Casey, like the rest of her class, stood in front of her taboret in the studio, the mid-morning’s blue skies reminding her of the sunny day outside, even if the windows faced north. Stefan had asked them to mix the correct proportion of burnt umber and ultramarine blue on their palettes to create a chromatic black. They’d be using it to make the nine values of gray for their grisaille.
“Make enough of each value so that they’re ready to go, and you don’t have to do this each time you start a painting.” Stefan raised his voice so they could hear him as he walked around. “Remember, we squint to see value and open our eyes wide to see color.”
He set down a large, but what appeared to be lightweight, box on the model stand in the middle of the ring of stations. “Here are the empty tubes. Once your mixtures are correct, use your palette knife to load the tubes and crimp the ends shut.”
“Why are we doing this again?”
Jenna often seemed lost, but Casey liked her. She’d asked to look at Casey’s laptop every day the first week until Casey offered to send her a copy of her notes. Now she used a scanner app to send Jenna daily shots of the sketchbook in which she handwrote almost everything. Jenna had confided she couldn’t write or type fast enough or sometimes didn’t grasp the concepts. Either way, Casey didn’t mind sharing. Jenna was a decent artist, but everything seemed to overwhelm her. Plus, her heart didn’t seem invested in the instruction the way Casey’s and most of the other students’ were.
“Good question, Jenna. In the future, or at least for this section of the syllabus, you’ll lay out your gray values at the top of your palette to neutralize other colors.”
“Should we label the tubes before or after?” Devin scratched his ear with a Sharpie.
Casey made a mental note never to borrow one from him.
“I label each one after I fill it. You should also brush a streak of the color on the outside of the tube as a reminder of that value. I find it more helpful than wondering what that value looks like. And don’t forget to tube your chromatic black. You should end up with ten tubes, people.”
“Yo, why can’t we use ivory black and titanium white to make our grays? It’d be a lot faster.” Jaiden flashed Stefan a grin like he might get away using a shortcut with his perfect teeth and boyish charm.
“Does anyone know?” Stefan looked around.
Casey spoke once no one else had. “Because ivory black is a cool color, and depending on the brand you use, the temperature can vary. By mixing our own, we assure it’s a neutral black.” She congratulated herself, not for her answer, but for sounding confident. It was often an outward appearance she needed to fabricate.
“Very good, Casey. That’s right.” Stefan gave her taboret a little thump with his fist.
A ding sounded. Leighton strode into the studio and seemed to assess the scene before her. Without as much as a good morning to anyone, she slung her bag from one shoulder to the other.
“Mikala, your halftones should be in the two to three range on the value scale, not four or five. Are you matching them to the Munsell chips?” Without breaking stride, Leighton glared at her.
“N-not yet.”
Mikala’s stammered words and wide eyes mirrored Casey’s surprise at Leighton’s tone.
“I can’t imagine why you aren’t.” Leighton glanced over her shoulder as she admonished her. “I assume Stefan hasn’t neglected to mention that important step this morning. Why waste your time by taking shortcuts?”
Her tone caused most of the students to stop what they were doing. Even Stefan stared at her. Only Phoenix seemed oblivious to the mood that had darkened the room as he bopped his head to a song only he could hear. Leighton flew past Casey without a glance.
“It’s somebody’s time of the month.” Devin’s grumble drew glares from all the women and some guys. He mumbled an apology and resumed mixing paint.
In her office, Leighton flung items from her bag onto her desk, making Casey start with each thump. This wasn’t like her. What had caused her sudden change in behavior?
The jovial atmosphere that had existed in the studio had dissipated. On any other day, joy suffused Casey while here, but Leighton’s mood had soured it. Casey loved learning and being immersed in art. Here, the people who surrounded her understood the history and the challenge of creation. She fit in for the first time in her life. Now drudgery replaced that buoyant feeling.
She sighed and used her palette knife to smear a small pile of ultramarine blue into the three dots of burnt umber she’d squeezed beside it. The flapping of a pigeon’s wings against the glass high above made her glance up. Beside the window, the green indicator light on the camera in the corner caught her attention.
Shit. Her stomach dropped. Leighton was in a mood for a reason. Last night’s kiss hadn’t gone unnoticed.