The Severis Tales 6: Terrence Gets Painted

The Severis Tales

6: Terrence Gets Painted

(C)2019.12 Patrick Rivers

It was one of those events that defined them, an event of consequence and secrecy. It was their first taste of fame; and with that, they all learned a lesson that, for a few of them, would be taught the hard way. Against all those odds, however, it would turn out alright, and their lives would return to normal. This is the story about four friends, a woman, and a painting.

The new year passed its first month, and Algenon began the month of Felis (February to you and me) of the year 1104. The cold, wintry force of nature continued its campaign to make life difficult and miserable for those in the northern hemisphere. The loneliness of the dull, grey skies and the longing for the green lush grass of spring has brought down a few, but many will not give up so easily to nature’s will.

So, as it happens, the month of Felis holds the annual Barlett College Senior Student Art Exhibit, a showcase of final paint projects that would be shown to the world. Media and art enthusiasts from across Caldore—even some from abroad—come to see the paintings selected for the exhibit. This year, the event is held from Saturnday, Felis 7, to Fridas, Felis 13, and is held in the great hall of the College, the main area of the commons building, where the hallways branch off to lecture halls and other parts of the College.

For Leah Evans, the twenty-four-year-old student in her fifth and final year, she wanted something that would stand out for years to come. Leah comes from a family of painters on her father’s side: Leyton Evans, her father, is a famous landscape oil painter from far up north. Leah, with a little support from her father, wished to continue that family legacy and become an artist herself, and this would be the year to show him it was worth those five years.

#

And so, on Mondas, Felis 2, Leah set out in search for the perfect scene. She wanted to do a portrait of another college student–one who had the perfect figure and posture, one who would differentiate from the others, and one who was unique in their field. She began her search in the early morning, watching the students in the courtyard, in the commons, in the hallways of the dorms, in the lecture halls, and even in the grand library. She watched these places for hours, sitting idle like a birdwatcher waiting for that rare breed to cross her line of sight.

Then, just as she was about to give up, Leah found it. She discovered the best painting she would create in her college years: coming into the commons from the lecture hall for the new astronomy sciences, Terrence Howard, the nineteen-year-old look-a-like nerd, chatting to Larry Severis as they walked into the great hall. Her hazelnut eyes widened as she absorbed his brown school uniform, his tie, his wool overcoat, his curly brown hair, and his black square-framed spectacles.

“That’s it! Yes!” she shouted in joy. Observing his walk and his stride, it became clear he was the perfect subject.

Leah felt so euphoric over the discovery, she fell hard back to the ground when she realized something else: she would have to ask Terrence, and that was a problem, as talking was not much her thing. She usually keeps to herself and socializes only when necessary. Her father was the same way–plenty of talking in the family, but when out in public, he would say very little.

She was not going to let that get in the way; so, she waited until Larry departed, then she approached Terrence with a wobble in her step. It dawned on her that she was five years his senior, and some find that age gap a little awkward, especially when the lady is older. This made her nervous and hesitant. Nonetheless, she approached him as he read the local newspaper, The Barlett Chronicle, at a table near the centre of the hall.

Said Leah, nervously, “Um, excuse me–may I talk to you for a moment?”

Terrence looked up from his newspaper. “Hello? Oh hello!” He looked up at her short blonde hair poking out from her blue bandanna. “C-c-can I…can I help you?” he stuttered.

“My name is Leah Evans. I’m a fifth-year senior art student,” she said, holding her nerve. “I’m an oil painter, and I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

Leah twiddled her thumbs. “Well, the College is holding their annual senior student exhibit, and I’ve been selected to take part. I was wondering if I could…you know…”

Said Terrence, taking his glasses off, “Paint me naked?”

Leah waved her hands. “No, no, no! Not like that! I saw you walk out from that hallway with such great pose, I thought you would be a fantastic subject for a portrait.”

“I see,” said Terrence, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “My own portrait, eh? I always wanted one of those. Not to sound egotistic, but I always liked the idea.”

Leah noticed the star charts on the table, along with a textbook on maths. “So, you like the night sky as well, hm? I think I have a great idea for a scene—that is, if you wish to partake.”

Terrence noticed her eye movements. It did sound like a pick-up for a date and it made her nervous; but he realized the genuineness of the request, and he relaxed. “What do I need to do, if I go along?” he asked.

“Come exactly as you are, with those books and charts. Bring that wool coat as well,” she replied casually. “What I intend to do is sketch you and the setting, make notes and jot down colour references, then I will begin painting in a studio. On Saturnday, you will unveil the painting with me. I’m sure you will be pleased with the result. Um…what’s your name?”

“Terrence Howard,” he said, smiling. “So, a painting that is of me, which is, no pun intended, astronomical, and I would be the talk of the college for a few days?” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “An interesting offer. I accept, Ms. Evans.”

Leah smiled and shook his hand wildly. “Thank you so much! Tomorrow at six in the evening, meet me in the old corridor that links the east dorm wing and the gardens out back. You know the one, right?”

Terrence nodded.

“Great! I shall you see you then!”

“Will do. See you then!” said Terrence. He watched her walk excitedly out to the dorm area in the east. He took a heavy sigh, then went back to his own dorm room.

#

The next day at noon, Terrence had lunch with Janessa Vendyor, the niece of Brackneed Vendyor. As usual, they talked about whatever the day presented, along with other gossip and nonsense. It was inevitable, then, that the topic of the painting would come up.

“Leah Evans?” said Janessa with her gravelly, high-whine voice, and with a mouth full of salad. “I remember her. She did a painting of me last year. I thought it was rubbish.”

