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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required We three teachers were taking a painting class. Mr.G, the teacher was new, fresh, nervous. Asked us if we would please let him put our paintings into an art show. Kitchia was reluctant, but Margo and I handed ours over quickly. I begged Kitchia to let him have hers too. He needs more for the show, I argued. She had been bragging all the way to Des Moines how great it was. Her husband Ronnie loved her painting right? I begged and begged and begged and begged and begged her. I am not usually this persistent. But I was that day. No idea why. Except he wanted to prove himself to his daddy, the head art teacher. She finally handed it over, after I practically tore our friendship up. Mr. G. was going to take our paintings down, and they would be juried. No dea what that meant, but had a weird feeling when I saw him return. With Kitchia’s painting. Mr. G. explained the art panel had voted not to accept it. What? I could barely look at Kitchia. I could not look at Margo either. Margo had seen Kitchia’ temper, but I never had. Her cheeks were flamingo pink; she was hot. I am sorry. I whispered. . Her cheeks turned crimson, so I knew this was wrong. We always get an ice cream for the ride home. I ask, “Who wants to stop for ice cream?” Kitchia has not said a thing. “I DON’T!” she screams from backseat next to her unhappy painting. One she said husband Ronnie loved for an hour on ride to art class. We stopped anyway. Margo got vanilla and I got a chocolate vanilla combo. Air so frosty, you could not have broken tension with a hatchet. Rode the last thirty-six minutes in silence after I gave up having conversation. Kitchia leapt out of the car first. She stopped at a dumpster for a second. Raised it up. Threw painting in and stomped off, still angry, furious, obviously hurt. “And you had to beg her to put it in the art show,” Margo said. I felt like a dead dime. We saw each other at school, and I tried everything to be friends again. She gave me another chance, but it was never the same. No matter what, our laughs and smiles were stilted after that. I still felt remorseful every time I saw her. A stale, lukewarm second chance. I learned one valuable lesson though. When someone is reluctant to do something, keep your mouth shut.
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