The Green Lace Corset, стр. 38

Why was he smirking at her? Maybe they’d decided on the residency. But he wouldn’t have been chosen. He wasn’t even a professional artist.

“Pick a horseshoe and sit for Anne,” he told more students as they came in.

He looked at her. “Need help?”

From you? Never. “No, thank you.”

He watched while she pulled out her sample from her backpack and waited for the rest of the class—twelve students, ages six to ten, all shapes and sizes—to get settled.

“May the best artist win!” Karl whispered in her ear, and left.

Anne froze. She didn’t think she had gotten the residency, but the thought of his getting it stuck in her craw. However, Anne knew firsthand how charming he could be.

Hugh tugged on the bottom of Anne’s sweatshirt. “What are we doing?”

As the cacophony of voices overpowered her, she turned off the music and clapped her hands three times. Penny and her tablemate Cindy echoed Anne’s gesture. She clapped again until all her students copied her and fell silent. She’d learned this simple trick online. It worked like magic.

She held up her sample. “This is a lucky horseshoe. Yours aren’t lucky yet, but they will be after you mosaic them.”

Penny raised her hand. “Really? Will they really be lucky?”

“Of course not, dingbat,” one of the twins scoffed.

“Don’t name-call,” Anne continued, and put her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Yes! It’ll be lucky if you put your heart into making it and if you believe. Mine brought me luck big-time.”

The twins rolled their eyes at each other.

Anne ignored them and continued, “Hold up your horseshoes like this.” She demonstrated. “Now, turn them that way. Make sure you have the points at the top. If you make it this way, all the luck will fall out.” She tilted her horseshoe over.

“Carefully put yours down in front of you, facing the lucky way.” She passed out paper plates to each of the students. “Choose found objects from the trays on the table that appeal to you, and put them on your plates.”

Anne turned on Enya again.

“Can’t we listen to something else?” Hugh asked.

Anne switched to Bruno Mars.

Heads down, the students started digging through the trays. Hugh chose a purple earring, Cindy a tiny plastic snake, and the twins picked up handfuls of objects and tossed them on their plates.

Anne placed a glue bottle next to each student. When all the plates were filled, she put on her sunglasses, waved her hands in the air, and sang the lyrics to “Uptown Funk” with a pouty expression on her face. At the end of the song, she turned off the music and posed, her arms across her chest. The students applauded, even the twins.

Anne bowed. “Now, spread glue on your horseshoes. It comes out white but turns invisible when it dries. Then go over to the counter, scoop up seed beads, and sprinkle them over your horseshoes. When you finish, leave them here on their plates to dry,” she instructed, and turned Bruno Mars back on.

The students began to glue objects to their horseshoes. Penny, Hugh, Cindy, and many of the others seemed lost in deep concentration. Anne felt her spirits lift; she was grateful she had decided to go ahead and do this lesson today. The twins finished their horseshoes right away and left them on the counter. Back at their seats, they covered their palms with glue. Anne shrugged. At least they were sitting nicely. All the other students besides Penny lined up and took turns sprinkling seed beads.

Anne put her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “You’d better get a wiggle on and finish up. It will be time to go soon.”

“Okay. I just can’t decide on this one or that one.” Penny held up a white button and a red one. “What do you think?”

“Which color do you like best?”

“Pink. But you don’t have any pink buttons.”

“What’s your next-favorite color?” Anne asked.

“Red.”

“Go for it!” Anne suggested.

Penny glued on the red one, and Anne escorted her to the counter. Penny began to sprinkle seed beads on her piece, but then she dropped the whole container. As the beads flew across the floor, she started crying.

Anne put her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry—accidents happen.”

“Yes, doofus.” One of the twins laughed. The boys were holding their hands up, letting the glue dry.

“Can’t I take mine home now?” Penny whined.

Anne stooped and put her arms around Penny. “They’ll have more magic if we give them a week.”

Something hit Anne on the head, and she jumped up.

The twins were flinging faux pearls at Penny.

Anne couldn’t believe her eyes. “You guys, stop!”

Priscilla swept into the room with a shriek: “Sit down!”

The students obliged quickly.

Priscilla continued, “Fold your hands, and there’ll be one minute of silence before you go.” She set the timer on her phone. “Anne, turn off that atrocious music.”

Anne did as she was told, then sat impulsively in an empty seat and folded her hands too. She’d never been so embarrassed in all her life. She wouldn’t keep her job now, let alone get the residency.

Priscilla’s timer went off. “Okay, you are dismissed,” she said. “Walk single-file out the door.”

The little artists followed Priscilla’s directions. The twins kept their hands, now stuck together with glue, folded.

“Bye, everyone. See you next week,” Anne called after them.

The room looked like a cyclone had hit it: beads and pearls all over the floor, found objects strewn about, glue stuck to the tables. She’d recently read an article about the positive correlation between creativity and messy studios. Chaos was part of the creative process, but Priscilla probably didn’t understand that.

Priscilla eyed Anne. “Clean up, and I’ll see you in my office.”

Half an hour later, as Anne walked down the hallway, Karl came toward her. Why was he still here? He shot her a big grin as he passed her but didn’t say a word. He must have gotten the residency.

Priscilla’s door was open when she arrived. Anne knocked on the doorjamb, her heart beating against her chest.

Priscilla tapped her pen on