Dreams Flood In (Open)

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

Ray smiled uncertainly, not sure if he was actually being forgiven or if Mr. Wentsworth just didn’t want to go through the trouble of giving Ray a lecture about being a responsible human being, and how he should be more aware and blah blah blah. “You could always just tell them how scared I was of you,” he suggested, not in the least minding being the scapegoat here. And if Mr. Wentsworth knew anything about Raylaigh he knew that he would probably get a knowing nod and a chuckle from anyone he told. Blinking in surprise Ray stared at his art teacher, he’d never seen Mr. Wentsworth anything but calm and collected, if a little excited sometimes. Finally Ray shrugged, “Uh, sure, no prob, Mr. Wentsworth, your secret’s safe with me.” Ray looked at his feet then back up at the teacher, unsure if he was crossing some boundary, “Why do you hate closets so much?” He wondered, the flyer was slow and just like he hadn’t made the connection between his art teacher and the badger he wasn’t making the connection now.

“Oh wow really?” Ray looked at his teacher in wonder, it was kind of strange to be eye level with his teacher. Now that Ray was so close he thought he might even have a couple inches on his art teacher. “I had no idea that was a problem, do all people who shift have trouble?” The flyer gave Mr. Wentsworth a bright smile and he nodded his head happily. “Sure, you never know, and maybe it’ll turn up later. I can… uh… check the closet for you,” Raylaigh added hesitantly. Ray reached up and touched his own earring and smile to himself. “I’ve always wanted to get the other one pierced but my mom threw such a fit when she found out about this one,” he giggled to himself. That was back when Kyle was still at Hammel and his dearest brother had ratted him out, then not only had he gotten it from his mom he’d gotten it from his dad as well after she told him. That had not been a fun conversation.

Ray smiled at Mr. Wentsworth’s efforts to make him feel better. He wished genuinely that he could but he was always screwing things up. He tripped and took people down with him, he tipped over chemicals in lab, hell he’d lost their bag of flour in home economics when they were pretending it was a baby. How does someone lose a bag of flour? Granted he’d found it but not before he’d failed both him and his partner, who still didn’t speak to him. Ray didn’t pretend to be anything more than what he was. He knew he was slow, he knew he was stupid but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to try, it was just so hard and so discouraging when he couldn’t get it. But art, art was the one thing he could do right, or at least in his concept of right. Now he feared he might have blown that too, but Mr. Wentsworth didn’t seem angry, now he seemed simply amused. He didn’t stop collecting brushes as he looked toward his teacher for his answer. He grinned at the answer, it gave him honest hope that maybe there was something he could do. He wasn’t the best student, not by a long shot, but if Mr. Wentsworth had made it, maybe so could Raylaigh. His smile warmed, he hoped he could make his parents proud someday.

Ray shrugged and turned his eyes back to the floor. “I don’t know… well, I mean, my parents have been asking me what I want to do and all that stuff,” he explained, being a Junior he had to start making some decisions. “I've been thinking a little bit about it, I really like your class Mr. Wentsworth. But, I told my dad, but he thinks it’s a joke. I mean I don’t even know if I’m good enough or anything,” he laughed and smiled at his teacher as he got to his feet with a bouquets of paint brushes, “My mom’s not to keen on the idea either.” She was a writer and he could understand where she was coming from, she had a degree in English and she wanted to be a writer but once her and his dad split up she’d been unable to make ends meet and her book writing never panned out. She had the same fear for Raylaigh.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon gave a soft breath of a laugh. “Yeah, because stories of teachers scaring their students always go down real well.” Of all the people at Hammel who could be qualified to give a lecture about being a responsible human being, Devon likely ranked lower than some of the students. Sure he took his job seriously and did what he could to get the best out of the kids, but away from the classroom he was hardly a model citizen. He enjoyed goofing around too much, and the list of places he and his buddies were barred from was steadily growing. He doubted they'd ever be allowed back to the crazy golf course. Ahhh, fun times... What wasn't fun, however, was just how terrified he had been while locked in the closet, and he anxiously scratched behind his ear as Ray asked about it. “I, ahhh... I had a bad experience in one when I was a kid. Never quite got over it, y'know?”