Terrence raised an eyebrow. “That was the one about your ponytail, wasn’t it? I thought it looked rather good,” he said.

“Yes, and I hated it!” she said with a frown.

Terrence chuckled. “Oh, come on—it’s not that bad. I read about it in a college article about shadows and hair, and your painting was cited as an example.”

“But it was just my hair!” she whined. “Oh, yeah, my name was in the title, but that’s the only indication you’d know it was me!”

“And your ponytail is the biggest thing about you,” he joked.

Janessa huffed. “Like you’ll ever know! Why did you bring her up, anyway?” Terrence told her. She dropped the fork onto the plate, and the lettuce dropped out of her mouth. “You what?” she said, dumbfounded.

“I’m being painted!” he said happily.

Janessa tilted her head. “Naked?” she asked.

The moment of happiness slipped out of Terrence in the form of a frustrated exhale. “No, Janessa, not naked. She’s doing a nighttime portrait of me. She saw me coming out of a lecture hall, and she thought it would be great!”

“You look like a geek with shrubbery for hair,” she said sharply. “This is for the art exhibit, isn’t it? Did you ever think that, if the painting was terrible, you would be on the receiving end of it as well? Or, are you doing this to impress that woman?”

“I’ve thought about it, and no, I’m not doing it to impress her,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Come on–show a little faith, will you?”

Janessa stood up. “Fine! I have to go now,” As she darted from the mess hall, she shouted behind her, “Good luck!”

Terrence rested his head in his hand and sighed. “I’m not doing it to impress her!” he said to himself. He began to wonder if it was a sign, a sign that Janessa was trying to tell him something, but one he would ultimately ignore.

#

That evening, Terrence waited with his wool coat, uniform, textbooks and star charts at the corridor Leah specified. It was surprisingly warm despite the clear sky. There was no moon, and the sky was full of stars, waiting for their moment to shine in the beautiful painting that was to be.

The clock ticked closer to six in the evening. At five minutes past, he was getting impatient. He was considering leaving, when suddenly, Leah came bobbing along with an easel, several pencils, a block of notes, and other things he dared not identify.

“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” said Terrence as he moved toward her.

“So sorry. Had to collect a bunch of tools, and I forgot where I put a few things,” Leah replied, setting up her easel. She spread out several thicknesses of pencils and charcoal, set her blank notes to the side, along with an eraser and some clips. “Okay, let’s get on with it. Let’s get you in the right position…”

“Huh?” Before he knew it, Terrence was being physically manipulated. Leah constantly measured imaginary lines between the walls and the floor and him, while moving his arms, legs, and face into position. He noted the rough texture of her warm hands. They were the hands of experience and workmanship.

The last thing Leah did was smooth out his tie and flap out his wool coat. She stood back, and she smiled. It was just as she imagined: Terrence Howard, looking up into the starry night sky, with his charts and books in his left hand, with his right hand in the pocket of the coat. “Perfect,” she said, getting behind the easel.

“How long do I have to keep this pose for?” asked Terrence, keeping still.

“Until I finish, Mr. Howard,” said Leah. “Keep talking to me. It helps keep your posture in place.”

Terrence didn’t know what to say. Up until yesterday, he had no formal contact with this woman, nor has he seen her around the college before; but he had to say something, and the awkward silence was becoming intense.

“You know about Larry Severis?” he finally said.

“I know of him, yes,” said Leah. “He’s an odd one. Quieter than me, I must say. I often hear about what people think of him. I’m finished with the broad outline of the background, filling in a few details.”

Terrence cocked his head back and forth. “He’s a good guy, I guess. He does get a lot of flack and talk behind his back. It took a lot of convincing, apparently, to get him here, to the college.”

Leah looked back and forth between the paper and Terrence. “My older sister is like him. Not that she looks like him, but she was picked on in her early days. She suffers from terrible anxiety and stress. People were definitely not kind to her.”

“That’s sad,” said Terrence. “Why was that?”

“I don’t think I ever found out,” Leah replied, peeking above the easel. “I’m starting on your outline. She’s a kind soul, but very fragile. Larry doesn’t seem the type to give up, does he?”

“He’s in the same program as me; and to be honest, once you get to know him, he’s nothing like what others make him out to be. ‘Lazy’ is the word that comes to mind, but otherwise, he’s as normal as the rest of us.”

“Then why is he always mopey and careful to avoid others?” she asked.

“If you had a whole town pick on you for your entire life, you would have trust issues as well, wouldn’t you?” said Terrence, scratching his head.

Leah paused for a moment. She picked up the eraser and began removing pencil lines. “I suppose I would. Honestly, I know more about his parents than him. My father once bought supplies from their store several years ago. I’m getting into the details of yourself now, Mr. Howard. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“I’ve never met them. I hear they’re nice people,” said Terrence. His spectacles were starting to fall down the ridge of his nose. He pushed them back into place with his index finger.

“I don’t know much about friendship or otherwise, but keep a hold of them; otherwise, they will disappear. As someone who paints a lot, I’m often out alone in places, so I don’t get to make many friends. At least, not within reach.”

“That sounds rather sad,” said Terrence. “I don’t know if I should feel sad for you.”

Leah chuckled. “It’s alright, Mr. Howard. I’m a happy woman. I’m doing what I love, irrespective of how lonely you think I may feel. That didn’t sound…awkward, did it?”

Terrence shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Leah stepped back from the easel again. “Fantastic! You may relax now, Mr. Howard. Do you want to see?”

He nodded and walked over to the easel. The sketch—which she considered rough—was, in fact, very well done. It was a sketch that had artistry, not to mention a saleable value, written all over it. Leah definitely has the legacy of her father, he thought. This is going to be grand!

