The teacher carried on with discussing the course subject and what he wanted to see from all of us this year. I was paying half of my attention to KN, whom I was still angry with, and the other to the class itself, trying to know more about my other suspects.
Grayson was still on top priority, so I planned to hang out with him after last period, but first, I had to find out where he was spending his leisure time. If only I didn’t have that Spanish class during the senior’s vacant period, I would have more time to get to know my other Finn suspects: the self-satisfied Austin; the normal guy Micah; Daniel, whose room I’d kindly declined; and Luke “Sky” Walker.
I had already excluded KN from the list, only because I didn’t like him to be my brother. He was too detestable. And for Christoffer, he had an extra class with me. I’d actually enrolled in that class, after knowing that he was interested in it. He didn’t seem to be the Jayden-type of guy. He was more like Grayson, only a little friendlier. And so I had gone through the extremes of adding more study materials to my desk, in order to spend some unsuspicious time with him.
Hola, Español. Te voy a utilizar para saber si Christoffer es Finn. Or something like that. I was never good in Spanish anyway, or in any other foreign languages.
“Mr. Kensey?” the teacher said.
I was staring at our teacher, like what two-third of the class was doing. For a minute, I wondered why he seemed to hold his gaze at me. I thought his eyes only landed on mine for a second or two as he was calling Mr. Kensey, but it seemed like they were lingering on mine longer than I assumed they would.
The look on our teacher’s face changed. He suddenly appeared a bit perplexed. His eyes were still on me, though. I blinked. He blinked. That was when I realized it—I was Mr. Kensey! How could I ever forget such a thing?
He forced a smile. “Nervous, are we?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry for...”
The class laughed. Austin, who was on my right, said to me, “He called your name for about five times now.”
“Really?” I said back with astonishment. Then, looking back at our teacher, I muttered, “I’m so sorry for spacing out, sir.”
“So why don’t you tell us what you expect?” the teacher asked me.
“Formulas?”
“And how they are derived and connected,” he concluded on my behalf. I heard some laughing from the class again. Did I get my schedule wrong, and we actually had literature right now? Even the teacher looked humored by what I did. He chortled softly, shaking his head before turning his gaze elsewhere, utterly amused.
“What did I do?” I obliviously asked Jayden.
Then I knew why when the teacher asked KN instead, “But aside from the course itself that we had finished discussing a moment ago, Mr. Cosgrove, what do you expect from me as your teacher?”
KN got up and instantly answered, “There are several things that I’m looking forward to in this class. It is important to display professionalism at all times. Considering that we will discuss mathematics at eight o’clock in the morning, it is important to introduce the subject in an interesting way. Some of us, obviously, are having a hard time waking up, and I’ll probably guess staying awake as well.”
Was he talking about me? As I looked at KN, it was like there was a third hand at his back that was pointing to me. KN carried on with his speech. This was the first time that I heard him speak in class. Seriously, he didn’t sound like my roommate.
With due hesitation, I leaned towards Jayden. “Does he really talk that way during class?”
“Aye. Everyone’s betting he’ll end up being class valedictorian. Not that many care or want that spot,” Jayden said with a yawn. The teacher seemed to be very engaged with what KN was saying and totally forgot that he had fifty-three more students.
And so KN and the teacher talked for about ten minutes. Jayden and I ended up talking about some other things instead. When they finished, half of the class was already asleep. Our new teacher for calculus, Mr. Turner, cleared his throat in order to wake up the sleepy heads in the classroom. Then he proceeded to our very first assignment.
Bummer.
I yawned behind my book a couple of times until the bell rang. Putting my things inside my bag, I was focused on keeping my eyes open. So when someone tapped me from behind, it startled me. That made the person behind me laugh.
Turning my head, I saw Christoffer with some other guys from our class. “Do you want to come with us?”
I nodded and got up from my seat. Spanish 2 was the time I’d allotted for Christoffer. As we were walking to class, I didn’t waste any time and quickly carried on a conversation with him. “So you like Spanish?”
“I like it,” he replied. “Although we’re only required to take one here, I considered taking another.”
“What about Austin?”
He smiled. “Austin and the others are not interested at all.”
“How long have you two known each other?” I continued asking. This was like killing two birds with one stone. I’d ask about his life and entangle Austin’s along with it. The two of them were close from what I heard.
“Since last year. We’re roommates,” Christoffer answered.
“Have you two met before or only here?” I asked. In the finding Finn language, it meant, ‘Where were you staying before you came here? And can you tell me about Austin’s as well?’
“Nope, met him here.” He smiled, pointing to the classroom in front of us. “Here we are.”
Why was this classroom only a few feet away from where we had our first period? Why not a building apart? Or at least a floor apart? That could buy me some more time. There were so many questions I had in mind for Christoffer. But since I ran out of steps to take with him, I kept it simple by just letting it end like that.
We still got five minutes before class would start. Looking around, I saw a peculiar poster hanging on one side. I asked Christoffer, who was sitting beside me, “What’s this White Canvas Art Exhibit?”
“We get to see girls,” Larry, the one on my right, replied.