When Ray asked about others shifters having the same problem, Devon gave a small shake of his head. “Not all; it varies from person to person. Some people have it nailed down flawlessly, some can't do it at all. I guess I got kinda lucky that I can do it, even though it took me so long to get the hang of it.” Ray's story about his earring was one Devon definitely could relate to, and he laughed boldly. “Oh, I know that feeling. My mum was so mad, I thought she was going to--.” Devon trailed off, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. He had such fond memories of those days, when he and Cade would go off to festivals during the summer and get up to all kinds of mischief that their mother definitely would not approve of. A feeling of intense homesickness knotted in his stomach for the first time in a while. “A long time ago.”

Devon listened closely as Ray spoke about his future and his parent's thoughts on it, and he could understand that. To many people the arts were a joke, something that people got into if they didn't have the grades for a 'real' job. In Devon's honest opinion the people that thought that were, by and large, morons. “I'm not gonna lie, it isn't easy. Art school is rough, and you have to work your butt off if you want to get anywhere after that. If you're willin' to put the work in though, and keep practising til your fingers bleed, there ain't anything more satisfying. It's one of those precious rare jobs where you actually get to do somethin' you love, whether you're teachin' or doing graphics for games or sellin' prints of your latest pieces.” Devon deposited the flung implements he'd picked up back into their pots. “If you truly wanna go for it, then go for it. There'll always be people to help ya along the way.”

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

Raylaigh chuckled and ducked his head. Yeah, he hadn’t really thought that one all the way through. “Psh,” Ray waved a hand and shrugged his shoulder, “I wasn’t scared…” Well if that wasn’t the biggest lie he’d told this year. He crossed his arms and did his best to look put together. He didn’t think it worked, the cat was out of the bag now, Ray was a chicken. Responsibilities terrified Ray, if he never had to responsible for anything he would be happy. He just wanted to skate through life, literally and figuratively, and now that Maddie had been kind enough to lend him a spare board he could at least skate here. Not at home, his mom would flip out. But in a more figurative sense, his parents were trying to make him responsible. It wasn’t going well… Ray nodded sympathetically and took the hint for once. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

“Makes me glad I only having wings,” Ray joked, he couldn’t imagine the embarrassment that came along with that, if losing an earring was all he had to suffer then so be it, it would be lost forever, so long as he didn’t come out without pants or something. Ray laughed in surprise, somehow he imagined his art teacher having it all together and well, he was a teacher after all, Raylaigh just didn’t think of them as being rebels. “Yeah,” Ray agreed with a laugh figuring the next word were either ‘throttle’ or ‘kill’ or ‘destroy’. He smiled and found a sudden kinship with his teacher. Mr. Wentsworth had always been Ray’s favorite teacher, but he’d never really had an extended conversation with him. Mr. Wentsworth was the best, and the least teachery teacher Raylaigh had ever met.

Ray’s heart fell at first and he dropped his eyes but when Mr. Wentsworth continued he perked up hopefully. Nodding, Ray knew that if this was something he really wanted to do he could put in the work. It wasn’t like math or history where it was a constant struggle. Art he loved and if it was challenging he put more and more work into it. “You think so?” He asked timidly. He had always heard that it was a little cutthroat. He was dubious, he was afraid that he would be mediocre at best and someone would tell him he was wasting his life and he would have to admit to his parents that they were right. He leaned back on one of the desks. “What’s it like?” He finally asked, he wanted to know if it was going to be like school. He was a bad student, he tried and he tried and over and over again he failed. He was starting to think he wasn’t good at anything. Even if he didn’t do art he had no idea what he would do because he simply couldn’t do anything else. The way Raylaigh saw it was he was just stupid. And when he could do something well, it was something his parents thought was useless and a waste of time.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon's lips twitched into a knowing smile and he gave a nod of his head. “Ah, sorry. I thought you looked scared for a moment, what with the paintbrush throwing an' all. Clearly I was mistaken.” Devon hoped that Ray would pick up that he was only teasing. Devon had never been able to understand teachers who were super-serious all the time. Kids picked things up better when they were engaged and enjoying themselves; all strictness did was breed resentment, and it's impossible to learn under those kind of conditions. Set certain rules and enforce them, definitely, but there had to be some connection there, otherwise you might as well be just trying to teach a wall. At Ray's apology Devon gave a shrug of his narrow shoulders. “Don't worry about it, you weren't to know.” He chuckled softly. “You were trying to save the classroom from a potentially dangerous beast. I think you deserve a medal or something.”

