are that we believe Chloe is destined for the stage. That she is ready.”
My father’s hand shakes harder, gripping his other wrist to keep them both in place.
“I assure you,” he answers on my behalf, “she will begin auditioning seriously. By semester’s end.
Isn’t that right, Chloe?”
“Yes,” I answer obediently.
And then I stare out the window. At the colors in the trees, blending them on a palate in my
imagination to create something dark. Something sinister.
And something free.
“By the end of semester.”
Chapter Two
Keller
While the room is quiet and still, I seize the opportunity to sit at my desk and absorb the silence.
Soon, it will be filled with students. Low murmurs and the collaborative sounds of pencils and paper,
canvas and paintbrushes. Out of habit, I pull up the calendar on my phone, counting down the days
until the end of semester. Sixty three.
I don’t know why that brings relief, but it does.
This environment is stifling to me. But it’s also what I deserve.
This was not the life I envisioned for myself only six years ago. But six years ago, everything
changed. And now the only thing I can do to make amends for the events of that day is to tell myself
that I am making a difference here. In the only way I can.
By helping students. By teaching that which I can no longer do myself.
That is the lie I tell myself every day when I step inside this classroom. When my students look up
at me with sometimes hopeful, sometimes admirable faces, I like to believe that this is right. That this
is where I need to be.
But the truth is, they each already hold the necessary ingredients. They have what it takes. The
want. That is the only thing that matters. That want will be the driving force of all their artistic
endeavors. That want will not quiet or dampen the flames inside of them.
And I am merely the fool who will stand in front of them, attempting to guide them to something
they can only ever learn for themselves.
I see that in their faces when they are staring back at me. As they enter the room and take their