Chapter 6 Parker #2
“Yeah, I’m planning to explore the changing face of the sport over the years,” she replied. “I’m looking into how it’s developed visually, socially, and culturally. I was thinking it could be a mixed-media piece…”
I glanced down at my tablet, suddenly questioning whether my work was as good as I thought.
Mr. Green was always telling me my artwork needed more voice and meaning, while it sounded like Mackenzie’s had plenty.
I didn’t want someone else using the same subject matter as me because I didn’t want to be compared—especially not with her.
“Well, I’m really looking forward to seeing how it turns out,” Mr. Green was saying. “Do you play hockey?”
“No, not anymore.”
The chatter in the classroom increased so I couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation. Why didn’t Mackenzie play hockey anymore? Her dad was a coach, and her brother played at the same college as Reed and Gray. Hockey must have been as much a part of her family as it was my own.
And while I might have despised every fiber of this girl’s being, even I couldn’t deny she’d been a decent player when we’d squared off against one another.
I’d scored countless goals that day, not that Coach Foster had noticed, but Mackenzie had saved my best effort with impressive ease.
Whatever her reason, she would have been out of luck at this school anyway; Ransom High had never had a girls’ team.
When they emerged from the office, Mr. Green was beaming.
It was hardly surprising; it sounded like he’d just found a new star student.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, Mackenzie, I’m always here.
This classroom is all about experimenting and expressing your ideas in unique ways, and I’m excited to see more from you. ”
“Thanks, Mr. Green.”
The teacher nodded for Mackenzie to return to her desk, but when he caught me watching, he lifted an eyebrow. “Parker, you’re next.”
I sighed and gathered my tablet before heading to his office.
As I passed Mackenzie in the aisle my arm brushed against hers.
I felt a jolt of excitement dance across my skin, but I stayed strong.
No teasing comment. No cocky grin. I completely blanked her, and she did the same to me. Maybe I could pull this off after all.
“How’s your comic strip going?” Mr. Green asked, once I was sitting in the cramped closet.
“Great.”
“Parker…”
“Okay, I haven’t made much progress since last week. But preseason has been full on, and we’ve got our first game coming up. You understand, right?”
A frustrated breath left my teacher’s lips as he placed his arms on the desk between us. “I know how important hockey is to you, but the season is only just starting. You’re only going to get busier. You need to manage your time better. I don’t want you falling behind.”
“I know. I won’t.”
“Good, because I’m running an exhibit at the Ransom Community Center for homecoming weekend next month. I’ve been asked if a few of my students would like to display their work. I think you should be one of them.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Parker. You’re very talented, when you’re focused. I think it would be good for you to have a deadline and something to strive for this semester.”
I swallowed. What happened to art class being my sanctuary from pressure and expectation? I didn’t think I was ready to share my work with other people. It was hard enough sharing with the teacher.
Mr. Green held out his hand. “Anyway, let’s see how your comic is shaping up…”
I passed him my tablet, and he adjusted his glasses before studying the screen, occasionally scrolling, swiping and pinching his fingers together as he zoomed in to get a closer look.
I watched him just as closely, waiting for any hint of the feedback I might be about to get, slightly surprised by how eager I was to receive it.
“You know,” he said, without looking up from the screen. “Mackenzie, the new girl; she’s selected hockey as a subject area too.”
“Uh-huh.” Where was he going with this?
“I’m looking forward to seeing the different approaches you both take to the same topic.”
That was teacher talk for I’m going to compare and judge you both against one another, I was sure of it.
“Well, Parker,” Mr. Green said, when he finally lifted his eyes from my work and handed the tablet back to me. “I have to say, I’m very impressed.”
“You are?”
“Absolutely. Your illustrations are excellent, and you’ve done a fine job of capturing the art style used during the Golden Age of comics.”
“I have?”
“Yes, but…” Of course. There was always a ‘but’ with Mr. Green. “I want to hear more about your vision for the project as a whole and the themes you intend to explore.”
I hated this part. As much as I loved art class, it always eventually reached the point where Mr. Green wanted to get deep about things.
“Uh… it’s about a superhero hockey player. The theme is hockey.”
I knew instantly it wasn’t the answer my teacher was looking for. Did my art really have to hold a hidden meaning? I just wanted to draw something that looked awesome. What was so bad about that?
“Think about it,” he continued. “What message can you send through the story and your portrayal of the player?”
“That having superhuman speed is a really useful skill for a center?” Mr. Green sighed, and I didn’t blame him. I sounded like an idiot, but it was my own fault. I knew this talk was coming, but I’d put it off, and now I was winging it.
“I think you can do better than that,” he said. “The traditional comics your work is based on often explored interesting themes like identity, ethics and politics. They’re more than just good vs. evil. And you’re more than just a super hockey player, Parker.”
“Am I though?” The corner of my mouth lifted.
Mr. Green’s remained a firm line. “Just think about how you could add depth to your hockey-playing superhero.”
I gave him a small nod. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
But as I escaped his office I thought, More than just a hockey player? Maybe Mr. Green had been hanging out with the stoner kids in the east side alley. My whole being started and ended with hockey—I didn’t have any added depth, so why did my work need it?
And even if Mr. Green was planning to display my work publicly, I had much more important things to focus on right now. Like finding a way to win our first game of the season now our goalie was on crutches.