Ryan only looked up from his desk when the bell rang and the late crowd settled in around him. There had been relative quiet while the students pushed each other through the doorway; now they took their seats and resumed a dull buzz of chatter: most was in English, obviously, but the Hispanic kids in the back were talking amongst themselves; and there was even a French conversation taking place on Ryan’s left. He recognized Carol-Ann and Cathy without even turning toward them, because they were talking about Carol-Ann’s birthday party, which would be taking place next week and to which Ryan had been invited.

He had politely declined with the excuse that he and his aunt Michelle would be cleaning house all weekend. That was true, but Aunt Michelle would have let him go out if he’d asked. Ryan just…neglected to mention that fact when he turned down Carol-Ann. He had said “no, thanks” simply because he knew what she and Cathy were doing. They shared Aunt Michelle’s motive-the very reason Ryan could have attended the party but decided against it:

They wanted Ryan to get a boyfriend. Michelle said it would be good for him-Carol-Ann and Cathy just prattled on about how cute gay couples were. Ryan reminded all three of them that he was single by choice-leave it alone, already. Since then, they’d sort of toned it down. Good.

The second bell rang. In rushed the stragglers and, behind them, Mr. Withers, the advanced art teacher. Ryan thought the man’s name fit him amusingly well. He was handsome-couldn’t have been over the age of twenty-six-yet he had fine laugh-lines around his mouth and his hair displayed a slightly grey tint. Ryan had great appreciation for the man’s personality. He could be quirky at times, often to the point that he shared no common traits with any other teacher on the planet. Plus, he burned incense in his classroom. Bonus points.

“Good morning,” Mr. Withers chimed. His students bounced the greeting back at him. “As you know,” he continued, “we are nearing the end of the second quarter. For you, that means your end-of-the-year project, which will be worth seventy percent of your grade and most likely take seventy percent of your free time to complete.”

At this, a collective groan rose from the students. Mr. Withers only smiled. “Ah, but I haven’t even explained your assignment! It IS one you will need parental permission to do.”
Now there were excited whispers. What art assignment could possibly require a permission slip? Mr. Withers gathered this question and was swift to respond: “Assuming parental consent, you are each to find a model to study. I do not care who this model is, so long as he or she is not in this class and is of your sex. If you have to ask why, I suggest you go back to kindergarten.” The class snickered; the teacher continued. “The reason this assignment requires parental consent is that I ask that you live with your model, because you are to do more than just draw them; you are to understand them inside-out…and because the final step in this project will be a sketch of artistic nudity, with your model as the centerfold. “