Ray was an easy student to get along with. Sure his clumsiness did seem to hinder him sometimes but he was kind and honest, and actually had a marked amount of respect. Devon had never been a good student (his detention record would make a novel in its own right), and becoming a teacher had lead to him occasionally cringing when he thought back at some of the things he used to get up to. Granted he didn't regret any of them for a second, but it had taught him to truly appreciate the kids that made an effort and didn't just make each day a living hell for the staff. Ray was a great example of that. “You gotta keep that spirit, though. Don't wind up your mum any more than you need to, but make sure you're enjoying everything while you can.”

Devon nodded in confirmation to Ray's question. “Yeah, I think so. You have to work hard for it, but you've got a lot of raw talent there and you could make a shot at it, if you put the effort in.” Devon was very firmly of the belief that if he could do it, pretty much anyone could if they actually want to do it. He'd been a poor student but art and music had been his twin passions, and he'd worked his arse off to get to where he was. Sure he wasn't a famous world-class artist, but he never actually wanted to be. He was more than proud of what he had achieved, and it had taught him that anyone could get where they wanted if they put the effort in to get there. “Like I said, it's tougher than most people think, but if that's what your mind is set on I can't recommend it enough. You'll find your passion, you'll meet people that share it, and you'll have the time of your life.”

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

Catching the smile, Ray just grabbed onto the fib and ran with it, because they both knew he was spouting them so why not? “Oh yeah, psh, c’mon Mr. Wentsworth, that’s what kids are doing these days,” Ray said matter-of-factly with a grin on his face, “It’s how we show affection.” The flyer found himself liking Mr. Wentsworth more and more, he was not only a great teacher but he was a real person. All the other teachers seemed to look down their nose at him, he was stupid and so when he asked for help they treated him like a child. It wasn’t just that he didn’t understand but it also felt like they were babying him which made him all the more embarrassed to go. Which was why he hadn’t gone to his physics tutoring section in a week or so. Besides drawing was more fun to do. Raylaigh burst into a fit of giggles, imagining himself being knighted a hero for throwing a paintbrush. It would say ‘Bravery of the Minimal Degree.’

Mr. Wentsworth was someone who was different than normal teachers in more than just being good with students. He proof that art could be successful, because Ray definitely thought that Mr. Wentsworth was successful, though he didn’t know the detail of everything. Raylaigh nodded, “Okay, I’ll try.” He said, he couldn’t believe that he’d thrown a paint brush at his art teacher and locked him in a closet and still the man was giving him career advice. It was going to be hard not to rile up his mom though, she had a little flair for the dramatic. His dad was worse, the man gave him money for anything he needed in place of actually being there, so his opinion should matter less to Ray but it didn’t. He wanted his dad to love him, well sure his dad loved him but not enough to show up for birthdays or anything, just on holidays and now he was going to marry that other woman… Ray realized he was wandering and gave his head a shake.

