Chapter Twenty-Three #2
As it turns out, I am as bad at wheel throwing as I expected. I struggle with centering my clay, and at one point I wet it too much; the whole thing slides across the wheel, causing some of the kids around me to laugh. I realize I’m smiling too, even as I screw it up over and over again.
The girl next to me takes pity on me at one point, leaning over to say, “You have to be gentle. You can’t force it into shape. You have to”—she shoots a quick look in Deonne’s direction—“coax it?”
Deonne smiles encouragingly. “That’s right. Pottery is a slow, patient art.”
By the time her class is over, I’ve made one extremely misshapen bowl that Deonne kindly offers to fire for me.
“I don’t think it’ll balance,” she says as she helps me cut it from the wheel, “but it’s cool to keep, right?
Your first bowl. I still have mine on a shelf somewhere.
It slumped during firing—it’s basically a heap, but I kept it because it was my first. It fits right in with some of my more abstract pieces. ”
I laugh. “Yeah, I think I want it. You don’t mind? I can pay you for the material.”
She gives me a look. “Sweep up for me, and we’ll call it even.”
So I don a mask and sweep up as the kids filter out to meet their guardians for pickup. The girl with the space buns is met by two adults who greet her enthusiastically in the parking lot. She shows them her hands, clay still under her nails, and something in my chest clenches.
I want that. Sharing my work with my parents, seeing them smiling at the sight of me simply being happy. Not succeeding, not padding my resume. Just doing something for the fun of it and having them be proud of me anyway.
“Blair,” Deonne says after a while. “I don’t want to push you, and I’m happy to hang out in silence, but… I get the sense you might have something you want to talk about?”
I shoot her a sheepish smile. “What gave me away?”
She leans against the front desk, her hands tucked into the pockets of her clay-splattered jumpsuit. “You don’t seem very happy. I’ve seen a wide range of emotions from you this summer, but you’re a little more subdued than usual today.”
I nod, continuing my sweeping. “My brother’s in town. Unexpectedly.”
“Ah. And you and his friend…” She makes a vague motion with her hands.
I flush. “Actually, that’s the one thing he hasn’t found out about.
Um, a bunch of stuff kind of went wrong for me this summer?
And I’m, like, dead sure he’s going to tell my parents.
Which is really bad timing, because—well, I’m in this intense computer science program?
Or I was, but today I walked out and basically told my professor I’d never be back, and if my brother sells me out, I’ll have to come clean about that too. ”
“You think they’ll be upset?”
“Oh, it’ll be a five-alarm meltdown. My parents have these big ideas for us: what we need to do with our lives and what careers we should have.
But the thing is, I’m not actually as good at computer science as I thought?
And I think I was only brave enough to quit because I was sure I was going to flunk out anyway. ”
Deonne frowns. “What do you mean, you aren’t as good as you thought?”
“I couldn’t keep up. I thought if I worked hard enough, I’d get there eventually. But everyone else seemed to be having an easy time—”
“That can’t be true. And even if it were, having a hard time in one class doesn’t mean you aren’t good at something.
Maybe the work was too advanced, and you needed more time to absorb it.
Maybe your professor didn’t teach it in a way that you could easily understand.
There’s nothing wrong with not keeping up, but saying you’re not good at it—you wouldn’t have gotten into that class if that were true.
And maybe out of all your classmates, you were more ready to show you were struggling because you’re more in touch with your self-worth.
You know one class doesn’t define you as a person. ”
I sniffle, tipping my head back as I try to gather my tears. “Ha. I appreciate that, but no. My professor just really liked to call me out in front of everyone. He made it publicly obvious that I wasn’t doing well.”
When I look at her again, her jaw is set, her gaze furious. She stretches forward and takes my hand. “Blair. I need you to hear me when I say this, okay? Fuck that guy.”
I let out a startled laugh.
“I’m serious. Fuck that guy. Fuck any teacher who ever makes you feel stupid, and especially the ones who try to make you look that way in front of others.
That’s a small, unhappy man, and you shouldn’t let anything he’s ever said to you hold weight.
People like that want you to feel small, and the most badass thing you can do is say, ‘Fuck you, I’m amazing. ’ ”
I swipe at my eyes. “I’ve never heard a teacher use the f-word,” I say, thinking of Dr. Slattery saying “shit” in front of me. I had no idea teachers swore this much.
Deonne laughs. “Well, I’m no role model.”
“No, you are, though. You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.”
“I think you’re pretty cool too. And very smart, and exceptionally talented.
” She leans an elbow on the desk, her chin propped on her fist. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed being in my class, and I’d love to have you here in the future.
But even if that isn’t possible, you can always talk to me.
I’ll be here for you whether I’m your teacher or not. ”
It takes me a long time to get the words “thank you” past the knot in my throat.
“And maybe, I don’t know, you could try talking to your brother too? Remember, he’s a person with feelings just like you and me.”
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s a cyborg emotional assassin sent from the future to torture me. Like the Terminator, but for feelings.”
Deonne laughs. “Well, you know him better than I do. Not everyone can be reasoned with. But don’t forget that humans are a lot like pottery—sometimes it just takes some coaxing and patience to connect with them, even the ones we think we know so well.”