I’ve been exploring almost every night for the past week, and every time I take a different path I find something new. I always have a certain destination in mind, but over and over I end up someplace I wasn’t expecting. Someplace better. Ellis can’t understand why I don’t just sit down somewhere and draw. Why I insist on canoeing and trekking through the woods, and making it “such a project.” But getting to my spot is half of the work. Because as I paddle and hike and dodge the snapping branches and lumpy tree roots, my mind wanders. If I sat down right after work, I can tell you exactly what I’d draw. A canoe. Maybe, if I was feeling really creative, a montage of canoes, all different colors. And I’m pretty sure a canoe-themed portfolio isn’t going to sway Mr. Winters into letting me into Advanced Senior Art.

Because Advanced Senior Art isn’t some humdrum slacker-fest full of pencil sketches and watercolor. No, it’s Art as Life. An in-your-face, hands-on art experience, focused on real-world applications. It’s less instruction, and more experimentation. I took Intro to Art freshman year with Mrs. Salsberg, and then Art II and III with Winters, but his more advanced classes were always at the end of the day. I always opted for last hour study hall, so I could bail to the gym for pitching practice and conditioning. Mr. Winters didn’t seem impressed by that excuse when I tracked him down on the last day of school and begged him to let me into senior art. He was impressed by my begging though, because he offered me the chance to show him a portfolio at the end of the summer. “Wow me,” he said. And I’m going to. Because I need something to care about this summer. Something to distract me from no baseball camp, no friends. I’ve never felt like Emerson in art class. And that’s all I want—all I need—right now. To just be Aiden.