Ray smiled, truly glad and honestly preening a little under his art teacher’s praise. He nodded so hard that one could probably hear the marbles rolling around his empty head. “I can work hard. I mean with drawing and stuff, it doesn’t even feel like work, you know?” He said. He was taking this seriously, despite his smile, he was just so happy, he’d never spoken to someone who thought that art was a good idea. “What’s it like? Do you learn different techniques in the classes, do you have to take math and stuff?” He asked somewhat apprehensively. He was assuming art school would be like normal college and college sounded hard, and with his grades Ray wasn’t altogether confident he would get in. The more he thought about it the more he was determined to make it happen. If only his parents would get on board everything would be perfect. But this was real life and that was not likely to happen anytime soon. Though he was sure that if he really put his foot down and said that art school was what he was going to do his dad would pay, if not then Ray didn’t know what he would do.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon grinned easily, giving a nod of understanding. “Ahhhh, see? I'm so old now, I dunno what you kids get up to any more. Though for showin' affection like that, should I be offended it doesn't happen more often? If I was a better teacher, like, would I be all bruised up from bein' a target all the time?” Of course, Devon quite often was all bruised up, but that certainly wasn't information that any but a very select few knew about. Now that the stress and drama of the moment had mostly passed the conversation was flowing well, and Devon was settling back into his rhythm again. His wrist still throbbed painfully, but he kept trying to brush that out of his mind as much as possible. Ray seemed to be settled down again too, and Devon didn't want the kid getting all flustered and guilty-feeling over it again. Especially since, in Devon's mind, he didn't have anything to feel guilty for.

When Ray confirmed that he would keep his spirit up and stay enjoying himself, Devon gave a short nod and a smile. “Good. I mean, I know it sounds kinda lame, but you gotta stay true to you. If you spend all your time tryna make everyone else happy, you'll just wind up miserable 'cos you'll be livin' for everyone else. Be awesome with others, yeah, but you gotta keep yourself awesome too.” Devon knew that really, he was probably the last person in the state that should be giving any kind of personal advice. There were aspects of his life that were less than ideal and others that were complete clusterfucks, but at the end of the day he could look himself in the mirror and know that he was still a good person worthy of some respect. And hey, while he was less than proud of some of the things he'd done, he'd had a hell of a lot of fun over the years.

Devon listened as Ray spoke, smiling warmly when Ray said that art to him didn't even feel like work. “Y'know, that's the best sign. If you really love something it should be fun, something that you wanna do even when you don't have to do it. You keep that there, and you'll do fine.” When Ray asked about what the courses would involve, Devon gave a small shrug of his narrow shoulders. “Depends what course you take. No matter what one you'll always be learnin' new techniques, but for the maths and stuff, it varies. Some courses'll be a lot more practical, others more on the theory. It depends what you go for. Maths and art go together more than you'd think; a lot of artists use maths in their work. My favourite, Escher, for example.” Devon pondered for a moment, before adding “I ain't the best at maths ever, not by a long way, but if you wanted extra tutoring maybe I could help ya find ways to use art to get some of the maths to stick in better.”

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

Raylaigh giggled, Mr. Wentsworth was definitely one of the cool teachers. The fact that he just rolled with it gave Ray happiness and he shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t be offended, you are a teach after all, we can’t just go around beating you guys up.” He claimed, speaking as if this were a real thing that happened. It was a good thing it wasn’t, people like Raylaigh would not hold up well against projectiles of any form. He was really glad Mr. Wentsworth wasn’t upset anymore and wasn’t scared. Ray would do his very best to keep Mr. Wentsworth’s secret, and honestly it should be that hard, it wasn’t like he knew a lot of people with who the art teacher came up in casual conversation. He wouldn’t go spreading it. Not when Mr. Wentsworth was such an awesome guy.

Nodding along, Ray hung on his every word. His own father wasn’t supportive, but he knew that his dad loved him. It was nice to hear it from someone he knew and trusted that he could do it. Something told Raylaigh that Mr. Wentsworth spoke from experience, and somehow that was easier. It was almost as if he were closer to Ray’s level, not necessarily in skill or in experiences, but in a way that he had been through something like this and it had worked out. It gave Ray hope and he nodded, deciding he would stand up to his parents. Something struck him about that. Was that true for relationships as well? He had tried so hard to make Jack happy and now here he was, all alone. “I guess that’s true. So like, if someone doesn’t believe in you, don’t quit cause they say you’re no good?” He asked, he’d never told anyone about Jack, but he needed answers and right now he was seeking wisdom from someone he trusted.

