“Were they staring?” Scarlett didn’t even seem to mind the juice stain on her outfit. “I didn’t notice.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Bess said.
But, she couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was time to worry about Scarlett a little bit.
Scarlett was klutzy. She wore weird clothes and had an even weirder hairstyle. The others were sure to laugh at her. Wouldn’t they laugh even harder when the realized Scarlett still didn’t know her specialty?
The only fairy who had ever taken so long to realize her unique skill was Prilla, who could appear to Clumsy children so that they believed in fairies. Prilla’s talent was one-of-a-kind, which was why nobody had known. Art talent isn’t like that. Scarlett really should know her specialty by now.
Once they finally began eating with the others, Bess relaxed. Peculiar as Scarlett was, she was definitely friendly — and smart, too.
For instance, as Scarlett listened avidly, Leo described his latest work in progress, a mural of the seashore. Then she said, “How fascinating. You must have trouble with the water, though — it’s so much blue. Does it overwhelm the rest of the painting?”
“Sometimes,” Leo admitted. “I’ve varied the shades, from baby blue to indigo, and that helps. But I keep thinking it needs something more.”
Scarlett tilted her head to one side as she considered it. One of the twigs slipped loose from her hair and clattered to the floor, but Scarlett didn’t seem to notice. “Have you considered painting a windy day, instead of a calm one?”
Leo snapped his fingers. “Of course! If the sea is choppy, then the waves will be white with foam. That will make the whole mural more interesting. Great idea, Scarlett!”
The other art-talent fairies grinned. Nobody even made a face when Scarlett picked up the fallen twig and twisted it back into her hair. She definitely had the instincts of an artist, that was certain.
As the serving-talent fairies took the empty plates away after dinner. Scarlett and Bess rose from the table. “You must be tired after your first day,” Bess said.
“I feel too excited to sleep.” Scarlett hugged herself. “It’s just so beautiful here! Why, look at these clover chains — that pale green is gorgeous!”
With that, Scarlett grabbed the clover chain and picked it up. She probably only meant to encourage Bess to take a closer look. But when she pulled the clover chain, it snaked across the table. The chain tangled around the glasses and plates, pulling them from their places — toward the edge of the table until they fell.
The glasses and dishes smashed to the floor, scattering into dozens of pieces.
“Oh, no!” Scarlett cried.
“It’s okay.” Scoop hurried over, ready to clean up. “People break glasses every so often.”
Bess’ glow blushed as brightly as Scarlett’s red hair.
Scarlett didn’t blush. She said to Scoop, “Are you sure you aren’t mad?”
Scoop sighed, then smiled. “No, I’m not. It’s sort of funny, now that I think about it.” He laughed, and Scarlett did too.
Some fairies had already left the dining hall, but many remained and had seen the whole thing. Bess could hear the whispers:
“The new one certainly is awkward!”
“Poor thing.”
“I wouldn’t want her near anything I was working on.”
Bess put her arm around Scarlett’s shoulders. “First thing tomorrow, you should come to my studio,” Bess said loudly. “We’ll see if you have a feel for painting.”
“That sounds great.” Scarlett looked perfectly happy. Bess smiled uncomfortably, trying to remember all the fragile things in her studio she’d need to hide away before tomorrow.
4
BESS GLANCED AROUND her tangerine-crate studio. As usual, it was quite untidy. Paints and brushes lay everywhere. Stray canvases were stacked in every corner.
As soon as she tucked her last glass jar behind some old blankets, she heard a rap on the side of the crate. “Bess? Are you there?”
“Hi, Scarlett. Welcome to my studio.”
Scarlett came inside. Scarlett’s eyes lit up as she saw Bess’ red and gold abstract painting. “Did you do that? It’s beautiful. So emotional!”
“That’s what I’m working on now.” Bess admitted, “Most people don’t like my abstract pictures.”
“It reminds me of a rose,” Scarlett said. “I think it’s marvelous.”
Bess smiled. The praise pleased her, and she now knew Scarlett had very good taste. Maybe she’ll turn out to be a painter after all! she thought.
Scarlett asked, “Will we be working on that painting today?”
“I thought we might try something different. Let’s stretch our canvases and get the paints,” Bess said. “We’ll have to be ready to begin before Fawn gets here.”
As they stretched white canvas over frames, Scarlett said, “How will Fawn be helping us?”
“Recently I’ve wanted to paint a portrait of a baby animal. So I asked Fawn to find a willing model. She’s an animal-talent. She should be here any moment.”
“Baby animals are adorable,” Scarlett said, watching as Bess smeared several paints upon a palette. Then she began doing the same herself. “Oh, I hope I’m a painter!”
As they finished preparing, Bess heard Fawn call, “Hello there!”
“Fawn! We’ve been waiting for you!” Bess hurried to the door of her studio. “Who have you brought for us to paint? — Oh!”
To Bess’ dismay, Fawn stood at the door with a baby skunk.
“Here’s your model!” Fawn announced cheerfully.
“Yes, but — a skunk? He won’t—” Bess pinched her nose with two fingers and waved her other hand in front of her!
“Oh, no, he’ll be fine.,” Fawn insisted. “Skunks only spray when they’re frightened. You won’t scare him, will you?”
“I think he’s lovely,” Scarlett said. “The contrast of black and white in his fur should look very striking in the painting.”
That’s true, Bess thought. She smiled gently at the little skunk. The skunk scampered into the studio, ready to pose.
“Look at him,” Fawn giggled. “He’s flattered!”
The little skunk had fluffed his tail. He turned his head this way and that, trying to look more handsome.
“Perfect,” Scarlett said. “Hold it just there! You look great.”
The tiny skunk preened.
Bess got to work right away. She sat at her easel, and Scarlett sat at hers, a few feet away. Fawn hovered several steps behind them, watching them work and keeping the baby skunk company.
Soon Bess was too absorbed in her painting to notice what the others were doing.
A few shadows here — maybe a little white there — Bess stuck the tip of her tongue out of her mouth, the way she often did when concentrating. Then hurriedly she pulled it back in. She didn’t want to appear silly in front of the others!
“Scarlett?” Bess said, still looking at her own canvas. “How are you doing?”
“Um.” Scarlett paused, then repeated, “Um.”
Bess turned from her painting to look at Scarlett’s. Her heart sank.
Although Bess’ painting was hardly more than a few lines on the canvas, the shape was clearly that of a skunk. Scarlett’s painting didn’t look like a skunk. It didn’t look like much of anything. All Scarlett could paint was a scribble. And not even a black and white scribble!
Fawn flew a little closer and frowned. “Is that supposed to be a dragonfly? I can bring one here, if you want.”
“That’s all right, Fawn. We’re fine,” Bess said quickly. She was worried about the disappointed look on Scarlett’s face. Thinking fast, she suggested, “Maybe you should try something abstract. Like the painting of mine you liked so much.”