How do you capture the icy feeling of shocked surprise she felt when Kevin appeared as if by magic, right before her eyes? Tanya fought to capture that feeling and put it on the face of the black boy in her portrait for the competition. She had less than three weeks to meet the deadline, less than three weeks to make the boy come to life on her canvas. She shoved the image of Kevin, his body sliding through the water in a smooth front crawl, out of her mind. She couldn't be distracted now.

With careful strokes, she sketched the boy's elegant face upon her drawing board. And again…and again. Each try was a bit closer to what she saw in her mind. She grabbed for her own feeling of shock from the day before, held it firmly in her mind, and forced it into her fingers. The boy's face began to show the look she wanted, a compelling, captivating glance to hold the viewer's attention. She made his expression more forceful by enlarging his eyes and keeping his lips slightly apart, sketched him from various angles, and finally gave a satisfied sigh. Yes. That was it.

Tanya collapsed into a lawn chair and closed her eyes. She had worked nonstop since early morning; it was now late afternoon. Her stomach rumbled slightly, nudging her with a dull hunger, but she didn't want to move right then. She sighed, pushed a sweaty lock of hair from her face, and drifted in a half-dream.

What would she tell Kevin? How could she intrigue him, without exposing herself to danger? She yawned. I remember reading once, she thought, of how most artists are either drug addicts or alcoholics. Some are mentally ill, with problems like bipolar disorder. I wonder if I could pretend to have a problem like that, a problem that sent me abroad for my own protection?

She shrugged the thought away. It was too farfetched, too impossible to bring across. She knew nothing about drugs, nor anything about mental illness. It would never work. Besides, no one is punished or cured by being sent to the Riviera. She stretched her arms above her head and shook herself like a puppy after a bath. She could play the part of a girl in trouble, but it would need a lot more work.

"Don't be afraid…it's only me," a voice said from nearby. Tanya bolted upright. "I found a hole in the cedar hedge. Perfect shortcut." Kevin's face came into view. "Hello," he said with a grin.

Tanya felt her usual blush start from her belly and flood her face. She pushed at her sweaty, tangled hair. Kevin didn't look at her. He picked up her sketches and examined them one by one.




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