Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (4 page)

“Aren’t you worried your face will stay like that if you wear the monocle all the time?”

“Well, mothers everywhere do warn of such evils. But we all know good fashion is dangerous.”

“So you’re okay with looking like some sort of two-faced monster for the rest of your life?”

“You mean like Two Face? From Batman?”

“Who’s Two-Face?”

“One of Batman’s arch enemies. One side of his face was burned by acid, and looks terrible. The other half is normal.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t from wearing his monocle too long?” I quipped.

“No, silly. It was because of the acid.” He smiled pleasantly. “The damage to his face drove him crazy and he became a villain.”

I smiled. “Okay, so you don’t mind living like an arch enemy for the rest of your life? Committing crimes while being shunned by society?” I joked. How had I gotten sucked into such a bizarre conversation?

“When you put it that way, how can I resist? I’d be rather pleased with the idea of Batman chasing me all over Gotham City for eternity, while he manhandled me every step of the way. I think you and I are going to be friends. What’s your name?”

I smiled. “I’m Samantha Smith. People call me Sam.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sam.”

“I’d shake your hand but I have gigantic drawing equipment in both of mine. I asked the guy in the bookstore if they had anything larger, but this was the biggest they had,” I said sarcastically. I held up my gargantuan 18 x 24 pad and clipboard.

“You know, you can actually clip the drawing pad into the clipboard.”

Duh. I suddenly felt stupid. Why hadn’t I figured that out? Maybe I was better off in accounting.

“Don’t fret, Sam. You don’t have to figure everything out on the first day. You have the rest of the year to make a fool of yourself.” He chuckled and did an elaborate courtly bow while twirling his free hand with Renaissance flair. “Romeo Fabiano, at your service.”

I smirked. “That can’t be your real name.”

“It certainly is. But if you prefer, you can simply call me Fabulous. All my friends do.”

“They don’t call you Fabio?”

“Well, if it wasn’t for my lack of luxurious locks,” he had a short, meticulously groomed faux-hawk, so he flipped imaginary hair, “my mammoth pectorals, and about ten inches—not in the pants, naughty girl, I meant height—then yes, Fabio would be appropriate. But Fabio is so 1992. Twenty years is a tad too vintage for my taste. I’m all the rage! I’m
Fabulous!
”

I shook my head and grinned.

“Come now, dearest Samantha. We have to get to the studio, or the door will be locked.”
 

I followed after him. “Locked, why?”

“They always lock the door during Life Drawing.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure why that was. To punish the late students? Hopefully I wouldn’t have to find out. I sped up until we were both walking as fast as possible without running through a eucalyptus grove. “Can I just call you Romeo? Fabulous seems a bit much.”

“As long as you don’t fall in love with me, fairest Samantha. It would only lead to heartbreak. My heart is already sworn to a certain Julian.”

“Ok, now you’re making that up. You aren’t in love with someone named Julian.”

Romeo looked suddenly hurt. His shoulders slumped, like I’d murdered his mother.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

He cracked a grin. “Gotcha!”

I slapped his shoulder. “I bet your name isn’t even Romeo. It’s probably Ralph. Ralph Farquhar.”

He scowled. “Please, Sam, I thought we were friends. How can you wound me like that?”

“Well come on, is your name really Romeo Fabiano?”

“Yes, I swear. But no, I’m not in love with anyone named Julian, or Juliet. Promise.”

I laughed. “I’m still not calling you Fabulous. Romeo will have to do.”

“Perfect. Here we are.” Romeo held the door open for me. “Life Drawing. And we’re in luck. They still haven’t locked the door.”
 

With that, we walked into the room.

The drawing studio was nothing like the impersonal lecture hall I’d had for Fundamentals of Accounting this morning, which had no windows and was lit by cold banks of overhead fluorescent lights.

In the studio, a wall of windows allowed ample natural light. It was bright and inviting. Prints of famous paintings hung from the remaining walls. Van Gogh, Monet, Rembrandt, Picasso, and a bunch I didn’t recognize.
 

Easels filled the room, surrounding a black dais. On the dais were a selection of solid-colored pillows, several sheets of colorful textured fabric, a barstool and a waist-high grecian column.

This was an oasis compared to the vacant wasteland of my accounting class.