It was amazing how just having someone believe in him could change the way he felt about the whole thing. He nodded again his mouth wide with a smile and his eyes curving up in happy inverted ‘u’s. Ray blinked in surprise, “Really? I’m so bad at it. I always thought there were the math people,” he put his hands to one side then swung them to the far side, “And the art people.” Raylaigh made a mental note of the name, though chances were he’d forget about it soon. He brightened again and bounced on his toes eagerly. “You would?! God that would be awesome Mr. Wentsworth, I need the help! Ms. Mates keeps trying and trying but if I don’t do extra good on the final I’m gonna bomb the class.” He hung his head in despair. He couldn’t afford to fail, he was already just barely squeaking by in physics and that was only because his teacher was making extra credit really easy for him to get. Ms. Mates was trying her best, there was just only so much when Ray couldn’t even understand why they had to go and make up sines and cosines in the first place.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon was a strong believer in being professional in the classroom, but within a certain limit. Rules had to be set and standards maintained, obviously, but there had to be that connection there too. Especially so for classes like art where expression was everything. Truly great work could come from angst and drama, of course, but that had its limits and the vast majority of students tended to work best when they could feel open and at ease, not restrained under the weight of a controlling and robotic teacher. Besides, it was always more fun for him too when he got along with the kids and could interact with them like a normal person, not a textbook robot stood behind a desk. “That I’m glad of. I ain’t much good in a fight, and decent brushes are expensive enough to replace.”

To say that Devon had been through a similar experience to Ray was true enough. While his mother (and father, when he’d been alive) had always been supportive, there had always been those who had believed, and sometimes bluntly told, Devon that he’d never amount to much. He had always been too unpredictable and erratic, too impulsive and unwilling to settle into his work. Teaching required discipline and dedication, and the only things he’d really been dedicated to were his art and music. However he had also always been stubborn, and no-one could ever tell him that he couldn’t do something without him dedicating himself to do it anyway. Devon nodded in approval. “Exactly that. If it’s something you really want, never give up on it. Do it, be brilliant, love it, and prove them wrong.”

After the drama of before it was great seeing Ray settle down and smile again. While Devon didn’t know the details he knew that the kid sometimes struggled with things, and he was glad that he could help bring even a small amount of happiness into the day. He gave a small shake of his head as Ray explained his belief that there was a clear divide between the maths and arts people. “Not at all. Loads of great artists were mathematicians; Escher, Dali, da Vinci… even right back to the Egyptians, using 3:4:5 triangles to design the pyramids.” Devon wasn’t trying to spook Ray with this knowledge; quite the opposite. He was hoping that Ray would be able to see that there were ways he might be able to use maths in ways more practical for himself, instead of just having to spew algebra for the sake of algebra. After all, that was how Devon had first been persuaded to actually pay attention in maths class and not just spend the whole class doodling in the workbooks. “Like I say, there’s those better at maths than me, but I’ll do what I can to help ya out.”

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

Maybe that was the reason Ray loved art. It was freeing, there was no one telling him not to doodle on the margins or pay attention. He wasn’t called on with a deer in the headlights expression on his face to supply an answer he didn’t know for a question he didn’t hear. “I’m right there with you,” Ray laughed, “Some guy’d only have to look at me funny and I’d break into a million pieces.” He said it brightly but there was an undertone of annoyance behind it. He would really like to be more sturdy. It just wasn’t fair. “Do you have to buy them yourself?” Ray asked and realized to late that probably wasn’t an appropriate question. He lifted his hands and shook his head. “I mean don’t answer that, but I know there’s all that stuff about them cutting arts and stuff. It just sucks that you would have to buy it all yourself. Especially with clumsy me around.” He finished his rambling with a giggle.

Raylaigh’s expression was bright and he looked at Mr. Wentsworth with a little bit of hero worship. He held out his hand and gave a thumbs up. “Just you wait, Mr. Wentsworth, one day you’re gonna see my name everywhere.” He grinned widely and dropped his arm. Contrary to what most people thought, Ray had ambition. There was nothing that was going to stop him now. It was as if he just needed that one person to believe in him. He’d made his decision a long time ago, but doubts had been in his head, but now that there was that one person who agreed with him it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. In fact he was even more determined to do as Mr. Wentsworth said and prove them wrong. He didn’t want to disappoint people but mostly he knew that he could do this and he didn’t want to disappoint himself by getting some office job and being miserable the rest of his life.