The smiles and nods were all Leah needed for confirmation. She took her block of notes, scribbled colour ranges and notes all over them, then tacked them to the board with clips and pins. It covered up all that work, and it made Terrence feel a little down.

Leah packed up her tools and easel. “Well, I’ll be off, then. I’ll start on this, and you will get to see the real deal on Saturnday when we unveil the painting.”

“Sound’s good,” said Terrence. “That’s when I’ll see you next, then?”

She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “I suppose so,” she said shyly. “Once again, thank you, Mr. Howard. I really appreciate you taking the time to do this. I promise it will be worth it.”

The wind started to pick up, and he huddled in his wool coat. “Say, it’s late. Do you want to get coffee or something?” he suddenly asked her. The question was out of the blue, a question that he realized could be taken the wrong way.

Unsure of what he was actually asking, Leah simply glanced at him. “Maybe after the unveiling, okay?”

“Sure, okay,” For some reason, Terrence felt compelled to bow his head. He watched her dart off into the darkness. Alone, he banged his head into the brick wall. “You idiot! Don’t make it sound so creepy! It’s just coffee! It’s just coffee! It’s not a date! It’s not a date!” he shouted over and over as he continued banging his head into the wall.

#

The days went on as until Fridas, the day before the exhibit. It was an unusual string of days for Janessa; usually she has lunch with Terrence, but for the past few days, he has failed to show up. She never thought much of the painting until now, when he failed to show up that second time.

There is only one person she knows who may know the answer. So, just after noon, she marched out onto the open courtyard, and found the person in question: Larry Severis, chatting and sharing biscuits with Tarla Wilfellow. Like Janessa and Terrence, they spend many of their lunches together. This time, they were out in the cool, wintry air, sitting on freshly cleared benches.

Larry was talking, when, like instinct, his ears and eyes clenched themselves into miniature fists. Tarla looked up and pointed. He looked to his right to find Janessa towering over him, arms crossed, and pouting.

“Can I…help you?” he said quietly.

“Where is he?” she asked sternly.

“Where is who?” replied Larry.

“Terrence Howard, that shrubbery-headed coward!” she said furiously. “He hasn’t been around in a few days!”

“You’re suddenly not getting worried about him, are you?” said Tarla. “How cute!”

Janessa’s face went briefly blank with confusion, but quickly shook herself out of it. “Of course not! Ever since he agreed to do that damn painting, he’s been acting funny!”

“Come to think of it, he wasn’t there yesterday. In the hall, that is,” said Larry. “We do have late nights when the weather is agreeable, you know? You sure he isn’t sleeping in the day?”

“Sleeping for two days in a row?” said Janessa.

Tarla poked Larry in the side. “She does have a point. Maybe we should go check up on him.”

Larry sighed and frowned. “Very well, then.”

The three went to the dorm wing. Some students who have funds get access to their own small rooms, avoiding the hardship of sharing with other students. They climbed a bunch of stairs to the single dorm rooms, and stood in front of Terrence’s room, number 304A.

Janessa knocked loudly on the door. “Terrence! It’s Janessa! Where are you?” she shouted.

No response.

Larry tried next. “Um…Terrence? It’s…it’s Larry. Are you alright?”

Still no response.

“Maybe he ran away,” said Tarla.

Hey guys, what’s up?

They turned around and yelped at Terrence, who had come up behind them very quietly. They screamed as if he had come back from the dead.

“Holy crap, don’t scare us like that!” Janessa cried.

Terrence shrugged. “What are you all doing here?”

They all tried to play dumb, but Larry gave in. He said, scratching his horns, “We, uh, well…We were wondering if you were alright. You know…you haven’t been around lately.”

“I’ve been to the shops and back the past few days,” said Terrence. “Sorry if I led you guys, but I’m alright. Really, I am,” He took out his key and unlocked the door. “Well, since you guys are here, come on in.”

Tarla sat on the chair at his small desk, while the others sat on his bed. It was a very small space, but it was cozy.

“So, this painting, how’s it coming along?” asked Janessa directly.

“It’s going good! Going fine, yes,” said Terrence. He stood by the small diamond-patterned window, looking out east to the mountains with his back to the others.

“Then why are you rubbing your hands like you’re about to commit murder?” asked Tarla.

“Are you trying to…impress this woman?” said Janessa. “Like, what?”

“I’m not trying to impress her or anyone!” said Terrence. “I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all.”

“It’s starting to sound like you’ve done it to get on her good side,” said Tarla. “I approve of that, I’ve tried to impress other women that way, and I’m a lesbian.”

Terrence sighed as Janessa turned her head toward Tarla and her off-the-wall remark. “Really, it’s not—” was all he said when he caught on. He scrunched up his face and turned his head around toward Tarla, at which point, Janessa started laughing.

Tarla rolled her eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is that this is the main stage of picking up a lady. It’s been done by both men and women since time in flipping memorial; and I only commented on it because I recognize those signs!”

“Honestly, it’s not because I fancy her!” Terrence shouted. “I always liked the idea of having a painting of myself. I thought if she does a fantastic job, then would be happy. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“So, you are getting cold feet, then?” said Larry. “You don’t think it will be good, do you?”

“Well, what if it is crap? What if I must go on for the rest of my life knowing I will have that stain upon me for the rest of time? I don’t know if I can face all those people…”

Shouted Janessa, cranky, “Oh, for god’s sake, Terrence—man up! You can’t just drop out of this now! She’s counting on you to be there tomorrow, and you will be going. We will be there for the unveiling. Just don’t let her down!”

