High Hurdles Collection Two (69 page)

“But this was to be done in pencil.”

“I know. But you asked what I would do, and I would do the shawl first in pencil and then add the color. It needs that bit of color to be what I see.”

“Ah.” Her eyebrows winged higher. “There are many things wrong with it, but as usual, you have caught the spirit. I have been called a ‘first cousin to a whirling dervish,' and you have captured at least a hint of that kind of energy.” She walked around DJ and studied the drawing from another angle. “I did say to do as you like first, didn't I?”

DJ half shrugged. “Sort of.” She wanted to ask, “When holding a drawing pencil, do your fingers have a mind of their own?” But she didn't have the courage. After all, she
was
supposed to be drawing a still life, not the teacher.

“You will fix this?”

“If it's all right.”

“It will be better than all right when you are finished.” Ms. Gant whirled on to the next student, leaving DJ gasping for air.

That night at home, DJ told her mother about the class, but she didn't mention the homeless woman and her cats. “You should see the picture Sean drew of me taking a header off Major at the show.” DJ shook her head. “I can still taste the dirt.”

Lindy shuddered. “Don't remind me.” She flipped the drawing pad to the picture of Ms. Gant. “Darla Jean, this is really good.”

DJ cocked her head and studied the drawing. “I still don't have her eyes just right. She's hard to draw 'cause she's never still. Not for a minute.” She almost mentioned the homeless woman and how she wanted to draw her, but she stopped herself. She knew her mother would tell her not to stop again, but DJ couldn't get the woman and the cats out of her mind.

The next morning DJ started pulling things from the refrigerator.

“What you doing?” Maria asked.

“Making a sandwich.”

“For lunch?”

“Umm.”
But not for me
. DJ made two sandwiches, bagged some peanut butter cookies, and added a bag of chips. After thinking for a minute, she got out the block of cheese and cut two chunks, one for herself and one for the lady. The bag was pretty full by the time she put in two juices, but when Maria cocked a questioning eyebrow, DJ just shrugged.

“Ah, you make lunch for that nice boy, too, eh?”

DJ could feel the heat surge up her face. “Maria!”

“He nice on phone.” She pointed to the table. “You sit, I bring breakfast.”

DJ sat. Robert tipped his paper down enough to wink at her.

She probably won't be there
, DJ thought as she followed the crowd up the stairs at Montgomery.
Then Sean and I really will have a picnic. Not that he'd understand the dog kibbles I put in for the cats
.

Charlie greeted her like an old friend. DJ leaned down to pet him, then smiled at the woman. “Is it okay if I brought you something?” There, she'd gotten it out. What if the lady was offended? DJ handed her the sack of food and the plastic bag of kibbles. “I … I just thought maybe you … you …” It wasn't the wind that made her cheeks hot, she knew that.

“Ah, dearie.” The woman opened the sack and after studying the contents looked up at DJ. “You be one good person, little girl. Me and my cats, we thank you.” The woman opened the plastic bag and poured a bit of the dried food into an empty tuna can for the cats to share.

DJ squatted down and ran her hand over Charlie's back while he ate. The bus pulled up and DJ stood. “See you tomorrow.” Backpack flopping with the lighter weight, she joined the throng all trying to get on the bus at the same time. She looked out the window in time to see the woman giving one of her sandwiches to a man who looked to be in the same shape as she. DJ resolved to bring more in the morning.

Once at school, the morning's drawing wouldn't come together. The male model, dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt with rolled-back sleeves, sat with his head on his chest as if he were sleeping. But all DJ could see was the woman with her cats. She flipped her paper to the next sheet and started again.

“You are having a problem?” Ms. Gant stopped at DJ's side.

“Umm.” DJ sighed. “All I keep seeing is this woman who sits by where I get on the bus. She has two cats and lives on the streets, I think.”

“So …” The teacher paused and traced a line with her finger. “What if you draw the woman, get her out of your head, and then draw our model?”

“Could I?” DJ flipped the page and grinned at her teacher. “You are the best.”

“Thank you.” Ms. Gant patted DJ's shoulder as she went on to talk with Sean.

