@Mei!!

Is it to late to join? I could transfer from somewhere else in the middle of school year. I already made my person, so if it is to late, sorry. 

Sorry, but I'm going to have to drop out of this RP. I'm really busy with end-of-the-year stuff and I don't have a lot of time to post.

~Hannah~

"So," Emma says, looking a little grumpy now that Amelia has joined our table. "are you joining?" 

"Um," Maggie says. "If I can think of something, maybe..."

"It's now or never, do or die," says Emma. "You're in, or you're out."

"Can I please THINK about it for a while, Emma?" Maggie says, her fingers slowly crawling to her book. "I just need some time."

Emma sighs, saying, "Whatever." and gets up from the table.

"So, everyone," Amelia says, "What are your favorite books?"

"Classics, definately," Esthelle says, and we all nod.

"I'm reading Inheritance," I say. 

"Sounds good!" Maggie says. "I enjoy..."

Just then, the bell rings and students get up in a frenzy, hustling to their next period.

"See y'all in art!" she calls, and my everyone nods.

I walk into the art classroom, where bright yellow, pink, and blue walls greet me.

"Hi, uh, what! OW!" I exclaim as Maggie and Amelia drag me under a table.

"Shhhh!" they hiss, looking very scared.

"Thanks, guys," I say, rolling my eyes. "I think I just bruised my tailbone."

"Shh! You gotta be quiet!" Amelia hisses. "Look who it is!"

My jaw drops. "There is no way..." I trail off. "Who asked him to sub in art?"

"Maybe he'll be OK." Maggie says. "Remember, I haven't met him yet, so this is my opportunity to give him a fair chance."

"OK. Sure." Emma says as she slides under the table. "But believe me, he doesn't deserve it."

"Emma!" I exclaim, accidentaly letting a note of dismay into my voice. 

"Um." Maggie says. "Okay, guys? This is kinda super awkward with all of us crammed under the table. Can we, um, get out?"

By now students are swarming into the classroom, the perfect moment for us to slip out, and act normal. We crawl out, and some kids give us some funny looks, but Mr. Blits doesn't notice.

I manage to grab a seat next to Maggie and Amelia, breathing a sigh of relief.

Mr. Blits turns around. "Hello, class. For those of you who don't know me, I am Mr. Blits." He points to each word on the board. "Mr. B-L-I-T-S. Now, students, before we begin, I have taken it upon myself to instruct you an life values, as Ms. Hume has been...unexpectadly detained. Therefore, I expect you to behave well, as this...talk I am about to give you, is of utmost importance."  

Oh, good grief. Not another of his lectures. And I can't even read. It's not safe. And I can't focus on art in this enviroment, either.

Maggie's reading a book under her desk, and although I try to get her attention, it is to no avail. Mr. Blits storms up the aisle, saying, "Is this some kind of joke, young lady?"

Maggie looks up, shock clearly written all over her face.

"Who else agrees that this is ironic, and...absolutely unacceptable. In fact, we were just talking about how abdomable literature is. May I have this...thing?" he says.

Maggie hands it to him, hesitanting a moment, and smiles, a sickly, evil smile, and he rips --a library book's-- pages out, littering the floor.

She begins to sob. Amelia is whispering something to her, but I can't hear what it is.

After continuing his lecture for a few minutes, he makes his way down the aisle again, slapping his hand down on Esthelle's desk. "What is this!!!" he screams. "Tell me, class, what is it?! Does it look like art? Does it look like notes? Does it look like anything in particular?!!!! WELL!!!" 

After a few minutes, I raise my hand. "Sir?" 

He smiles nastily, crumpling up Esthelle's art and makes his way over to my desk. "Yes?" He asks. "Sir, I do not mean to be either rude, sassy, nor a smart aleck when I say this.

"I believe that Esthelle's work is art. Art is the expression or application of a human's creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power. 

"So, this means that Esthelle's work is art."

He stops, his face full of shock. "Er, yes, I suppose it is then." he says. He walks back to his desk, not saying anything. I guess he just needed someone to out talk him. 