“That’s right,” said Tarla. “We will be there to support you!”

They turned to Larry, who had stayed silent for the whole argument. In fact, he had not heard much of it, focusing instead on what Tarla said earlier, the bit about being a lesbian. She was one of his first real friends outside Elcra Winterbottom, and they do spend a lot of time together. He never stopped to think about it, but for some reason, he felt a little more empty on the inside.

Janessa flicked the tip of his wing. “Severis! Say something!” she squeaked.

Larry suddenly snapped out of the trance. “Yes, we will be there for you, I guess,” he simply said.

“See? All is well,” said Janessa, standing up. “I have things to do now. I will see you all tomorrow!”

“We better get going as well,” said Larry. As he and Tarla reached the door, Larry turned around. “You didn’t go out and do something you would regret, like ask her out or something, eh?” he said to Terrence.

“There’s more of a chance of you and Tarla hitting it off—so, no I didn’t,” he replied sarcastically. “Thanks for checking up on me, though. I really appreciate it.”

Larry gulped, and before he could get a word in, he felt the force of Tarla’s boot on the base of his tail as she pushed him through the doorway. Before leaving herself, she walked up to Terrence, put her hand on his shoulder, and said to him, softly, “You will be fine.”

Terrence nodded appreciatively at the gesture. He continued looking out of the small window, toward the snowy mountaintops in the east. Maybe I really did do it to impress her…

Outside his room, Tarla closed the door, and met Larry’s seemingly empty eyes. “What?” she asked blankly.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” he said lowly.

“Really? I’m sure I’ve mentioned it to you and the others before…” Larry shrugged his shoulders and looked downward. He did not know, or he did not want to know. Tarla let out a small gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I really am gay. I just don’t go for men. You didn’t…you didn’t have a crush on me, did you?”

Larry remained silent. He looked up, cocked his head, then furrowed his lips. “Well, maybe. We do spend a lot of time doing things. I don’t know. Probably not.”

“It bothers you though, doesn’t it?” said Tarla. “Why does it bother you if you don’t think you did? You don’t see me differently now that you know, do you?”

“Of course I don’t,” said Larry, stretching his back. “Really, I’m alright. It doesn’t matter to me either way. Besides, it’s not so bad.”

“Why is that?”

In the most deadpan voice he could use, Larry replied with “Mother and father have taken a shining to you, and this will break their hearts.”

Tarla laughed, and in a friendly manner, she slapped him on the back. “I figured as much! Bless them both. Okay, I may not be available, but I tell you, Arendor Severis, there is someone out there for you, waiting.”

“Thanks,” said Larry, nodding. “Now that is over with, can we go get some real lunch?”

Tarla is open to her friends about her preference for women. Perhaps Leena and Xiveer did know, and it was yet another lesson for him to learn, a lesson in rejection. Nonetheless, she was touched that, for the first time (probably), Larry thought about someone else other than himself, and he was thinking of her.

#

Saturnday, Felis 7. The opening day of the art exhibit. Private members invited by each student—along with press from Caldore and other parts of Algenon—have flocked into the great hall in the commons to witness this year’s unveiling. They were given advance access ahead of the public. Terrence, then, invited Janessa, Larry, and Tarla to the closed unveiling.

To be displayed this year are a selection of thirteen paintings, done by the students who have shown the most promise. By far, Leah Evans has exceeded her mentor’s expectations, and she was placed in, as Janessa aptly called it, trap number three.

Overseeing the unveiling, as usual, is Mr. Robern Arryls, the college secretary, while the emcee and announcer for the event is Mr. Fen Tivet, an organizer and commentator on many forms of art. He has been involved with the art exhibit at the College for over twenty years.

At nine o’clock in the morning, Mr. Tivet called everyone to order around the first painting. “Welcome friends, once again, to the year 1104 edition of the Barlett College Senior Student Art Exhibit,” he announced. He made a short speech about the history of the exhibit, explaining that each artist would make a small speech after their respective unveiling, concluded with a blurb by the subject, if said subject was a person. That means both Leah and Terrence will have to say a few words to the world’s press, something they were not prepared for.

They got underway and unveiled the first painting. It was an impressive oil painting of the view of the central area of Barlett from high above, possibly near Felgar Hill. A round of applause and the student gave a small speech. So far, so good.

The second painting was of the old post office building, complete with clock tower. It featured people walking around the corner, dressed in period clothing from a hundred years ago. The building was torn down over fifty years ago, and now forms part of a complex near the west end. A little bit of history that came to life, which also garnered a round of applause.

Then, the strains of a lifetime arose as they came to trap number three. Leah and Terrence stood nervously as Mr. Arryls and Mr. Tivet approached. “Ms. Evans, please unveil your painting!” said Mr. Tivet.

Leah pulled the cover off, and everyone gasped.

“Holy crap!” shouted Larry.

“That is unreal,” said Tarla.

Janessa stayed speechless. Her eyes glossed over the painting with her mouth held open.

The portrait was incredibly detailed. A very rich mixture of colours, especially when it came to the shadows and light play on Terrence’s figure. She painted the tips of his hair to flow back to show a small breeze in the air. She even went as far as painting the tip of his tie up, as if it was moving in the imaginary breeze. The painting was so life-like, it was, at first glance, difficult to tell the painted Terrence from the real one.

There was a thunderous round of applause. The reaction was so unexpected and intense, Leah became emotional and welled up. Terrence, his fears dismissed, let out a breath of relief.

Mr. Tivet approached the teary-eyed Leah. “Would you like to say a few words?” he said rather energetically.