If it looked like Ray’s mind was blown it was probably because it was. He’d never imagined that math had a place in art and he certainly didn’t think that art had a place in math. At least that was what his math teacher told him. Well, all of them save his geometry teacher who had been so excited to show them how to make optical illusions and that thing where the same image can be repeated over and over in a pattern. “Wow,” Ray uttered, “I had no idea… uh… you’re not gonna make us do a math project are you?” He asked warily. Ray never thought of doing something with art, but it made sense. When they drew graphs and stuff in math he sometimes filled in the pieces to make it look an alien or a bird. Ray bounced excitedly his eyes large and hopeful. “Would you really?” He asked and then coughed regaining his composure, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind, I need help real bad.” He felt the impulse to hug Mr. Wentsworth but resisted, that would be weird. “My teacher would probably appreciate that too, I’m pretty sure she just thinks I’m dumb. Which probably isn’t too far off.” He grinned sheepishly giving a shrug at his pathetic explanation.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon laughed softly and gave a small nod of agreement. “I get that. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, not bein’ a fighter like that. I mean, when I was your age, someone’d just have to yell at me and I’d fold like a bad poker hand. Ain’t no shame in it.” There was a definite truth to Devon’s words, though he did leave out the part where most of that cowing down instinct had come from being bullied pretty mercilessly as a kid. Though he had recovered from that childhood drama the results of it were still there, evidenced completely by his reaction to being locked inside the cabinet. At Ray’s question then revoking of it Devon gave a quiet chuckle. “Not gonna lie, it can be pretty tough keepin’ up with the stuff. Between some kids nicking supplies and the budget restraint and just general wear and tear, it’s not exactly dreamy conditions. It’s not so bad here, though. The school look after the arts department pretty well.” Which was certainly more than could be said about the school where he’d worked back home, where the arts budget was being cut week in week out because it wasn’t seen as having the same importance as more textbook-type subjects. Because apparently it was fine to have an army of teenagers who could recite pi to the nth digit but had all the individuality and imagination of a bunch of house bricks.

It really was good t see Ray feeling more positive about things, and Devon did not feel the slightest bit of doubt about encouraging the kid to do whatever he could to follow his dreams. Devon met the thumbs-up with one of his own. “I’m lookin’ forward to it. When you’re all rich and famous though, just remember who it was that persuaded you to get there, ey?” Devon gave a playful nod, perching down on one of the stools for a moment. “But really, good for you, and I hope it all works out well for ya. And remember, if you need someone to look over your portfolio when you’re doin’ your applications, that’s part of what I’m here for.”

Throughout his own school career Devon had been less than enthusiastic about most subjects, to say the least. It was only thanks to the skill and stubbornness of his teachers that he had managed to graduate with grades as good as those he’d achieved. He owed most of his accomplishments to their ability to find ways to get him interested in subjects he would much rather have just napped through. Devon laughed softly and shook his head. “No. No maths projects here, I promise. But think about it; when you’re doing perspective I’m always nagging about angles. Same for 3d design. Then you can use Pythagorean theorem to create perfect spirals like you get on those fancy swirly seashells.” He gave a small shrug. “It’s all there, it’s just learnin’ how to apply it. But yeah, I got not problem at all helpin’ ya out, if I can.” When Ray said that his maths teacher would probably appreciate Ray being helped as well, and that he thought she might think he was just dumb, Devon frowned momentarily before he could stop himself. “What makes you say that?” If she had said or done anything to give Ray that impression, then that was very much Not Okay and Devon would be tracking them down to have words with them later. No kid, no matter how challenging, should ever be lead to believe anything like that. Kids’ being assholes and bullying each other was one thing, but there was no way he’d ever stand for a teacher trying to get away with it.