~{Skye}~

I can't believe Mr Blits is teaching art! I mean, I could finally go to a class I liked, and the Biggest Loser In The School has to teach it? I sat alone at lunch, teary-eyed, but no one noticed. I sit at a desk, clean and organized, my pencil can in one corner, my sketchbook on the side, and my pencil sharpener and erasers nearby in case I need them. I look over at the girl who got the pages ripped out of her book. I forgot her name, of course. I glance at Esthelle. I so wish I could be her friend. But she seems to already have two friends. They're all sitting together, passing notes and trying not to giggle, so Mr Blits doesn't hear. I half listen to the boring lecture about pencil shavings and the proper method of throwing them away. I'm not a dummy! I know how to dump pencil sharpeners in the trash can, okay! Get on with it! I decide I don't need to know any of this, and pull out Wolves of the Beyond: Shadow Wolf. Its a library book, so I sure hope Mr Blits doesn't shred it. I see him looking at me and hide the book under my desk, pretending to have heard the entire lecture. "And now, we will begin drawing. This week, we will be working on drawing animals." Yes! Something I can do, and like to do for once! Suddenly, I forget about being a loner, and begin to think about improving my skills at sketching wolves. Particularly the ears. I glance over at some of the other students, and my heart sinks. They are so talented! I could never draw something like that. I always thought I was a good artist, until now. But I drift back to my book. It's just getting to the part where Faolan is given a bone to carve the story of how Mharie, the outflanker, helped take down the caribou in the byrrgis, when Mr Blits looks straight at me. "Young lady," he starts. I jerk my head up. At least the book's under the desk. "Y-yes, Mr Blits sir?" Agh! What's wrong with me! I'm stuttering, and sir? Seriously? "May I ask what is so interesting under your desk?" He walks closer, tapping a ruler on his palm. I quickly slide the book under me and sit on it. "Oh, well, I was picking up all the extra pencil shavings off the seat, Mr. Blits. You know, one of the most important things about art is the neatness!" I smiled to make him think I really believed that. It seemed to work, for he just nodded, with a confused expression and said, "oh. I see." Before walking briskly to his desk. I let out a breath I had been holding, then take the book, now warm, out from under me. I then slide it gingerly in my backpack, then open my sketchbook and start to draw. I form the ears of the wolf first, erasing and redrawing them several times before settling on some. I draw the head and the basic shape of the body, then begin to add detail. Nails, sharp at the end, on the toes, fur around the face, shading to the ears, and so on. Amelia, is that her name? Peers at the drawing, seemingly impressed. "Wow. You're good." She says. "Oh, this?" I say, nodding toward the picture. She nods. "Thanks!" And then Mr. Blits starts a lecture about not letting your hand touch the graphite on the pencil, because it could smear, and then make a mess somewhere else. Well, I was wrong. Different class, same old Mr. Blits. 

_______________________________________________________________________________ 

I hope I didn't control Amelia too much! Nugget says caxi. Taxi?

What!? You barely controlled her at all! Did you see how much I was controlled???

Wow, sorry I haven't posted in so long! I was on a trip and I didn't have internet. (And I love art too, so y'all are stuck with me next period :P)

Arabella~ 

I slide into the art classroom just as the teacher's in the middle of giving a cleanliness speech to the students. A bit away from me, there's a girl who's quietly sobbing, a mutilated book in her hands. It looks like-

You've got to be kidding me.

It's the one and only book-hating, neat-freak teacher I know. Everyone give it up for Mr. Blits.

I shrink down in my seat, seething. I need to do something. It's hard for me just to sit here and look at this guy. But if I insult him, he'll send me to the office or rip up my things. What to do, what to do...

Okay, so this guy likes rules, technicalities, and neatness. What can I tell him about art that'll make him listen?

I raise my hand.

The underlying chatter in the room goes dead silent.

Mr. Blits turns towards me.

"Sir?" I say hesitantly.

"What, Miss Carter, do you want so badly as to interrupt my lectures that might be most beneficial to people like you?" he says haughtily, and I know he's talking about the bag incident in Math. My cheeks burn, but I keep on talking. I'm either brave or really stupid, and I'm leaning towards the "stupid" side.

"Well..." My mind races to come up with an argument. "Sir, if Ms. Hume is absent, you can at least honor her position. Bo-- er, writing is considered an art, and destroying it is the opposite of what you're supposed to be doing in this job." I can see his eyes bulging, and I panic, thinking, what's the thing people like this guy value most?

Then it hits me, and I have a little evil-genius moment. I'm sure it shows on my face when I go, "Sir, something like that could have you reported to the principal, maybe even the superintendent, and, I don't know, there's a risk of you...losing your job."

His face goes white. Score. 

"Young lady," he says, walking over to my desk and staring me down. I stare right back, trying my best to not say, "Come at me, bro!" 

"You - nor anyone in this classroom - will report me, or do anything of the sort--" He's using a hard tone of voice, but there's a hesitant undertone. Like fear.

"--but," he continues, "Just to show that I am truly a generous educator, I will allow you to draw and write during this period." There's a collective gasp around the room. "But I most certainly will not allow you to read, and waste your time with such fantasy." There are a few groans.

Well, the battle's mostly won. I smile as I pull out a sheet of paper and a pencil. One point for the students, none for the Blitzkrieg.