About twenty students buzzed around the room. Some were still setting up. Others were already busy sketching. An old guy with glasses on the tip of his nose worked intently at his easel like he’d been there for awhile.

Although I’d doodled in my school notebooks for as long as I could remember, I’d never done life drawing. I guess life drawing meant working while standing? Because it was more lively that way?

“There’s two open spots in front,” Romeo pointed. “We’ll get a great view.”
 

“Of what, the colored pillows?”

He led me over to the empty easels and set his clipboard on one of them. I did likewise. “Hey, Kamiko,” he said to an Asian girl sketching next to him. “This is my new friend Sam. Sam, Kamiko.”

Kamiko held out her charcoal-dusted hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”
 

“You too.” She seemed sweet. I hoped it wasn’t an act. Now I had charcoal all over my fingers. I guess life drawing was messy too?

“Kamiko is amazing,” Romeo said. “You should see her sketchbook. She’s like this wunderkind drawing prodigy.”

Kamiko blushed. “Shut
up
, Romeo!” She punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” Romeo rubbed his arm vigorously. “When are you going to learn to hit like a girl? I bruise easily. Besides, I thought I asked you to leave your false modesty at the door.”

Kamiko grinned to herself while she continued sketching.

“Seriously, did you bring your sketchbook? I want to show it to Sam.”

“It’s in my bag.”

Romeo dug it out of her lime green knapsack. A little cartoon figurine hung from one of the zippers by a keychain.

“That keychain on your backpack looks familiar,” I said.

“It’s Finn the Human, from Adventure Time,” Kamiko replied.

“I’ve seen that show. It’s on Cartoon Network, right?”

Kamiko exploded with glee. “Ohmygod! You know Adventure Time?”

“I’ve seen it once or twice.”
I think.
Bonding over cartoons. Whatever worked. Better than the Fembots from Delta Pi Delta.

“Girl crush,” Romeo said. “It’s her favorite show. You shouldn’t have lit her fuse. Now she’s never going to shut up.”

Kamiko raised her fist threateningly at Romeo.

He covered his arm protectively. “Ow!”

Kamiko smiled. “I didn’t even hit you yet, baby.”
 

“Here, Sam, look at her sketchbook before she murders me,” Romeo said.

I flipped through it. It was filled with the most amazing japanese-style manga and anime drawings, many in color. Way better than I could do. Who was I kidding taking an art class? Maybe accounting really was the path for me. I was sure everyone in this room could draw better than I could. “Wow, Kamiko, you’re really good,” I said despondently.

“Thanks,” she said nervously.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Romeo said. “Kamiko came out of the womb with a sketchbook and pencil in hand. She can draw in her sleep. She’s a freak. I think the government is going to hire her for some special drawing wizard thing to fight terrorism.”

Kamiko rolled her eyes.

“You must be an art major.” I handed the sketchbook back to Kamiko.
 

“Actually, I’m pre-med,” she said. “My parents would kill me if they knew I was taking art classes. All I want to do is draw manga, but if I tell them that, they’ll disown me. So I’m going to be a doctor. But I’m minoring in Art.”

I sighed sympathetically. “You’ve got sensible parents too? Mine think I should be an accountant. After looking at your drawings, maybe I should.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Kamiko said warmly. “I’m sure you’re great.”

I liked her. “Thanks.” But I didn’t think she had any idea how much better she was than me. If she was going to be a doctor, and she was this good at drawing, who was I kidding? Oh well, I signed up for this. Time to get to it.

I looked around, unsure what to do. Where was the professor?

The door opened and Psycho Motorknight Adonis walked into the room. He closed the door behind him, locking it. The entire class looked at him expectantly. The other females, and Romeo, were obviously drooling.

Blue Eyes walked to the dais with the colored pillows in the center of the room and stepped onto it. All eyes followed him. Was Adonis the
professor?
No, please no.
 

How did I end up with
him
as my professor? Madison would be jealous for sure. She’d probably want to transfer into this class as soon as I told her.

Adonis stood only a few feet away from me. He glanced at me and smirked his dimples at me. Oh god. I rolled my eyes. This was too much. I would have to drop this class immediately. I didn’t need one of my professors hitting on me. The last thing I needed was further scandal.
 

Maybe accounting was the way to go. My Fundamentals professor looked like Dwight D. Eisenhower. Accounting was safe, boring and scandal-free.
 

