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“Getting better, Rachel,” Ms. Holly said. “I think if you just lengthen the jaw line a little, you’ll really have something.”

I shifted in my seat, accidentally drawing a line that made it look like Gerard had a very long scar across his face.

Only, what I’d drawn didn’t look like Gerard. It was a very strange-looking . . . No, wait. It might have been a five-year-old’s interpretation of him.

I turned my pencil around and erased the line.

Ms. Holly walked over to us. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to see my drawing first or Gerard’s.

I mean, either way you look at it, it’s pretty bad.

First there’s the criticism for mine, then the heaping praise for him. Or vice versa.

It’s hard to tell which one is more demoralizing.

She picked Gerard’s first.

“Oh, my,” she said, and peered around the easel at me. “It’s almost like you’ve taken a photo of her . . . Impressive.”

I narrowed my eyes at my drawing, noticing that Gerard’s eyes were uneven.

Mine was impressive too, in a wow-Alixz-I-can’t-believe-your-vision-because-Gerard-looks-exactly-like-a-creature-from-space kind of way.

Gerard just grunted.

I wondered how he did it. How does one lay down lines on paper and somehow, almost as if by magic, they turn into something that looks exactly like a person, or a piece of fruit, or a fish, or . . .

“Hmm,” Ms. Holly said.

I jumped. I hadn’t realized that she was standing right next to me.

“It’s very . . . It’s . . . a . . .”

“Creative?” I said tentatively.

Gerard snorted from behind his easel. God. I really wanted to kick him right then.

“Creative? I suppose so. It’s got a . . . charm . . . To it . . .” Her voice trailed off.

I sagged on my stool.

“You know what I think would help you? A grid.”

“A grid?”

“Yes. And maybe a ruler, too. You know, just so you keep things even. And . . . proportioned.”

That was when I noticed that one of his eyes was bigger than the other.

Ugh.

“Okay,” I said.

“Is it hard for you to draw with the paper upright?”

“What? I don’t know.”

“Because, you know, for some people, it’s easier for them to work when the surface is horizontal.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. “It’s that bad, huh?”

“No!” She said that just a tad too quickly. “I mean, ah, you’re improving. You’ve definitely improved, Alixz. I think you should definitely give the grid a try. I’ll go get one for you.”

She walked away. Gerard leaned over so he could look at me.

“What did you do to me?”

“Go to hell.”

“Seriously. I spend all this time trying to get you right, and you make me look like a sideshow freak.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” I snapped.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

I groaned.

“Here you are,” Ms. Holly said, coming back with a clear sheet of plastic covered in tiny squares outlined in black. “I thought you might like the smaller grid first.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said, taking it. “What do I do with it?”

I heard snickering.

“You just hold it up,” she said, taking it from me to demonstrate. “See, you look through it to your paper, in this case. I think it will really improve the quality of your work.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, hearing the insincerity in my voice. “I will definitely try it.”

“No problem.” She smiled at me and walked away.

I sighed and held the grid up. That square pattern was annoying. As far as I was concerned, it was only making matters worse.

And then the bell rang.

“Okay, guys!” Ms. Holly said. “Just rip your portrait off the pad and take it with you. Try not to bend them . . . I’d prefer it if you rolled them. I’ve got some rubber bands here if you want.”

I ripped the paper I’d been working on off the sketchpad and crumpled it up. I slung my bag over my shoulder and elbowed my way through my classmates to Ms. Holly’s desk.

“Here’s your grid back.” I held it out to her.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you keep it for now,” she said. “Sometime this weekend, I’d like you to try drawing with it. See if it makes any difference . . . If not, well, on Monday we can see if the larger grid works better.”

“Well, I will definitely try it,” I said, slipping it into my bag. “Bye.”

“Bye,” she said, and turned away to talk to another student.

I slipped out of the room and tossed my portrait in the nearest trashcan.

“Hi, Alixz,” Rachel Owens said, coming up to me.

“Hi.” I tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Look, I heard what Ms. H said in there . . .”

Of course she heard. She was only sitting at the next easel, for crying out loud.

“There’s this book I got . . . It really helped me. Maybe I could show it to you, if you want.”

I blinked at her, wondering what had compelled her to say that, until I realized she was waiting for an answer.

“Oh,” I said. “Um. I don’t know. I think I’m . . . going to try the grid first.”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, it could help,” she said. “Hi, Gerard.”

“Hi,” he said.

I looked over at him. He was wrapping a rubber band around a rolled-up piece of paper --- presumably his portrait of me.

“Well, I’ll see you guys around,” she said, and walked away.

“Yeah,” I said to her retreating form.

“Where’s your portrait?” Gerard said.

“I threw it away.”

“Damn,” he said. “I want to see it.”

“Well, you’re not going to,” I said. “It’s not worth seeing.”

“I bet it is,” he said. “You got an offer of help, a grid, and called ‘charming’. Holly only calls stuff charming when it really sucks.”

“Rachel was just telling me about some book,” I said as we walked down the hallway. “And you know what? It’s not important. Okay? Now, if this were English class, maybe I would actually give a shit.”

“You do give a shit,” he said. “You’re just acting like you don’t.”

“Whether I do or don’t,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.” I stopped at my locker and spun the combination lock. I had to spin it three times before it opened.

I put some books in and took my hoodie and a couple of notebooks out before I closed it again. When I turned around, I noticed Gerard closing his own locker across the hall, and down a little ways.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go.”