trick is to start with the head,” said Ivan. “Start with the head, then work your way down.” He gave her an encouraging wink. “You can’t miss.”
She took a look at his drawing, and saw that the head of his bird was the same size as the rest of its body, so even though in theory what he said might hold a kernel of truth, clearly something had gone wrong in the execution.
But instead of offering him constructive criticism, she gave him a thumbs up.
“Thanks for the tip, Ivan.”
He swelled with pride.“That’s all right. Us newbies have to stick up for each other.”
Ivan was a recent addition to the class, and had admitted to her the week before that the only reason he’d signed up was because his mom, who was an artist, had insisted.
Once again she started on the arduous work of producing a lifelike rendition of that bird, but then movement caught her eye and she saw that an actual bird had settled on the windowsill and was looking up at her, its head cocked and a curious glint in its eyes.
She blinked and smiled, then held up a hand in wave.
“Jayme, Jayme, Jayme,” suddenly a voice sounded behind her. She jerked up, and immediately her feathered little friend fluttered off and was gone.
“Hi, Mr. Cabanes,” she said. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her, but then the man had a habit of sneaking around. He wore tennis shoes, and was light on his feet.
He studied her work for a moment, then leaned in and whispered,“Look, I know this isn’t the sexiest assignment, but it’s part of the curriculum so I have to teach it. Besides, if you don’t master the basics, how are you going to do your other work?”
She glanced up into the man’s face, and caught that trademark twinkle in his eye.
“What other work?” she asked innocently.
Without a word, he lifted the drawing she’d been slaving over and took out the cartoon she’d been working on. She tried to grab it but the teacher was too quick for her.
And as he studied it, she sat there, slightly breathless with anticipation.
Finally a light chuckle sounded, indicating that Mr. Cabanes liked what he saw.
“This is pretty good, Jayme,” he said. “Is this an original or a copy?”
She gave him a look of indignation.“I would never copy someone else’s stuff.”
“Oh, but it’s fine if you do. We all have to start somewhere, and most artists start by copying the work of the artists they admire, then gradually discover their own style.” He handed her back the three-panel comic strip of a giraffe and his best friend the lion cub. She’d dubbed it Mike and Spike, and this was already the fourth in a new series.
“Well, I do feel inspired by one artist,” she admitted.
“I know,” he said. “I can tell from your work.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Dave James?”
She nodded.“I try not to copy him, though. I want to create my own comic strip.”
“Well, your work definitely shows promise.”
She flashed him a smile of gratitude.“Thank you, sir.”
“Look, I know these still lifes aren’t what you signed up for, but I can assure you they’ll be a big help later on.”
“But, sir, I want to be a comic artist. So how is drawing dead birds going to help me?”
“Patience, my dear,” he said as he glanced toward the door, where some kind of ruckus was taking place. “Just do the work now, and you’ll reap the rewards later—trust me.”
Before she could reply, he was walking to the front of the class, moving as noiselessly as ever.
She heaved a little sigh, tucked away her latest Mike and Spike effort and set about to try and finish drawing that darn bird. And she’d just put pencil to paper when suddenly the door swung open and a woman stormed in, followed by Mr. Cabanes, who seemed to have been trying to stop her.
“Jayme Ricardo!” the woman said as she raked Jayme’s fellow students with an icy look in her eyes. “Who is Jayme Ricardo?”
“Please, ma’am,” said Mr. Cabanes. “You can’t just come barging in here and—”
