Эллен Шрайбер - Royal Blood

And I said in my softest voice, "The paintings I'm auctioning off are Alexander's."

"That's awesome!" she declared. "But why is it a secret?"

"Because we don't want anyone to know he's the artist. We're afraid that no one will buy them if they know they're from a teenager. And one that lives in the Mansion."

"I see your point. But what will you do with the money?"

"This is an even bigger secret. We plan to buy the Mansion."

It wasn't long before Matt pulled into the driveway.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," Becky said as she got into his car. "Nothing is up. And I don't have any more to say about it, either. And for that matter, I never will."

A confused Matt drove off as Becky looked out the window and smiled.

28

HEAD OF THE CLASS

The following morning we sat through several painfully boring English presentations. Students had revelations of being Web designers, pharmacists, and restaurateurs. I prayed we wouldn't get to Trevor and me, but the clock had ten minutes remaining. My prayers weren't answered.

"So what did you learn about yourselves?" Mrs. Naper asked.

Trevor, always the star, had no inhibitions about being the center of attention. He sprang up next to Mrs. Naper's desk while I walked past my classmates as if I were headed for the guillotine.

"When I was in kindergarten," Trevor began, "like most boys, I wanted to be a superhero." A few girls in the front row giggled. Trevor stopped and shot them a cold stare until the girls glanced away. "Of course, I'm not that kidanymore," he continued, "but I do like action, speed, and competition. What I've learned from this assignment and the interview is that when you are a kid, you don't worry about what others think of your ideas. And your dreams have no boundaries. It might be easy, predictable, and even safe to follow in my parents' professions. But my essay is about how a superhero has courage, and it takes courage to follow your dream. And my goal…," he began, and then turned to me, "is to be a professional soccer player."

"Tell us something we don't know," a Pradabee said, flipping through her notebook.

I was really surprised at Trevor's speech. I had challenged my nemesis with my earlier assessment of him and he felt he had to prove to me that he wasn't the coward I thought he was. I wondered if I hadn't said anything, if Trevor would have stood here proclaiming he wanted to be a real estate developer like his dad.

The class applauded and Mrs. Naper grinned at her student pet. "Very interesting and well spoken, Trevor," she complimented. "Now we have just enough time for Raven's presentation before the bell rings."

I gazed out at my fellow students. They glared back like I was the lead act at a freak show.

"When I was young," I began, "I wanted to be a vampire."

My classmates snickered. I pursed my lips and clutched my fist.

"Settle down," Mrs. Naper commanded.

I looked to Becky, who gave me the thumbs-up sign.

"And since then," I continued, "I've lived my life in a way and style that reflects that. It never mattered to me what other people wore-" "Obviously," I heard someone say.

"Or said" I continued. "And because of this I've always been an outcast. Just by being me. So I imagine that I'll find a profession that suits me-perhaps being an editor of my own goth fashion mag ," I said enthusiastically. "But as we are looking toward our future, I'm not sure it matters what we want to be but rather who we want to be. Someone honestor deceitful?Someone kind or cruel?Someone loyal or unfaithful? In any profession we can elect to be any of those things. I think this assignment is not only about what we choose to do but about who we choose to be. I choose to always be loyal to myself."

I stood in front of my classmates, waiting for their response. No laughter. No snickering. No booing. I turned to Mrs. Naper and Trevor, who both appeared stunned.

Just then the bell rang.

Relieved the assignment was finallyover, I followed Trevor and handed in my essay. As the students filed out of class, I overheard a cheerleader speaking with her friend.

"I know I said I want to be a model, but what I meant was a nice model," "Yeah," said one of the Pradabees . "When I have my designer clothing line, I'll give ten percent of the goods to charity."

After the two girls left, a member of the band was suddenly standing next to me. "I said I wanted to be a teacher, butI really haven't decided what I want to do," he shared with me. "You made me feel that it was okay to focus on myself for a while. And the rest will follow."

"I think it will," I said reassuringly.

Mrs. Naper put Trevor's and my essays in her folder. "In all the years I've been giving this assignment, yours and Trevor's presentations were two of the best." She gloated.

Trevor put his arm around me before I could bat it away. "Guess that means we'll be working together again very soon," he said triumphantly, and disappeared into the hallway.

Becky handed me my backpack."Seems like your presentation was more powerful than you planned.

Maybe you should be a motivational speaker."

"Can I wear combat boots?" asked.

"You'll be the only one," she said, and dragged me out of class.

29

AUCTION

I'd never attended, nor had reason to attend the gala affair known as Dullsville's Annual Art Auction.

My parents were more than happy and quite surprised that I was trading in an evening at the cemetery for one spent at the country club. My dad actually gave me the keys to his SUV since Jameson would be driving the Sterlings later. I chauffeured the unknown and mysterious artist, Alexander Sterling, to the event.

The country club's parking lot was as huge as a theme park's and seemed miles away from the club.

Lexuses , Bentleys, and BMWs lined the front entrance. Anyone who was anyone valeted their car and saved all exercise for their chats at the bar.

I pulled into a slot a football field away and joked to Alexander that we should wait for the shuttle bus.

"You should actually be arriving in a limo," I said to my very handsome and quite nervous boyfriend.

All the members were dressed to the nines. Hats, scarves, and enormously overpriced sequined clutch purses dotted the affair. Art collectors from around the area hobnobbed with the members.

All the bigwigs in town were present, including the mayor, Mr. and Mrs , Mitchell, and Mr. Berkley.

The snooty members were buzzing around, acting like they owned the multiacre building. Anyone who was anyone was at the auction. It was rumored that paintings, sculptures, and jewelry would be sold.

Since not much else goes on in town, and since it attracted out-of-towners, too, this was a major event.

Annual Art Auction signs led the way to the banquet room I'd beento previously with Trevor. It was there that a ticket table had been set up. We waited in line behind several women decked out in their Sunday best. When it was our turn to buy tickets, the seller was surprised by her oddly attired customers. But I wasn't bothered. I acted like I didn't even notice, just like Mrs. Sterling did. Alexander was prepared to pay, but I insisted. "You need to save all the money you can,'' I said.

There was a buzz of self-importance. Old and young wealth rubbing elbows with other thoroughbred moneymakers. Sotheby's it wasn't, but the auction was a close second.

Members gawked at Alexander and me with disapproval. I couldn't wait until Mrs. Sterling arrived with her umbrella and turned heads.

The bar was filled with gossip, smoke, and drinkers. I was dying to get a soda, but I wasn't sure what the etiquette was- Would I have to pay for it? Tip? I opted to wait until my parents showed up.