“Lissy,” India said to me as I was leaving class later that day. “I heard you landed the deal.”
“Yeah,” I said, and I felt slightly giddy again. But even so, the rush of being the illustrator for some famous children’s books was almost worn off already. I had David Charles’s mania to thank for that.
It was kind of disappointing.
“Congratulations.” She seemed genuinely happy for me.
“Yeah, I . . .” I repeated “I” several times as I tried to think of something to say. “I just — I can’t believe I got it.”
“What are you talking about?” she said. “You’re one of my best students.”
“Really?”
“Haven’t I told you that before?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s true.” India smiled, pulled her long braid over her shoulder, and began to unravel it.
“It’s just . . . you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“I’m, well . . . I’m nineteen.”
She’d finished undoing her hair, and she leaned forward and shook it out. “Yeah,” she said, “you’re pretty young.” She straightened back up. “And it’s unusual, especially for someone your age. Highly unusual.”
That wasn’t making me feel better. “Yeah,” I said.
She grinned. “Friends in high places,” she said. “David Charles is . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the distance. “Quite a character,” she said finally, returning her gaze to me and smiling. “I’ll tell you something. I think he probably needs somebody fresh and inexperienced like you.”
“What do you mean?” I got a mental image of a cannibal at a human meat store, telling the butcher that he wanted something young and fresh, because it wasn’t as tough and chewy as older meat.
I shook my head.
“Well . . .” She paused, like she wasn’t sure if she should be telling me this. “You know, there were other illustrators they looked into. Professionals, I mean.” She smirked. “They . . . weren’t up to the challenge.”
Who knew India could be so diplomatic?
Labels: january brings few faces
