Portrait of Us Read Online Free

value. The art world is big enough to appeal to everyone, regardless of personal taste.”
    â€œSorry, sorry,” I said, hands held up in a truce gesture. She was right. I was all classical, but Ava loved anything and everything. I didn’t want to offend my best friend. “That was rude of me.” Obviously Teni had seen something in his art.
    â€œOkay, thanks.” She smiled again and smoothed the front of her dress. The air-conditioning kicked on and ruffled her hem as her legs dangled over the side of my bed. “Well, I hope it works out for you. And if you get bored, draw some pictures of him for me.” She waggled her eyebrows.
    I snorted a laugh. “Yeah, sure, because that’s super subtle. He’ll never notice that at all.”
    Ava stood. “I won’t keep you from your art. I just wanted to say hi. We’re going to visit my aunt in Kentucky over the weekend, so let’s plan to hang out next week sometime? You can tell me more about your class and how unattractive you think Matthew is.” She crooked her mouth in a knowing grin.
    â€œOkay,” I said with a groan. “He’s . . . attractive. I’ll give you that.” I remembered the way his blue eyes had fixed on me, andmy face flushed all over again. “But he’s my competition. Besides, he and I have nothing in common.” I didn’t care about sports at all. I didn’t like his art style. What would he and I even talk about? If the chance ever arose to talk, that was. Um, not that it would, because I was going to stay focused.
    â€œUh-huh. Maybe if you sat down and talked to him, you’d find out you have more in common than you think. Like, maybe he enjoys chick flicks and Chinese takeout too.” She giggled.
    I shoved her lightly. “Sure. Maybe he and I can discuss the artistic values of our school logo.”
    Ava gave me a quick hug. “Text me a picture when you’re done,” she said. “I’m eager to see how this one turns out.”
    When she left, I turned back to my drawing. A good start for today. Tomorrow I’d block in the base colors and make the image come to life. And pray that my technique was strong enough to make my painting stand out among the crowd.

ChapterThree
    T he small old woman stared hard at the croissants. She tapped her wrinkled lips with a pudgy hand. “I can’t decide if I want three or four,” she mused.
    I smiled and dusted my flour-coated hands on my jeans. “Take your time, Miss Figler. I’m right over here if you need anything.” I stepped a few feet to the left and kneaded the pizza dough a little more, getting it to just the right texture.
    â€œCorinne?” she asked. “I think I’ll have four. And a couple of your grandfather’s scones. They’re the best I’ve had since I visited England.”
    â€œGrandpa loved London,” I told her. “I think he studied under a baker while he was there.” I prepared her order and boxed them, then rang her up. Then I divided the pizza dough into separate bags and popped them in the freezer.
    Saturday mornings were either super slow or super busy. Right now we were having a slow stretch. But it gave me time to get caught up on packaging call-in orders, make more dough, and clean up my station.
    The only downside was, I wasn’t quite distracted enough to keep my mind off my art project. In yesterday’s class, I’d turned in my entry. I’d stayed up late every night this week working on getting it just perfect. Long after my family had turned in, I’d hovered around my easel, washing layer after layer of watercolor over the image.
    When I’d put the last touches on it on Thursday night, I’d collapsed in exhaustion in bed and nearly overslept yesterday morning.
    Almost every student in class had turned in a piece for the competition. My stomach had been in knots. A few students in