Wait, what? Why was Blue Eyes taking his shirt off?

Gulp.

Chapter 4

“All right, class, we’ll start with short poses. Beginning with one minute quick sketches.” It was the old guy with the glasses on his nose. Was
he
the professor? “Remember, you want to focus on the gesture of the pose. Don’t worry about details.” He was.
Phew
.

“Didn’t I tell you we’d have a good view?” Romeo gaped at Adonis. His eyes blazed with desire. “Look at those abs!”

Adonis stood on the dais with his shirt off in an elegant pose. Holy shitburgers! He looked like a Greek statue. Or a Greek god. His parents
had
named him appropriately. His jeans rode low on his narrow hips, revealing the sculpted V that arrowed down to his…YIKES!

How was I supposed to concentrate? I realized I’d been holding my breath for quite some time when Adonis changed poses. His abs rippled when he twisted his torso. His motion was fluid, like an experienced dancer performing a practiced routine.
 

Did he have an eight pack? More like an eighteen pack. His body was unbelievable. His thick pectoral muscles and defined shoulders popped when he settled into his next pose.
 

I took note of his elaborate tattoos. Aggressive tribal blades on his arms, wings on his shoulders, and the word “Fearless” in elegant script across his chest. From what I knew of this guy so far, it was an accurate description. He didn’t look afraid of anything.

My god. Shivers ran up the backs of my legs and spun through my stomach before raising a flock of goose bumps along my arms. I couldn’t do this. This had to be the wrong class. I considered running for the door, but Adonis had locked it. I imagined myself yanking on the doorknob with both hands and a foot, unable to escape. “I gotta get out of here,” I whispered, panicked.

“Why, when we have such a magnificent view?” Romeo replied.

That was an understatement.

“Start drawing, girl,” Romeo encouraged.

He was right. I needed to woman up and get a hold of myself. It was only a drawing class. It’s not like Adonis was going to jump off that dais and wrap his manly arms around me and…goodness. Where was my mind going? I wasn’t
this
boy crazy, was I?

But seriously, how was I supposed to draw perfection? I glanced around the room. Everyone was busily sketching away. Were they all master artists? How could they possibly capture all of the deliciously perfect muscles on Adonis’ body? Not to mention his intricate tattoos? They were works of art in themselves.

“I’m drowning here,” I hissed at Romeo.

“Make a few lines. These are quick sketches. Not masterpieces.”

The first drawing on Romeo’s pad was nothing more than scribbles, but it reminded me of Adonis’ first pose. Kamiko’s was of course elegant and masterful. Much better than Romeo’s. But he didn’t seem to care. The girl to my right had a drawing about as good as Romeo’s. Maybe I
could
do this.

I looked at Adonis again. Deep breath. My hand shook so much I didn’t think I could draw a straight line, let alone him. But I had to try. As I started scratching my charcoal on the paper, he changed poses again. I tugged on Romeo’s arm and whispered. “How am I supposed to draw him if he keeps moving?”

“Long lines,” the professor said. He stood to my right and drew a simple stick figure on my pad, but his confident lines evoked the essence of Adonis’ current pose.

“How’d you do that?” I was amazed.

“Practice. Start with stick figures, try to match the pose. You’ll get it.” He looked at me over his glasses. Silver hair and a matching trim goatee framed his face. He wore a tweed jacket over a maroon turtle neck, and tan slacks. His outfit, that warm smile, and those glasses made him look like an avant-garde Santa Claus. I could work with that.

Some time later, I’d filled several pages of my drawing pad with over a dozen stick figure drawings. They weren’t very good, but I could tell what each pose was.

“The model will now take a break,” the professor said.

The students stepped away from their easels and circulated throughout the room. Two girls across from me walked up to Adonis and chatted with him. His back was turned to me. The girls whipped their hands through their hair like preening flamingoes while their eyes slid all over Adonis. I hated them.

“Professor Childress is great,” Romeo said.

Romeo’s words pulled me out of my hate fantasy that involved a rusty butcher knife, the two Flamingoes monopolizing Adonis, and a steaming cauldron. Now, why would I care who was talking to Adonis or not? I didn’t want to think about it. I turned to Romeo. “Yeah, once the professor showed me that stick figure trick, I could actually sort of draw.”