Chapter Twenty-Six

May 1995

There was something about being at school when it wasn't school time that felt rebellious or naughty, even if it was for a school event. Everything about being there felt different. The lights were brighter, the carpet in the hallway bluer, and it didn't smell like tomato sauce or whatever was cooking in the cafeteria. Actually, tonight it smelled like fresh-baked cookies—chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin.

This wasn't the first night Mandy's parents had gone to her school, but this was the first time Mandy's art was going to be on display.

It was GAT's first official "A Night for Stars" program, where the theater and music kids would perform, and there would be a gallery showing off every student's artwork. Mom said something about it being because of the school's new director, but Mandy didn't care why. She skipped along through all the kindergarten and first graders' art until she came to the wall full of all the second graders' projects. Mom and Dad lingered behind, carefully inspecting all the drawings and paintings along the way, commenting on this or that, but Mandy didn't pay much attention. She wanted them to see her art. Their art teacher had been keeping it all year to display for this very occasion.

"Mandy, nice to see you." Her art teacher, Mr. Wu, held out his hand for a high five, and Mandy jumped into the air before slapping his palm with hers, unable to contain her excited energy anymore.

"My mom and dad are here too." Mandy turned around and pointed at them as they finally came wandering up behind her.

"It's so good to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Dean," Mr. Wu said. "You must be so proud of Mandy. She's one of my best students."

Mom didn't hang Mandy's art on the refrigerator like they did at Isa's house. She had black frames that hung on the walls where she would periodically swap old pieces for new ones. The one exception was the rainbow that hung in Dad's office. As soon as that painting came home, it went up there and never got taken down.

"She's our little Picasso." Mom laughed.

"Hopefully not as tragic, but talentwise she's well on her way." Mr. Wu chuckled. "Have you seen what she's been working on this year?" He led them to the middle of the second-grade display, where one of Mandy's paintings hung right in the center. For this project, they were each supposed to select an animal and paint it as best they could. Mr. Wu had expressed the importance of showing detail and texture, and where most of her classmates decided to use the natural color of the animal they chose, Mandy went the completely opposite way. She picked bright colors in varying shades, and she layered on the paint and used the edge of her pencil to carve grooves into it when it was drying.

Dad put a hand on Mandy's shoulder and squeezed.

"Looks like I'm going to need to buy another frame," Mom said.

"This one is mine too." Mandy walked a little farther down and pointed to another one of her pieces. They had to use charcoal for that one, so it wasn't as bright, but she thought it still turned out pretty good.

"You're going to need a lot of new frames, I think." Mr. Wu gave Mandy another high five. "If you'll excuse me." And he left them to go talk to other parents.

"So tell me about this one," Mom said. That's what she always did. She never told Mandy what she thought, or commented on anything; she would always ask her first.

"We got to pick out different objects from this big box, and I thought these flowers were the prettiest," she told them. "They were kind of an ugly orange color, but since it's black-and-white, you can't really tell."

Dad chuckled.

"I think they're beautiful." Mom beamed at her. "This one here is yours too, isn't it?" Mom walked a few paces down and picked out another one of Mandy's pieces.

"How did you know?" Mandy asked.

Mom leaned down close to Mandy's ear. "Because it's one of the best."

Mandy smiled so big her cheeks hurt.

After she got to tell them about each one of her art pieces, and they listened to music, and they watched a skit from the theater department, they headed out to the car. Mandy skipped along even if the night air still held the heat from the day and sweat built up on her nose. It didn't matter.

"I don't know about you, but I could really go for a dip cone," Dad said.

Mom raised her brows at him. "It's Mandy's night, so I think that should be up to her." She turned to Mandy. "What do you think?"

Dad winked, and she said, "Dip cones for sure." She grabbed his hand, and then she grabbed Mom's in the other.

Pop Rocks danced in her belly. Mom had said her art was the best—even better than some of the older kids. And now they were going out to get ice cream. On a school night. As her arms swung forward and then back, in sync with both her parents, Mandy smiled so big she bet the moon reflected off her teeth—even though she was missing one in the front.