She couldn’t. She was too choked up at the flashes of lights from the cameras and the applause from the crowd to say anything. Terrence cleared his throat to speak, but even he had trouble. “It speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” is what he ended up saying.

The rest of the unveiling went on. The remaining ten paintings were of exceptional quality. They too had rounds of applause; but in the end, everyone returned to Leah’s painting of Terrence.

After a series of interviews from press, not to mention an excuse for The Barlett Chronicle to use their new and expensive camera, Terrence and Leah were joined by the others. While this was going on, Mr. Arryls pulled Mr. Tivet to the side, and out of view.

“Fen,” said Mr. Arryls, quietly. “What do you think of Ms. Evans’ painting—you know, the one of Terrence Howard?”

“Exceptionally fine painting and workmanship,” replied Mr. Tivet. “Why do you ask?”

Mr. Arryls winced. “I think she cheated.”

“Now come on, Bob—are you really sure?” said Mr. Tivet, surprised at his confession. “She does come from a family of talented painters. Clearly, painting is in her blood. She did not spend five years under the tutelage of master landscape and portrait artists just to cheat at the end.”

Mr. Arryls scratched the remaining white hair on his balding head. “Maybe it’s just me in my elderly age, but in my forty years of service at the college, no one has produced such an elegant piece of work. If they did, then it’s clearly a rare treat for the College.”

Mr. Tivet smiled. “If you haven’t seen one, you have now, Bob. Relish it. These treats, as you say, don’t come often. Savour the moment.”

The last moment of the whole day was the unexpected photograph of Leah, Terrence, Janessa, Tarla, and Larry together, taken by the photographer for The Barlett Chronicle. When Brackneed picks up this paper the next day, he will be most pleased that his niece has gotten publicity, even if she was not the centre of attention.

#

The unusual amount of furore over Leah’s painting has caused some problems for her and Terrence over the weekend. People would not leave them alone. They were bugged relentlessly for interviews. It became such a deal that Mr. Arryls had begun to worry about the safety of his students. After all, you can have too much of a good thing. It was a warning shot across the bow, a sign that the point of no return was not far ahead.

The problem came to a head Mondas morning, when Terrence was presented with a stash of letters by the mail lady. He gawked at the strung stack of envelopes that bounced on his bed.

“Look at it all!” Janessa said later that day, shocked at the pile. She and Leah—who had her own stack of mail with her—stopped by to discuss the situation.

“I opened a few of the envelopes to see what was inside,” said Leah. She showed Janessa a few samples. “Marriage proposals, personal interviews, you name it. It’s ridiculous!”

“The fact that it happened over the weekend means the news has to be contained locally, so all this mail must have come from around Barlett,” Janessa suggested. She opened one of the letters. “Oh, a poem!” she said, reading it to herself. It was clear by the beetroot colour of her face that the “fan mail” had some suggestion to it. “I think I may have to have a lie down,” she said faintly, tossing the letter back to Leah.

Terrence selected a random envelope from his pile and read aloud the contents. “Mr. Terrence Howard, you are hereby granted a free one-year membership to the Caldore Royal Jelly Society, a group dedicated to the preservation of the recipes of jelly from across the northern hemisphere,” He threw the envelope on the bed. “What the hell kind of fan mail is this? You get a very lewd love poem, and I get jellies?”

Leah was understandably annoyed. “I may not be judgemental or temperamental, Mr. Howard, but I do not approve of this. It is, unfortunately, expected.”

 “Yeah, but you have to be some kind of mental to write this stuff,” said Janessa. “What do you mean by expected?”

Leah explained herself. “You know how the world of art is, right? Full of snobbery and high-class morons who will endlessly contemplate a meaning in a work of art where there clearly is none, or who are willing to pay serious sums of money for something that, to many people, is clearly worthless. They stick their noses up at people. You know, the elites. Art draws out the worst traits in some people,” She frowned after her rant. “I haven’t even graduated yet. I knew enough to expect this at some point in life, but not here, and not now. It’s too much. I’m so sorry, Mr. Howard. This was something I really was not expecting to happen.”

Terrence shrugged his shoulders. “You and I both. Either way, it has happened, there’s nothing we can do now except to try and regain control.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Leah.

“Hide,” said Janessa.

“Hide?” asked Terrence.

“Just get out of sight for the time being. I know who can help us with a place to hide.”

“Yeah, I think Larry won’t leave his house because of that photograph now,” said Terrence. “He does have hiding places when he needs to get away from civilization, though. Maybe Tarla can help. She knows him better than any of us.”

Queried Leah, “Why would he have hiding places?”

“I’d love to tell you all the reasons, but there isn’t time,” said Janessa. “Terrence is right, however: Tarla can help. You two…stay here. I’ll be back!”

Terrence and Leah looked at each other with awkward silence as Janessa fled the dorm room in a frantic search for Tarla.

#

Terrence and Leah managed to scrape by hiding until the next day, although they could not escape the fan mail delivered in bags to their rooms. They took refuge in an old cabin down along a river some ways from the College, which is one of Larry’s hiding places. Larry’s appearance in the paper made his parents happy, but made him ill with nervousness, and he wanted no part of their plans. So, Terrance and Leah are joined by Janessa and Tarla in the cabin.

Janessa handed them a copy of the morning edition of The Barlett Chronicle. “Howard and Evans Escape on Romantic Holiday!” read the headline. She found it funny; but clearly, it was not funny for them.

“This is disgusting! We’re not a couple!” Leah shouted in frustration.

“This is getting out of hand. We need to do something, and fast,” said Terrence.

