THE STORY OF THE MURAL

Norah Bock

7th Grade • Eliza Chappell Elementary

It was Friday afternoon around 2:45, Brooklyn’s favorite time of the week. She only had an hour left of school and her favorite class was always last. The bell would ring soon giving her 5 minutes to get to art class. Brooklyn loved hopping out of her seat in History and going to Art. The teacher would greet her with a warm smile and invite her to take a seat in the front. It was her favorite class of the week yet she dreaded walking there every time. She would have to walk past the West Wing girls’ bathroom, where she would always be picked on.

“Where are all your friends?!” one girl would yell.

“Yea! Don’t you like walking to class with ‘em?” mocked another girl.

Brooklyn would cover her ears and run past, but the worst part was her two twin brothers, Brandon and Bradley, would stand across the hall and laugh at their sister when she ran by. Tears would run down her face and she wished she didn’t have to go to art, but as soon as she got outside the door and saw her art teacher, Ms. Parkinson, she always felt better.

Today, Brooklyn was determined to make it to art without being laughed at. She got to school a few minutes early and found a way to get there without walking past the bathroom. All she would have to do is leave the building, walk around the school, and enter through the gym door. She had done it that

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morning so she felt really confident. The bell rang. She jumped out of her seat and left the classroom in a hurry. If she wanted to get to art first she would only have three minutes to run around the building. Brooklyn put her hood over her head, checked to make sure no one was looking, and slipped through the door to the back of the building.

When she got outside all she could smell were the delicious fries the school would serve for lunch. She didn’t take school lunch everyday, but on Fridays they served fries and chicken wings, yet another reason to make Fridays her favorite day of the week. She stood there for a second admiring the big mural painted on the side of the building. She had never really noticed it before but it was the most beautiful piece of art she had ever seen. It was a picture of an apple, it was so basic yet so beautiful. It had small words of motivation inside of it. It took her a moment to realize it was the mural she made in 3rd grade for the first year Ms. Parkinson got to Smith Elementary School. Brooklyn was in 7th grade now and she hadn’t looked at that mural for 4 years. She took one last look at it and turned around to head to class. She was already 2 minutes behind her schedule meaning she only had one minute to run around the building, get into the school, run up two flights of stairs and greet Ms. Parkinson. She started running, but her backpack was too heavy.

By the time she got to class, she was already 5 minutes late. She opened the door quietly and went to take her seat, but her worst enemy, Selina Gilman, had already taken her spot. She slipped into a seat in the back right corner and put her bag down. Ms. Parkinson gave her a rude look and ignored her for the rest of the day. Selina turned around, looked at Brooklyn, gave her half an evil smile, flicked her blond ponytail back and

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turned to face the front. Brooklyn’s plan had worked, but she hadn’t done it fast enough.

At the end of Art, Brooklyn packed up her bag and was on her way home. “Hey Brooklyn, I saw you looking at that mural. It has a bigger meaning than what you think,” Ms. Parkinson hinted.

“Wha-what? What do you mean?” Brooklyn questioned.

“That's for me to know and you to figure out.” She smiled, laughed a bit, told Brooklyn to go do her homework, and walked back into the school. Brooklyn stood there confused for a minute and started to walk home. She was about halfway home when she could hear her brothers walking up behind. She turned to talk to them but they ran past her and went home.

Brooklyn always took a detour on Fridays when she was heading home. She would walk over to the diner at the corner of her street. She loved it there around 4 o’clock because no one else was there and it always smelled of fresh black coffee and scones. She would take the corner booth in the front of the restaurant where she would sketch things she saw on the street into her dark purple felt sketchbook. It was mostly just sketches of dogs and couples walking by and none of them were super accurate because they would pass by so fast.

“CLINNNG!!!” The sound of the door to the diner had opened and Brooklyn looked up. It was Ms. Parkinson. Brooklyn had never seen her in here which was a surprise because she would sit in the booth for hours on end every single week. Ms. Parkinson saw Brooklyn and gave her a little wink. She walked up to the counter, ordered two fresh scones and went to the booth where Brooklyn sat. “What are you drawing?” she said.

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“Ummmm, well it's just a little sketchbook that my mom gave to me when I was eight. I just draw silly things in it that I see on the street,” Brooklyn responded.

“May I take a look?” Ms. Parkinson said in the most calming voice in the world.

“Umm, sure, they aren’t great.” She handed the sketchbook over and sat there patiently for some sort of comment by her teacher.

“These are wonderful! Wow! Where did you learn to draw like this?!” Brooklyn was so surprised that her teacher had liked them. She couldn’t speak. Ms. Parkinson sat there waiting for a response but soon realized there was not going to be one. She continued, “Well I’ll tell you what, come by my class next Friday morning and take a look at our Art Club. I think you would really enjoy it.”

Brooklyn sat there and smiled not knowing what to say, but before she could say anything, Ms. Parkinson got up, grabbed her take-out and left with a big smile on her face. Brooklyn sat there for a few more hours then headed home, with a big smile on her face as well.