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

“Past you and current me probably had a lot in common,” Ray joked. He was a coward and he completely embraced that part of him. He was probably the only person in the world that would break if he was looked at wrong. He already broke himself enough that he didn’t need help from someone else and frankly if someone came after him he’d run and he’d be completely okay with that. There was one person he hadn’t run from, and thinking back on it, he was the one person that Ray should have been fled long before the relationship ended because of Jack going to college. While Ray had never been bullied, he had probably taken more from Jack with a smile than he should have. Sometimes he wished he was strong enough to stand up to bullies but he was guilty of watching it happen to someone else and slinking by glad it wasn’t him. He had friends, people he knew would stand up for him, and people he would stand up for, but when it was a stranger there was just relief. Raylaigh knew he should feel bad about that, but he was weak, what could he do?

Hearing that the school took care of the arts made Ray smile. The flyer ducked his head, he was guilty of swiping a few of those supplies himself. He’d try not to any longer. “I’m glad, my little sister is in school in DC and she said there’s just an uproar down there cause people want to cut the arts.” Ray knew it was a hard thing for his sister who was a very good singer, like their dad. But his dad had never tried it as a career though Ray thought he could have been a really good front for a rock band. That is, if he grew his hair out and stopped wearing a suit all the time. Ray laughed and nodded his head brightly. “You’ve got it Mr. Wentsworth!” His smile widened and he couldn’t hide the excited and touched feeling that came into his heart. “Absolutely, thank you so much Mr. Wentsworth… I… it means a lot.” He corrected instead of saying how nice it was for someone to finally believe in him. It gave him a warm spot in his heart and the flyer was feeling brave for the first time since he’d thought of art as a career. He could work hard. He could do it and make Mr. Wentsworth proud.

Hearing that his art teacher had struggled in his classes made Ray feel like he wasn’t alone, like he wasn’t exceptionally stupid, because Mr. Wentsworth wasn’t. Raylaigh looked up to the art teacher and somehow knowing he wasn’t as good at school either encouraged Ray, helped him know that he wasn’t going to fail at life if he struggled to understand elementary physics. Not that there was anything ‘elementary’ about physics. He grinned and gave a knowing look. It was true, without the art teacher’s nagging he would probably not be as good at perspectives or making things look realistic. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. All those cool artists that do that street art that looks like things are falling into the road probably use it, right?” He thought those were the coolest things ever. To be on the street, but looking down at an unimaginable abyss or a magical world where he was standing on the edge of a ridge. It was amazing. Ray resisted the urge to hug Mr. Wentsworth and instead gave him a winning smile.

The flyer shrugged. “I dunno, I mean I’m probably the slowest person in the class. She tries but I get confused and I think she just gets frustrated. I mean, I am pretty slow. I don’t get half of what goes on in that class, honestly. I don’t blame her for getting frustrated.” Ray said, he never thought badly of other people, they all had their reasons and were justified. That was how he lasted so long with Jack. After all, Ray was infuriating and sometimes Jack just couldn’t hold his temper. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. So what if his math teacher sometimes lost patience and wondered aloud how he didn’t get the simple method. Or uttered a sigh when he asked a question. Though she was trying, she had him go through his tests with her and he listened to her explain where he went wrong. It was helpful, even if he couldn’t wrap his head around it all.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Now that the chaos of the moment was settling down Devon was starting to relax, though the gentle throbbing of his wrist was a constant reminder of what had occurred. Still, it was difficult not to chuckle at Ray’s assessment of them. “Seems so, though it’s not too much in common, I hope.” Ray was overall a good kid and tried hard, even though he clearly struggled sometimes, which was definitely more than could have been said about Devon. He had, quite frankly, been a little shit at times. The same was fairly true now of course, though he had settled down more in recent years.

As Ray explained about his sister’s school in DC cutting the arts Devon gave a sympathetic smile and nodded in agreement. “Sorry to hear that. It’s the same back home. Sadly some people just don’t see the arts as important, despite the fact they’re about individuality and creativity and should really be seen as more important than being able to recite numbers and dates from a text book.” He gave a small shrug. “I guess it sounds a bit hippy, but I think it’s more important to get students to be happy and expressive.” Devon of course knew that being book-smart was vital, especially in this age of having to fight for university places. However he had always been a firm believer that you could be the cleverest person on earth but still be as dumb as a brick about yourself, which would be a tragic life for anyone to lead. “Hey, no problem. I’m really looking forward to seeing what you can do.”

