Art Block. After school. Don’t be late. 

Peggy fumbled her phone when she read the texts, dropping it with a clatter in the middle of maths. 

Of course, Mr Simmons swooped in and confiscated it for the rest of the period and lectured Peggy on the appropriate uses of mobile devices after class. Glancing at her watch she is already eight minutes late to meet Vivienne. 

Full cheeks a scarlet hue she pauses outside the door to the art room and wonders what Vivienne will do to her for being late. Maybe she’ll take some scissors and loop off Peggy’s hair tied in a bun. 

Taking a deep breath, Peggy opens the door. 

“So glad you can join us.” Vivienne is balanced like a cat on the counter below the window, she takes a huff of her cigarette and blows it out the crack in the window. “If Attis can make it here on time, then so can you.” 

Lazily, she gestures to Attis who is sitting in the same corner, arms crossed over his chest and legs stretched out below the desk. He looks like someone is pulling his toenails off with pliers. 

“Mr Simmons took my phone-”

“Did I ask for your life story?” Snuffing out the cigarette, Vivienne swings down from the counter and stalks towards Peggy. Palms slick with sweat, Peggy tries to discreetly wipe them on her jeans while holding Vivienne’s glare. “Are you going to stand there or are you going to sit down and help us?” 

Sitting, Peggy hugs her bag to her chest as Attis’ gaze shifts to her. 

Everything about him is grey. From the grey undertones of his skin, to his grey-ish green eyes as if the colour has been washed out, to the grey rugby shirt he wears. His grey is unnerving, the same way seeing a spider under a microscope is. 

“What do we do now?” Asks Peggy. She wondered if they’d do any work themselves, or if they’d glared at her until she did the entire project for them. 

Rolling her eyes, Vivienne reached into her bag and pulled out three packets of neatly written notes. 

“I researched the competition rules online,” She passed out the packets, and Peggy noted with a pang how much neater Vivienne’s writing was than her. “It’s pretty basic, create three different looks which share a common theme. Write an essay on the inspiration and design process behind them. Get it all approved by Mrs Maddison.” 

Vivienne sat on the desk, her feet on a chair, her gaze heavy like lead as she watched them read her packets. Setting it aside, Attis nodded and continued to stare out the window where two pigeons were chasing each other. 

“Do either of you know how to make clothes?” Asked Peggy. 

“I can sew, so it can’t be too hard.” Declared Vivienne, Peggy begged to differ, but she wasn’t about to tell Vivienne Stock she was wrong. 

Attis shrugged. 

“Well I know how to make some simple designs, but I’m not very good at drawing them out in the way Mrs Maddison likes.” 

Biting her lip, Peggy remembered Mrs Maddison's rather perturbed face after flipping through Peggy’s sketchbook last year. In Peggy’s defence she hadn't realised that for her last sketch the woman’s elbow looked alarmingly like a third boob somehow.

“Well…” Nose wrinkling, Vivienne snatched her notes back. “You’ll have to learn to draw what she likes. I only got put in Art because it was the overflow class. And Mrs Madison has it out for me.”

Peggy fiddled with the daisy charm on her bracelet, there was no way she could get her fashion model sketches good enough in time for the fashion show. Her stomach sank. 

Clearing his throat, Attis turned to face them. 

“I can draw.”