Dad squeezes my shoulder. This means the conversation is over.
Another voice shouts Hi Caitlin! and a big hand comes into my Personal Space so I back up.
Say hello, Dad says.
Hello.
Look At The Person, Dad reminds me.
I keep my head down but tilt it enough to see one of his ears.
Dad says, Cait-LIN, in his warning voice.
What? That’s closer than The Hat!
Say something nice, Dad hisses.
When Dad hisses he is serious. He will not let me leave until I say something nice. I try to focus. I stare at the ear. What can I say that’s nice? Finally I realize and say it. I don’t think you’re disgusting just because you have hair sticking out of your ear.
Dad pulls me away by both shoulders which means the conversation is over NOW.
I look around for Michael because his mother was shot like Devon so he should be at the fun raiser too. I know he’s Josh’s friend now and not mine but I don’t like all of these people so I wish I could at least see him. Suddenly a face is in front of mine and coffee breath goes up my nostrils and a voice says, I have someone I bet you’d like to meet.
I bet she’s wrong.
She grabs the hand that isn’t holding Dad and I yank it away from her.
I’ll go with you, Dad says.
We follow Coffee Breath Woman to an easel with a light on it and I stare at it.
See? I thought you’d like Mr. Walters.
I don’t know who or where Mr. Walters is but I do like the easel. There is a cartoon picture of a boy on it. He has a tiny body and a huge head. His mouth is grinning so much that his cheeks push his eyes up at the corners so even his eyes look happy like the photos of eyes that Mrs. Brook has shown me about a million times.
A man’s hand appears and adds tufts of sticky-outy hair to the giant head.
I laugh. Maybe this will be a fun raiser after all.
You like it? a man’s voice says.
I nod. Normally I don’t talk to strangers but if he can draw like this he can’t be that strange.
I’m Charlie Walters the middle school art teacher, the voice says. Shall I do your picture?
I do my own pictures, I tell him.
I mean, shall I draw a picture of you?
No. Why would I want a picture of me?
Your dad here might want a picture of you.
I shake my head. He sees me every day. He doesn’t need a picture.
But this is a different kind of picture. This captures personality and emotion.
I Look At The Person. I look at the hand with his pencil. It’s just a charcoal pencil. Like mine.
He chuckles. You don’t believe me?
I shake my head.
I’ll show you. Sit down over there.
No. I want to watch you capturing someone’s emotion.
Draw me, Dad says, and he sits on a little stool beyond the easel.
I watch the cartoon character grow from a potato head to a porcupine head to a Dad head. Mr. Walters puts the ears on the head first then a nose then a mouth. He squints at Dad for a while before he even draws the eyes. He is very careful with the eyes. He draws them in stages from the outside in. He doesn’t stop when he gets to the inside though. He takes a blue pencil and draws little colored dots and lines that make the eyes look deep and textured and full. And something else too. They look sad. I stare at Dad’s real eyes and I think I see the sad there too although it’s easier for me to see it in the picture. The picture doesn’t blink or look away.
You should do the Facial Expressions Chart at school, I tell Mr. Walters. You would do a much better job than the one we have now.
He nods once and smiles. Thank you very much. He pulls the sheet of paper off the easel and gives it to Dad and hands me a charcoal pencil. Would you like to try drawing me now?
I’m not so good with people. Or emotions.
I think you’re observant though and that’s the first step.
I Look At The Person. I stare into his eyes. His eyes look happy but not a mean laughy kind of happy. Are you happy?
Yes. Now let’s see if you can draw that.
He is still holding his charcoal pencil out to me so I take it.
Mr. Walters gets up and walks over to the stool and sits down facing me.
Dad is standing behind me. Go ahead. Draw Mr. Walters.
Well don’t WATCH me! I can’t draw if you’re going to watch.
All right. I’ll wander around the room and look at other things. Okay?
Okay. If there’s a fishing booth let me know because those always have good prizes. And if there are any gummy worms grab some before they’re all gone. Please.
I stare at the huge blank paper in front of me. Usually I only have small pieces of paper.
I see a hand waving around the outside of the easel. Yoo- hoo! You have to look over here.
I peek around the easel. It’s Mr. Walters.
Start with the outside of my head like I did with your dad.
So I do. I make a Mr. Potato Head. Then I add hair but only a little because Mr. Walters doesn’t have much. The nose is easy and so are the ears. The mouth is harder because usually I look at mouths when there are words coming out and right now there are none coming out of his. It’s flat. I do notice some curves and creases though so I put them in.
Feel free to use the colored pencils or pastels too, he says.
I shake my head. I don’t use colors. My drawings are black and white with no blurry stuff. It’s easier to see that way. Blurry is good for stuffed-animaling but not for drawing.
Mr. Walters tilts his head like he doesn’t Get It but I don’t want to explain right now because I’m busy drawing.
Wow, a voice behind me says. That’s so awesome! Did you really draw that?
I put my arms over the picture to cover it up before turning around to see Emma from school.
Let’s see it, she says.
No.
Come on! Keep going! I want to watch!
I can’t do it if you’re watching, I tell her.
Please?
No!
A hand squeezes Emma’s shoulder. A woman’s voice says, Let’s give her some space and we can come back when she’s done.
Emma makes a snorty sound but moves away.
Good. I’m still stuck on the eyes of my picture however and I stare at the paper.
You need to look at my eyes, Mr. Walters says.
I sigh. Are you related to Mrs. Brook?
No. Why?
She always wants me to look in her eyes too.
Eyes are the windows to the soul, Mr. Walters says. If you look inside the eyes you can see so much about a person.
I Look At The Person including his eyes. Really?
He smiles and nods.
But there is something wrong with his smile. I stare into his eyes. Maybe what’s wrong is his eyes. They don’t look happy like the photos of happy eyes Mrs. Brook has shown me. Maybe his smile is not big enough to push his eyes up at the corners like happy eyes are supposed to be. Something’s wrong, I tell him.