While Devon hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was never the smartest when it came to maths, through art he had at least learned to grasp the fundamentals required. If he could help pass on that knowledge in any way in order to help someone else, that was surely the best way to repay the teachers that had been so patient and determined with him when he’d been in the same position as Ray was now. “They definitely do, yeah. All those angles and proportions and everything have to be exactly right or they could throw off the entire piece. It even goes to things as simple as mixing paint; what percentage of red to blue do you need to make the exact shade of purple you’re after.” It was great to see Ray so brightly smiling, and Devon found himself hoping against hope that he could make this work for Ray and help get him to a standard that he (and the examiners) was happy with.

As someone who had been bullied in his youth Devon had become rather sensitive to it, and the thought of a teacher perhaps using similar tactics on a student made his blood boil. They didn’t have to be as overt as name-calling or picking a fight; it could be something as simple as calling them in front of the class for a question they clearly didn’t know the answer to, or audibly sighing when they asked for help. Ray’s answer was certainly not convincing Devon that this wasn’t the case here. He kept his voice low and calm, still pleasantly and politely conversing, curious but not questioning. Well, he hoped that’s how it came out, anyway. “Everything going okay? What do you mean, when you say she gets frustrated?”

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

Ray laughed and shrugged. He didn’t know that much about Mr. Wentsworth, so he didn’t know. But honestly if Mr. Wentsworth ended up so great, it couldn’t have been that bad. He didn’t have a very high opinion of himself, honestly. It was something he hid well and it was the reason that when people didn’t believe in him he just shut down and gave up. It was why having someone like Mr. Wentsworth believe in him made all the difference and restored his confidence in art. His love of art had almost been broken by Jack, but thankfully Jack hadn’t gotten his teeth in very far on that one, since Ray could still take the classes and the teachers in art were always so encouraging.

Nodding again, Ray frowned. “I know it really sucks, ‘cause she’s a really good singer and without chorus I don’t know what she’s gonna do.” As much as Andrea drove him nuts, she was his sister and he loved her. He knew how much she loved to sing and she was really good. “No, I agree,” Ray said, “I mean you’re right we need to know that stuff, right? But why does it have to be so looked down upon to like art and stuff? I mean my mom was a writer, but she does speech writing now in DC ‘cause her book floundered, which I think sucks ‘cause it was really good. But I think she’s worried about the same thing. So she’s kinda starting to support the whole ‘not art’ thing.” He shrugged and realized he probably talked way too much. It wasn’t like Mr. Wentsworth asked for his life story. He beamed and nodded, he would make Mr. Wentsworth proud. Very proud, he was determined not to let him down!

“Some people make it look so easy,” Ray agreed, and nodded understandingly. Okay so maybe there was a great deal of math in art. He was seriously looking forward to learning with Mr. Wentsworth. He’d failed the test on percentages and interest. Maybe it was because it was applied to money, maybe if it was more relevant to something he cared about it would have sunk in better. Like percentages of paint. It always appeared to him that most people just freehanded those amazing pieces or just adjusted the amount of paint by eye. Admittedly he knew that probably took a great deal of experience. He beamed. “This is gonna be awesome!” He felt, for the first time in a long time like there was some hope in him passing these classes.

Ray was oblivious, he didn’t see anything wrong with what his math teacher was doing. Honestly, he didn’t blame her at all, after all he was dumb as a brick. “Yep,” he confirmed with a bright smile. He didn’t recognize the questioning he was undergoing Ray continued with a smile. He shrugged, perhaps disarmed by Mr. Wentsworth’s friendly manners. “I dunno, I mean I ask a lot of questions and she’s got the other kids trying to explain it to me. She always pairs me with the smart kids for group work. I guess it just gets to her when I still don’t get it. She has be redo my tests with her and explains them to me, I think it’s hard for her because it’s so easy for her. I’m the resident dunce.” He laughed at himself with a shrug. He didn’t see an issue when she sighed when he came to get for help. And he didn’t think anything of it when she declared how easy it was when he redid his tests with her. It was very disheartening to hear how easy it was when it was such a challenge for him.