Question Two

2. Of course I think so. It's the best I've seen.

  Cally stepped back from the painting. It was missing...something. She'd chosen paint as the medium because she felt most comfortable with it, and the landscape had seemed the right choice but she just couldn't make it her own. She could tell her teacher was thinking the same, so Cally carried her work with her that November afternoon to the cinema. Now on a Sunday morning it sat looking at her in the garage which she had persuaded her parents to redecorate into a studio.

  "I don't see what's wrong with it." Joe frowned and tilted his head, as if trying to find an error with the painting that Cally had seen long ago. She shook her head.

  "It has to be my own slant on things. It's all very well copying Van Gogh or Monet but that's hardly going to get me a good stead with the universities. All the stuff there looked so...not this." There was a pause. "I mean, I'm not saying it's not good. I know I'm good."

  Joe held his hands up in mime of a brass instrument. "Can I hear your trumpet being played? By you?"

  "Shut up! Just because I have a big head. But don't you get worried sometimes? About the future?"

 "I spose. But I know how it'll work out." Cally raised an eyebrow and Joe was compelled to continue. "Well we're both going to go to university, and get top marks. And then you'll get all rich being this amazing artist and they'll open up The Cally Gallery and demolish those rubbish Tate Modern galleries." Cally snorted at Joe's blunt view on art. These scientists...

  "And I suppose you'll have some Joseph Green Foundation for Chemistry or whatever."

  "As if...I'm going to find cures for all the diseases. Simple. So we don't have to worry: all the crap the teachers give you now will be useless unless you remember my wise words of wiseness."


 "Shush." They looked at  one another solemnly, then burst out laughing. Cally couldn't help looking back sceptically at the painting.

  "So you think it's good?"

  Joe looked at it for a second, and scrunched his mouth up as if to go off on a tangent, but then he smiled. "Yeh, s'alright I spose." He smirked at her offended expression, and then ran off as Cally grabbed a paintbrush.



The End

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