PAINT

I try to focus on my painting,

but it’s hard. Greg keeps

looking over and

whispering, Wow,

loud enough for me

to hear it.

I steal a few glances

at his painting,

but it’s not good.

Not even a little bit.

I paint different colors

than the ones on the vase

Mr. Langley put on his desk.

Blues and blacks and reds

that don’t look as dark as

I’d like them to, since

we’re using watercolors.

When Mr. Langley walks by,

he stops and stares. Interesting

color choice, Paulie, he says

before he moves away.

I keep dipping and swirling

until the bell rings,

until most of the kids

leave the room, until it’s just

me and Greg and Mr. Langley.