Does my breath smell funny?” asked Nina.
“For the tenth time: No!” said Ada. “You smell good, you look good—very artsy. Would you relax! He’s just a person.”
“A person who is changing the face of twenty-first century art as we know it! A person who seems to have invented his own palette and sense of shape! He’s a person, yes, Ada. But not just anyone!”
“All right, all right,” said Ada. “But try to calm down anyway.”
They were going to a reception to welcome Guy Miroir. This was really just a meet and greet before his big show—none of his art would be on display yet—but it was a chance for his biggest fans, and potential buyers of his artwork, to meet the man behind the canvas. Nina couldn’t contain herself. She’d been trying to make a scarf for Miroir for the past three weeks and had driven Ada crazy with all the different versions of it. First, she based it on a piece of Miroir’s called Fundamental Mood. It was various shades of red, but mostly looked brown to Ada, because of her color blindness. Of course, she knew she couldn’t tell Nina that. Still, even though Ada had assured her friend numerous times that the scarf was beautiful, Nina didn’t believe her. She rejected it and started over. The next one was based on a different piece from the same series, called Casual Fright. The scarf was all bright green with flecks of white, Ada thought. Of course, if they were light pink, she wouldn’t have known it. That one was rejected too. Ada suspected there might have been more attempts, but Nina finally settled on a blue scarf. This one had different shades of blue, and if you looked at it up close, there were little points of yellow, like stars. It wasn’t based on any of Miroir’s work. It was Nina’s own design.
“That’s lovely,” said Ada when she saw it.
“Yeah, I think I finally got it right. I just hope Guy likes it,” said Nina. “He’s known for his scarves.”
Ada had already heard about the scarves from Nina. In fact, she’d heard about it every time she presented a new one.
“And plus, the scarf is just the intro! Once he sees I’m an artist, Guy will probably ask to see my portfolio.” It was obvious that Nina was getting a bit ahead of herself.
“You might want to call him Mr. Miroir,” said Ada’s mom. “I think he prefers it.”
“Oh yes,” said Nina. “I’m sure first names will come soon enough. We are destined to be friends. I can feel our creative energies complementing each other already!”
“It’s important to be able to separate the art from the artist, Nina,” said Ms. Lace.
But Nina wasn’t paying attention. She was folding the scarf and refolding it. First she put it in a box and tied a ribbon around it, and then she wondered if it would be better to give it to Mr. Miroir tied up like a swan. Then she thought maybe she should just be casual. Every time she tried a new form of presentation, she asked for Ada’s opinion. Every single time Ada approved. But it didn’t matter. Nina wasn’t really looking for an answer.
As they approached the gallery, Ms. Lace told the girls and Mr. Lace to go in the front without her. She had to meet Guy Miroir in the back room.
“Remember, this event is invite-only, and please, make sure your phones are put away. Mr. Miroir has very strict requirements for any public appearances.”