They all looked around at each other for a few moments. Tarla put her finger on her mouth, and then she said it. She said the thing that would kick it all off. She said, “Why don’t we swap out the painting when nobody’s looking?”

They all looked at her, blinking, shouting in unison, “Are you serious?”

Tarla explained. “The only way we can end this nightmare is to make the painting disappear. As long as that painting is on show, the fan mail and unwanted attention will keep coming, even after the exhibit is over. What we need is to take the painting out of the commons without anyone knowing. We replace it with something else, take the painting away, and dispose of it somehow.”

There was a sudden disturbance outside the cabin, followed by the snapping of twigs and trees. Terrence got up and opened the window facing the forest. Without thinking, he pulled up the person hiding under the window who had been listening in on their conversation for some time. He was about to punch the guy out when he realized who it was “Mister…Mister Arryls?” he said, quivering in fear and surprise.

“Hello, Mr. Howard. Fancy meeting you all here,” he said, clearing the twigs and leaves from his balding head.

Janessa folded her arms and stared at him, irate. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she shouted.

Mr. Arryls pulled forth a hunting rifle. She flipped back. “Don’t shoot us!” she yelped.

“Relax, Ms. Vendyor—I’m not going to shoot you,” said Mr. Arryls as he passed it through the window to Terrence. “What I will ask is what are you all doing here?” he replied. “This is one of my cottages! You’d be lucky I didn’t send the dogs on you, or my gun!”

Terrance and Tarla looked at each other in amazement. Larry thought it was abandoned. It would seem a big apology is in order when they get out of this ordeal.

“Why is it empty?” asked Terrence stupidly.

Said Mr. Arryls gruffly, “It’s not in use right now, that’s why!”

“Mr. Arryls, we can’t continue like this,” said Leah. “Our lives are being ruined by this painting. And no, I didn’t cheat!”

“I didn’t say you were cheating!” the college secretary shrieked. “Let me…let me around and into my own cabin, please?” He walked all around the building and through the door. “That’s better.”

“Since you’re here, what are your thoughts?” Janessa asked him.

“Well, truth be told, the moment the painting was unveiled, I thought it would be good business for the College. After all, that’s one of my jobs as secretary. However, even I know with decades of experience the students come first. I started to wonder if this was healthy or not.”

“And?”

Mr. Arryls shook his head in annoyance. “Well the fact we’re all here should give you the obvious answer, doesn’t it? Good god, Ms. Vendyor—you don’t catch on right away, do you?”

Leah stepped up. “Okay, before you two get all hot underneath your cotton dress shirts, I think Tarla has a good idea, and since you’re here, you may be able to help us with that.”

Mr. Arryls pointed at himself. “Me? What can I bring to this, other than being an accessory to theft?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” asked Tarla. He shook his head, and she nodded. “There you go, then. Anything you do here is in secret, as it is for us,” She walked around the group and stood next to him. “You are thinking about the safety of the students and how to fix this yourself, right? Now is your chance to help out.”

He put his hands in his pockets. “Well…okay. Since this is a unique situation, I won’t impose any penalties against what happens here if—and I do strictly mean if—you don’t get caught. Oh, hell…” He reached into his pocket and gave Tarla a key. “This is a key to the western entrance of the commons. You know, the hallway that goes toward the facilities and other storage areas before the great hall. If you go through there, you can get to the exhibit discretely. Do what you plan on doing and sneak back out.”

Terrence nodded approvingly. “Excellent. What do we do with my painting once we swap it out?”

“Give it to me. I know a guy who would love that painting,” Mr. Arryls said. They nodded, then he added, “Look, I can’t distract the wardens moving about in the courtyard and inside the commons. That will rouse suspicion. You will have to figure out a way.”

“I will need my canvas frame and a painting to swap,” said Leah. “I have an idea, and Janessa here won’t like it.”

Janessa looked up at the ceiling in distress.

“It’s a good painting!” Mr. Arryls shouted at her, but Janessa still does not believe so.

“Let’s do this tonight. Let’s just get it over with,” said Terrence.

“Let’s meet up inside the forest, off the road by the entrance to the campus,” said Tarla. “If we time it, we can get it all done by the time the last coach leaves for town. I will meet Mr. Arryls, uh, here, with the painting, and no one will be any the wiser.”

Mr. Arryls nodded. “I will be waiting. In the meantime, you should go about your business as normal. I must go now and attend to business at hand.”

He took his hunting rifle with him as he left them dumbfounded his cabin. “Well that was unexpected,” said Terrence, scratching his curling brown hair.

Tarla opened the door. “Let’s not dwell on it too much. You heard him—let’s get out of here.”

#

Ten o’clock in the evening is when the last coach leaves the campus and goes back to town. By now, most of the students and staff have gone away back to their dorms or homes. At nine-thirty in the evening, the college wardens—the men and women who patrol the college campus for troublemakers at night—begin their patrols around the campus.

The sky clouded over and became surprisingly warm for a winter night, yet it was still incredibly dark at the edges of the campus, where the walkways suddenly end, and the dense coniferous forests begin.

To minimize the chance of detection, the operation began right at quarter to ten. Leah brought her painting of Janessa’s ponytail in with the protective canvas frame, while Tarla brought a wagon to bring the offending painting to Mr. Arryls in the woods.

Aiding their escapade is a thick black blanket to blend into the darkness of the trees. With Terrence in the lead, Janessa in the middle, and Leah from behind, they would cover themselves with the blanket, and, sticking to the outer edge of the campus, make their way to the west entrance of the commons. Each would hold a section of the enlarged frame to prevent it from dropping into the snow and risking damage to either painting.