But the woman wouldn't come right, either. DJ wished she could take her pad down to Montgomery and Market and sketch right there. After several attempts, though, she felt free of the idea and went back to working on the model. Horses were always easier than people.

The entire week went that way. DJ felt off kilter, as if she was either a step ahead or a step behind the others. She often had lunch with Sean and another girl, and they said much the same thing. Life with Isabella Gant was anything but boring.

DJ sketched Sean eating an apple. She added bits of color to a still life that was to be done in black-and-white, but that was after Ms. Gant had deemed the drawing finished. A weeping cherry tree appeared on her pad as if by magic.

She had no time to worry about the USET camp. Right now she lived in a world of pencils, paper, erasers, and line. Fat lines, skinny lines, wiggly lines—they grew and shifted and formed new life on her drawing pad.

The thrill was like the thrill she felt when jumping—only not nearly as intense. More like taking low fences in perfect form.

On Wednesday DJ brought more food and a blanket she'd stuffed in her backpack. She'd ignored Maria's questioning looks but told Robert what she was doing on their way to the BART station.

“Darla Jean Randall, you are one amazing kid.” Robert leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “And happy fifteenth birthday, daughter.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a five-dollar bill. “Stick this in that sack you give her.”

“Thanks.” DJ scrambled from the pickup. “You're the greatest.”

After giving over her stash to the woman, DJ asked, “What's your name?”

“Emma.” The woman grinned up at DJ. “Round here they call me

Emma Two Cats.” Her chortle made a few heads turn. “You be one good person, dearie. Can't never say thank you enough.”

The bus arrived with a
whoosh
of brakes.

“See ya.”

Later that morning, Ms. Gant stood in front of class and said to DJ, “I would like to see your new note cards. Would you bring them in?”

“I … I guess, if you want.”

“I want. And now Sean has something to say.” She beckoned Sean to come forward.

He smiled at DJ as he stood beside Ms. Gant. “Today is a special day for someone in this class. DJ Randall turns fifteen.”

DJ's face flamed hotter than a second-degree sunburn when Ms. Gant began singing. At the end, she stuttered over the thank-you, but in spite of the heat, she knew her face would crack from her wide smile any minute.

Sean turned around and fished a wrapped package from under the desk. “Since DJ helped me with this, by both being the model and adjusting some lines, I probably shouldn't give this as a birthday present, but I am anyway.” He walked over to DJ's stool and handed her the flat box.

“Th-thank you.” DJ knew what it was. His drawing of her taking a header off Major. She unwrapped and opened the box with everyone watching her.

Sure enough. But with Sean's finishing touches and in a beautiful frame, the picture had turned out better than DJ remembered. She shook her head. “Couldn't you do one of me going
over
the jump with the horse?” She held it up so everyone could see. “Thanks, Sean.”

Sean smiled and returned to his stool. “How did you know it was my birthday?” DJ whispered.

“I asked your mother,” he whispered back. “And I also asked her if I could take you out to dinner after class.”

“You're kidding.”

He shook his head. “Wait and see.”

That evening after a bus ride to Columbus Street, Sean took DJ's hand as they walked down the street. DJ bumped him with her shoulder. “What are ya doin'?”

Sean shrugged. “I don't want anyone to get between us, okay?”

DJ shrugged. “Okay.” Besides, it felt kind of nice, better than keeping her hands in her pockets now that the cool fog had drifted back through the streets of the city.

“But I'm not dressed up for a restaurant like that,” DJ said when they stopped in front of the Stinking Rose.

“No matter. Other people aren't dressed up, either. Come on, I have reservations.”

DJ followed him inside and past the line of patrons waiting for admittance. She'd never been out to dinner with a guy before. Did everyone in the line know it? The white-aproned waiter led them clear through the restaurant permeated by the smell of garlic. Dried garlic ropes garlanded the walls, along with pictures of garlic, garlic recipes, and huge jars filled with pickled garlic cloves. DJ was so busy looking around and still trying to keep up with Sean that she stopped short at a loud shout of “Surprise!”