“Girls?” I repeated.
Christoffer and the others laughed. I must have sounded like one big idiot just now. Then he answered, “It’s an open event.”
“Oh, an open event. Right. Like it’s an event where girls could also come?”
“Yup! But they limit the admission to only a hundred guests. It’s an art exhibit, actually,” he added.
“I wish they’d at least make the admission two hundred or more than that. The school can accommodate that much,” Josh muttered. He played chess with Larry during dinner, and they both loved Spanish. I was getting good at remembering people now.
“I wonder if I should get a haircut for that event,” Larry said, running his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t a perfect scenario. His fingers barely made it through with all those stuck ends. And yes, he could use a haircut now if he ever wanted to make an impression on those girls.
“So, do you think we’d see his work again?” Josh suddenly asked Larry and Christoffer, looking from one to the other.
“I think so, if he will join again this year.” Christoffer was the one who answered. Larry had that look of uncertainty on his face.
I wondered who they were talking about, so I asked, “Does this event showcase a particular person?”
“Not really,” Christoffer said. “All the students can submit their works early this week, and a few will be chosen.”
“I see.”
Other students entered the room. We stayed at the back, letting the younger ones occupy the front seats. Then Christoffer continued, “There’s a theme each year. Last year, I think it was spring. There was this certain entry that made everyone gawk in awe.”
Larry added, “He had captured every single bit of reality in his work.”
From the tone of their voices, I could sense that it must have been a brilliant piece of art. One could never miss the appreciation in all of their eyes.
A little later, as their conversation went on, I heard it was a portrait of a girl who was running one morning with blooming flower fields behind her. Even the wind, they said, was captivating. It was as if the painting was alive.
“So who is he?” I asked, after they had described the piece of art as an absolute beauty.
“The thing is, they did not name the painter,” Josh answered me.
“He’s kind of unknown?” I echoed, surprised. Surely, he must be proud of his work.
“We badly wanted a name then,” Larry added. “Like we must know who.”
“It was a fine piece. Everyone got crazy for a while. And for a school who teaches their students art throughout the length of their stay here, it’s now a big mystery. Like White Canvas is now all about him,” said Christoffer.
“I wonder why he doesn’t want his identity to be known,” I said in a low voice. Despite my curiosity taking control again, I shoved the thoughts aside. I still got one mystery that I needed to solve, so I shouldn’t bother thinking of adding another one to the list.
“But we found the girl,” Larry said, taking his notebook out of his bag.
“She’s just as beautiful in real life. I think Austin asked her out after,” Josh said to me.
“Unfortunately, they’re not together anymore,” Christoffer informed us, leaning back his chair.
“Did you guys try asking around? Oh, wait, you found the girl. Did you ask her about him?” I sucked my breath, suddenly feeling excited about all this. I never thought that I would be interested in mysteries until now.
“We did. But she said that he was wearing a mask when he had sketched her. It was an out of the blue thing. She gave him permission, but she didn’t know it was for an exhibit. Regardless, she was delighted by it,” explained Josh.
“You can’t blame her. It was one fine piece of art,” said Larry evenly.
“Ma...sked?” I stammered nervously, as worry started creeping into my mind. After all, a masked guy had sketched me a few days ago.
“Yes, half-mask, actually. Like the ones you see in masquerade balls,” Christoffer answered. Where did I hear that before? That sounded a lot like the one I’d met at Channing’s party. Even the way he asked and what he was wearing. Crap. Come to think of it, he used a Corner Stone sketchpad.
Oh, my goodness. Why didn’t I decline? But I didn’t know. I had no clue what was going on with Finn.
And even though that masked guy knew me as Clark, my face was exactly the same as, well, my face. Of course, it was my face. It was Fiona’s, to be exact—the last face I wanted to be seen around here in Corner Stone. What if he would use my face for this event? After all, the story of the girl he drew before did sound awfully familiar.
Starting to be anxious, I asked again, “Did you try asking about him?”
“We tried, but we hadn’t succeeded,” Larry told me.
“Yup,” Josh said. After giving it a thought, he continued, “Even the art teacher who was in charge of the event refused to name him.”
Whoever that masked guy was, one thing was for sure—he had my face nicely drawn on his sketchpad. There was this slightest chance that he could use it for this White Canvas Art Exhibit event. He could expose me unknowingly, even if he named his piece something like “Clark Eating Lots of Crab Cakes”.
I would be so busted.
“Are you okay?” Christoffer asked me, looking worried.
I wanted to say that I was fine, but my head began spinning suddenly. From the moment they mentioned he was wearing a mask, all I could think about was my face sketched in his pad and the White Canvas Art Exhibit in three weeks.
FINDING FINN JOURNAL NO. 6
Why did I let that dude sketch me? Why? *wallows in sadness*
~Hello from the author~
Straubrey and I are cooking something for this story. We can't wait to share it with all of you. For now, enjoy this illustration of Fiona and KN.
Follow https://www.tiktok.com/@itstraubrey_sol on Tiktok to see more of Getting It Straight's creation.
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