Although they had only fifteen minutes, they took it slow. They inched their way through the snow while trying to keep as quiet as possible. It didn’t help that, after making a series of squeaking noises, Leah had a small fit of giggles, and had to stop.

It took them five minutes to make it to the door. Terrence took the key and carefully turned it in the lock. He thought it strange that very few people were in this area of the campus grounds, but they did not let their guard down.

The door squeaked loudly as the door swung open. The entrance was dark and full of janitorial items, such as brooms and buckets. Quickly, they closed the door to stop the sound of the wind from echoing through the rest of the commons.

“Okay, it’s right, then left through the main hallway to the great hall,” whispered Terrence. They took off the black blanket and hid it in a cubbyhole. “Let’s go,” he said, leading the troupe.

On the steps, they heard wardens echoing about. They could see the flicker of lanterns appearing and disappearing along with the echoes of voices. Once the wardens went away, Terrence peaked around the corner, and gave the signal to follow.

Quickly and quietly, they entered the great hall. All the paintings are covered by dust covers to protect them from accidental damage and, well, dust. While Terrence waited, Janessa and Leah went down on all fours and crawled to the third painting: trap number three.

Leah opened the frame while Janessa pulled back the dust cover. They swapped the paintings out and Janessa put back the dust cover, not before scowling at the it in disgust.

Just as they were about to make their way back, Terrence gave the signal to hide. Quickly, they hid under a table, covering each other’s mouths to quieten their breathing. A warden came by to investigate the noise, shining his lamp around to check for intruders and animals. Unable to find anything, he walked down the hallway toward Terrence, up the stairs and up to the library.

A sigh of relief. Janessa and Leah regrouped with Terrence and they made their way back to the west entrance. They each held a piece of the frame, as before, and they put the blanket back over themselves.

Terrence opened the door and led the convoy through. He passed the key to Janessa, who passed it to Leah, who locked the door behind her.

“Oh, crap!” Terrence suddenly hissed. “Someone’s coming!”

Just in the nick of time, they managed to crab-walk over from the west end staircase and into a small crevice situated between two buildings. A warden with her lamp came down the walkway and up the stairs to the door. She went inside with her key, then closed the door shut, locking it in place.

“Phew!” said Terrence. “We were almost done for!”

“All that’s left to do is return to Tarla,” said Janessa. “If we keep going, we should reach her within a few minutes. Plenty of time to spare before the coach arrives.”

They started their return trip. They all knew it, however. They knew that they should have reached Tarla by now, and they were still walking. As Terrence could see little blobs of light through the black blanket, he dared not peek for fear of being exposed.

Leah began to panic. “Mr. Howard? Are you sure we are going the right way?” she asked him, hoping for reassurance.

“Absolutely,” whispered Terrence.

Now, we all have those moments in life where the ground suddenly shifts from under our feet, be it an earthquake, or like when the toilet seat suddenly shifts in a different direction than where it should be pointing. We start to panic, not knowing where we will end up in a few seconds time. These moments are genuinely for people and animals from all walks of life. When we panic, we lose control.

Panicking is what our trio of thieves did as the ground level suddenly slanted at a terrifying angle. Unable to stop, Terrence led the group down the steep embankment. They made terrified whining noises as they headed right for a massive pine tree.

The six-legged sled ended with a bonk sound as Terrence’s head slammed into the frozen bark. In turn, Janessa smacked her head into the back of Terrence’s head, and Leah smacked her head into the back of Janessa’s. The painting, thanks to the canvas frame, survived the accident without so much as a dent. They made chirps of pain as they took a moment to gather their senses and rub their heads.

Janessa went up to Terrence’s left ear. “Terrence,” she whispered smoothly.

“Janessa,” Terrence whispered back. Janessa took her free hand, palmed the back of Terrence’s head, and smacked it into the tree again. He winced in pain. “Ow! What the hell did you do that for?” he cried.

“You led us down into a ditch, you moose-faced pillock!” she barked, angrily but quietly.

“Yeah, I did do that, didn’t I…” he said, frowning.

Leah reversed direction and poked her head out of the blanket. She crawled up carefully over the embankment. The coast was as clear as it was dark. However, she has seen what had happened: they turned at an angle, and followed a completely different path, which led into the ditch. She caught a glimpse of Tarla down the road, who was dancing in range. Disappointed, she hung her head low and returned to the others.

“Is it bad?” Janessa asked.

“Nobody noticed us. We went down a wrong path, but I think we’re okay,” she whispered to the others.

“Mr. Arryls said he couldn’t do anything to disrupt the wardens,” said Terrence. “Maybe they’re looking out for someone else?”

Janessa pouted. “Whatever! There’s only a few minutes until the coach comes. Let’s get this damn thing done! I’m freezing!”

One by one, like disgraced children coming out of hiding on order of their parents when they had done something wrong, they climbed up the embankment. They put the blanket back over themselves and held the canvas frame between them.

Terrence got a glimpse of Tarla, who was indeed just a few metres away, tapping her foot and shaking her head in disappointment. As they reached the roadway, his eyes met hers. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“Bloody imbeciles!” she shouted to all three of them.

Janessa pointed at Terrence. “He’s the one who did it!”

Said Tarla sternly after shushing Janessa, “Whatever! The coach is just around the corner! Put the damn painting into the cart and cover it with the blanket!”

At this point, Tarla was so angry, they thought her hair would turn from fire red to sunshine yellow. That, or she would use her limited magic ability and set them all on fire. They decided it was best not to tempt fate and obediently did as they were told. Terrence gave her back the key.