The next Friday came very quickly. Brooklyn got up an hour and a half earlier than normal and put on her favorite shirt and nice black pants. She brushed her hair and teeth, grabbed an orange, and left. She took her time walking to school knowing she was going to be really early. Once she got there, she was surprised that everyone was already there. They smiled at her when she got up to the door. One of the girls, about her age, opened the door and invited her in. She felt strange in the moment because usually people would laugh at her for being

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fifteen minutes early or for joining the Art Club but these kids were different. They were like her. They made it up to the art room and took their seats in a circle. Brooklyn stood in the doorway not knowing exactly what to do. To her surprise, Selina, the girl who stole her seat in art class, grabbed an extra chair, and signaled for Brooklyn to take the extra chair next to her. Brooklyn hesitated for a second but then took the seat willingly.

She felt a little worried that the whole situation with Selina was a trap to embarrass her but then Selina said at the end of class, “Hey your art was really cool. I hope you will come back next week. You make a good Art Club member.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes definitely. Also I’m sorry that we drifted apart, I was just going through something with my sister and I was taking it all out on you. You should know you are a good person Brooklyn, and I miss being your BFF.” Selina smiled at Brooklyn, grabbed her hand and they walked off to math together.

The next few weeks had gone like a dream. Brooklyn was in the Art Club with people who liked her, she had her old BFF back, and things were ok with her brothers. She would walk from class to class with Selina and she wasn’t being picked on by the kids in the bathroom anymore. She had found the center of her world, art.

Ms. Parkinson had encouraged all of the kids in the Art Club to submit one art piece to an art contest which would then be painted on to the side of the diner where Brooklyn spent her Friday nights. She decided to paint a picture of her art room. It had silhouettes of all the kids in the art club and a silhouette of

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Ms. Parkinson teaching the class. She had a month to work on it, so everyday after school she would work on a different draft of it waiting for the perfect one to come along. She would try different styles, different colors and different angles everyday but nothing seemed right. “What is my problem? I get this one chance to show the world my art skills and I have the perfect idea but I can’t do it? It's so unfair.” Brooklyn said to herself as she lay in her bed.

“Well my dear, you might just be having a bit of an artist block.” Brooklyn gave her mom a strange look not knowing where she was going and also, surprised her mom had heard her.

“Art is like telling a story. It's just like writers block, you don’t know what to write. In this case, you don’t know what story to tell from your art.”

“Oh I get it,” said Brooklyn, “I need to find a story to tell by my art.”

“Exactly, you have time. Figure out what you want to do. What is the most important thing to you? What has art taught you? What would you like to teach others through your art?” Brooklyn jumped up. She knew exactly what she was going to do.

The next few weeks went by and Brooklyn worked tirelessly on her art project. She worked day and night on it but refused to show anyone until it was complete. Today was the day. She got up super early, wrapped her painting in bubble wrap, and set off to Art Club. When she got there, everyone else was there with their paintings as well. After they were presented, they would be sent off to the contest. Ms. Parkinson told them it would take a week to find out the winner.

Brooklyn presented her project last and everyone loved it. They

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smiled when she took it out of its protection as they realized exactly what it was. Throughout the day, everyone in the Art Club had found a time to tell her that her art was beautiful and she would probably win. She really wanted to believe them but she just didn’t know if it was really good enough.

The following week was the most painful week of Brooklyn’s life. She had to wait, and wait, and wait. She tried to keep herself busy but everything that was a “distraction” was making the time even more painful. Eventually next Friday came, Brooklyn barely got any sleep the night before knowing that during Art Club, she could possibly be awarded the space next to the diner to put her art.

“Hello Students,” said Ms. Parkinson as they all entered the art room. “I have the envelope with the winner of the contest! But I must remind you that whoever won, whether it is a friend from our school, or a stranger from another school, we must be happy for them and understand that we all tried our hardest. Understood?”

“Yes, Ms. Parkinson!” replied all the students in unisen too excited to hear who had won.

Ms. Parkinson slowly opened the envelope and smiled when she saw the name written in big across the page. “It is my duty and honor to tell all of you the next artist of this small town....” Ms. Parkinson stopped and looked at every child slowly. That anticipation was killing Brooklyn and the entire class. They were sitting at the edges of their seats. Ms. Parkinson stood up, took a big deep breath and squealed, “Brooklyn is the winner!!!”

The whole room went silent and everyone looked at Brooklyn, then with the blink of an eye, everyone jumped out of their

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chairs and ran to give her a big hug! She could not believe she had actually won! “Oh my,” Brooklyn had no words. “I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!!!!!” It had been the best day of her life and she couldn’t have done it without her Art Club family. She would soon be standing on a stage in front of the town announcing her new art piece!

The months flew by and it was finally the day where Brooklyn finished the mural. She put on her best dress and walked down to the diner. People were already there waiting impatiently to hear the amazing story behind the mural.

“Hello Everyone,” Brooklyn started, feeling a little nervous but mainly excited for this new chapter of her life. “I am sure you are all very excited to hear my story and I am excited to share it! I would like to start by thanking my family not only at home but the new family I have made through my art. Thank you Ms. Parkinson for showing me my true passion and thank you Selina for sticking by my side.” She winked at Selina and continued, “My art piece is not just any art piece, it is my life. It has every important thing, human, and expression that I have experienced. It shows the story of how art brought me closer to my true self and others around me. It shows the story of community. Before I met the wonderful Art Club, I was nothing, but now I have friends, and family, and most of all, I have art. So thank you to everyone who has helped me find my true passion. I will never forget you. This is for you Art Club!”

Brooklyn turned to face the mural and the crowd went crazy. This year had been the craziest year of Brooklyn’s young life and she couldn’t wait for what was to come next.

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