The semester was almost over and my current art project still wasn’t finished. I had been top of my class for everything except the new section we had begun the week before. I hate clay, and I have since that art class my senior year of highschool. My teacher, Ms. Brook, had allowed me extra time after school until I could get my piece complete.
Mr. Gibson was the other art teacher; new to our school. He was also the drama 1 teacher. I had been in drama for four years of high school, but senior year was my only year of art. I had steadily become close to Mr. Gibson from interaction as he helped out Ms. Brooks in our class and I saw him in and out of the auditorium where drama was taught.
He was an interesting man, almost always of good humor and very sweet as well as talented. He was about 36-I believe- and around 5’10” and of a slightly thick build, not fat but no where near thin. His hair was a bit wild but fitting of his character, it resembles more of a Willy Wonka style in it’s curliness.
Over the course of the semester we laughed and teased over many things. I grew quite fond of him. I started looking forward to art third period just to tease him and see him-even if he just sat at the computer across the room. During our painting projects I found myself staying after class-during lunch-to work. Mr. Gibson would sit near by to keep up the conversation. And always offered part of his lunch or candy bar-quite insistently. Soon he began to use pet names when talking to me, which at first I found odd but at the same time didn’t mind. Often I’d find his eyes watching me as I moved around the class and shamefully at the time I enjoyed it.
Before Thanksgiving break I had become incredibly sick and missed the last few days of school. When break was over and I returned-with a choking cough- Mr. Gibson showed deep concern and always asked about my slowly improving health. He continued to ask but at the same time in showing concern, he slowly became more dista... Läs hela novellen