Within seconds, the coach came over the hill. The sound of hooves clacked louder and harder, and the chatter of tired students bounced off the trees. As they looked behind them, Tarla was gone, off to meet Mr. Arryls in the woods and to dispose of the painting once and for all.

The coach came to a stop near the roundabout. As everyone got off, Janessa boarded the coach, while Terrence and Leah mixed in with the others going back to the dorm wing.

#

Due to the police investigation into the theft of the artwork, most of the college was sealed off with lectures cancelled for the day. After a few interviews in the early morning, the group found themselves with nothing to do. They went to town and had coffee and doughnuts. Tarla brought the morning newspaper, fresh off the press, and showed them the headline: “Mystery Thief Steals Priceless Artwork, Replaced with Painting of Some Lady’s Hair!“

“Some lady?” Janessa said in disbelief. “That’s even worse than what I think of the painting itself!”

“Well, either way, it’s done,” said Terrence, sipping coffee and taking a bite out of his glazed doughnut. “Although I got fan mail today, I had not one person come up to me and ask me about the bloody thing. It’s over.”

“Such is the snobbery in the art world,” said Leah in reflection. “The artist doesn’t matter, nor does their subject. The painting is all that matters. If it isn’t there, it isn’t worth talking about. Regardless, I won’t have anything said about the painting. I put my heart and soul into it!”

Terrence had to agree. It was a good painting. He simply nodded and took another bite of his doughnut. “I found out why there was few wardens in the area, by the way.”

Tarla looked up. “Oh?”

“Someone did break into the east wing, but no one knows who or why,” he said. “Either way, if it wasn’t for that person, we would have failed. That said, I think we all learned a valuable lesson here.”

“Like what?” said Janessa.

Terrence went first. “I learned that, no matter how much I wanted that painting, being too greedy comes with consequences.”

Leah agreed. “I learned a lot as well. I learned that fame and doing what you love does not necessarily go together, and when fame gets in the way of your passion, you become enveloped in a world of hell that is hard to get out of.”

Janessa flipped her ponytail from the left to the right. “I learned things, I guess.”

“I learned Larry had a potential crush on me,” said Tarla. “It tore him apart, I think, when he realized that—”

“That you like women? Yes, we know,” said Janessa. “You do bring it up a lot, don’t you?”

Tarla sat up straight. “I do not…do I?” Terrance and Janessa nodded. “Oh, dear,” she said with a frown. She stood up and pushed her chair in. “I should go and see him. He says it’s alright, but I know he’s lying. Toodles!”

Janessa was the next to get up. “I have to go myself. I got some things to,” she looked down at Leah and pondered on the adventure they had. She smiled, a rarity for a Vendyor when not faced with money. “See you,” she said.

“See you,” said Leah. Now, it was just her and Terrence, and she stood up to go. “Well, I must be going myself. It was a pleasure painting you, Terrence,” she said.

Terrence realized she called him by his first name, rather than “Mr. Howard” as usual. He stood up and pushed his chair in. “Yeah, it was fun…uh…Leah. Say, want to do, um, coffee sometime?”

Leah blinked. “We just had coffee.”

“Yeah, I know, but I mean…I mean another time. I want to have coffee again sometime with you. In a friendly fashion I mean, if that’s alright,” stuttered Terrence wildly. He realized what he just asked, and not for the first time in this story. He went red like the cherry filling in his glazed pastry doughnut.

Leah is twenty-four years old, just having passed her birthday, while Terrence is nineteen, and soon to be twenty years old. Like most children in Caldore, the early school systems teach them to be mature at a young age. Some make it seem easy, while some act like a juvenile into adulthood.

However, the fact of the matter is they are both consenting young adults, and it is that time in a young man’s life when they begin to experience areas of life for the first time. Perhaps with her, she spent so much time focusing on her own passion for painting, she neglected the other important necessities of life.

This time, Leah caught on, and realized he had tried before—not to ask her out on a date—but just for coffee. Coffee, like any other friend would. With her mind no longer on painting nor the exhibit, she smiled and said to him, “That’d be lovely.”

#

We all have our big moments in life. Sometimes, they come at an early age; or, we must wait until we’re middle-aged. When we try to make the big thing happen, either out of boredom or out of greed, we usually end up getting our comeuppance. Not always do we get the chance to erase those mistakes that have the potential to ruin us down the road. Some of us just have to make do and learn from our mistake, a permanent stain on our lives.

In the case of Terrence and Leah, they got that rarest of opportunities. They got away scot-free, and in the process, learned valuable lessons about the whole experience.

There were positive outcomes, however. The experience cemented a healthy friendship between them with the possibility for something more. Janessa and Leah both came out of the experience with a better understanding of each other; and while she soon will be leaving Barlett College to go out on her own, at least she had some positive friendships formed in the end. For Tarla and Larry, that’s another matter for another time.

You may be wondering about the painting. A few weeks later, Mr. Tivet—the emcee of the art exhibition—emerged from a taxi in front of his large, stately home in a southern part of Cambridge County. Inside, he set his keys in the front bowl, put his hat and coat on the rack, and shuffled downstairs into the cellar with a glass of brandy in his hand.

There, he entered another room off to the side. He opened the shutters to let the light in so he could view his personal art gallery: a selection of paintings he acquired from various legitimate means. Perhaps this was his first and only illegitimate painting hanging up at the far end of the room: the painting of Terrence Howard, looking up into the night sky, with his tie flicking up in the wind, and his star charts in his right hand.

“Here’s to you, kid!” Mr. Tivet said to the painting. He raised his snifter of brandy up at it and took a generous gulp to celebrate his latest addition.