Volunteers

If one had given Empty City High’s art room only a cursory examination, one could be forgiven for missing the young girl amidst the mess of materials. Sketchpads were layered across the floor, pencils were scattered randomly across the room, pieces of chalk huddled together in little groupings on the floor, and open cans of paint were stacked into towers rising precariously high.

Amongst this sat the Ivory Woman, carefully moving her paint brush across a canvas. Her pale skin and hair made her seem almost ghostlike, an impression which was only strengthened by her white clothing. The intensity of her concentration on her painting was so strong, she didn’t even notice when another girl entered the room.

“Um, excuse me….”

The Ivory Woman made a yelp of surprise and jumped, accidentally knocking over one of the towers of paint, causing an open bucket to land on the head of the newcomer, spilling red paint all over her.

“Ohmygosh I’m so sorry!” Ivory said, and started to walk over to help. But her foot landed on a pencil, which rolled away underneath it. She tried catching her balance with the other foot, but the sketchpads on the ground were hardly a stable floor, and she fell, landing in a cloud of chalk dust. Her canvas teetered precariously for a few moments, and then fell, knocking over another tower of paint.

“Are… are you okay?” The new girl said.

Ivory didn’t seem to notice the question. She sat up, and coughed a few clouds of chalk, and then scrambled over to her canvas. The spilt paint had spread all over it, completely destroying the image. “Oh no, not again….” Ivory said, her eyes starting to get wet.

“I’m… um… sorry about your picture….” The girl said, still taken aback by the sudden chaos.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Ivory said as she used her sleeve to wipe away her tears, smudging more chalk on her face. “I’ll just… start over. Again.” She stood up, and put on a smile. “I’m the Ivory Woman. How can I help you?”

“I’m the Wooden Girl. Mr. Steward sent me here to talk to the art teacher…?”

“Oh. Um….” Ivory thought for a second. “I don’t think we have one of those.”

“You don’t have a….” Wooden looked around the messy room. “Where’s the rest of the art class anyways?”

“It’s just me.”

“You’re… the only student in art?”

“Yes.”

“And there’s no teacher?”

“Yup.”

“So… you just come here and draw by yourself for a whole period?”

“Yes!” Ivory nodded enthusiastically.

“….Okay…. Then I guess I should give this to you.” Wooden pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, and handed it to Ivory. “We’re trying to get people to join our performance of ‘The King in Yellow’ so we can participate in a theater competition, and we wanted to know if someone in the art department could make posters like this to advertise for us.”

Ivory looked over the sketch. “Yeah, I can make something like this. I just… um….” She looked at the mess around her. “I just need to clean up a little bit first….”

“Thanks! Let me know when it’s finished. I need to go and recruits volunteers.” Wooden started to walk to the door, but stopped when a thought struck her. “And, um… good luck. Try not to hurt yourself.”

***

“…so then I tried to make a will roll to resist, but I got a one, which meant….”

“Intrusion, have I ever told you that your games are the dumbest thing ever?”

“Ah, come on Dying, they’re cool. You know you want to give them a try.”

A part of Dying admitted to himself that he did. But that was a part which he would never allow to be spoken out loud.

A hand suddenly grabbed Dying by the shoulder. He started to shout, “Get off,” at whoever was accosting him, but when he looked at who the hand belonged to, he saw a painted face with glaring eyes. Only a moment of trying to look back into the intense fire of that glare, and he found himself having to fight the urge to grovel.

“Neither of you are in any electives, right?” The girl who’d grabbed him said.

“No….” Dying just managed to stop himself before he added “ma’am.”

“Good. You’re joining theater.”

“But….”

“We’re meeting after school today in Mr. Stewards room. Be there.” Then she walked off.

Intrusion leaned toward Dying. “What just happened?”

“I… don’t know.”

***

Wooden laid out the poster on the cafeteria table. “This is the first draft that Ivory made. If Mr. Steward likes it, we’re going to print more out and start putting them up around the school.”

Salmacis looked over the poster. It looked nice, although she didn’t think she was qualified to make critical judgments about art.

“So will you ask your sisters if you can switch out of swim team into theater for this?” Wooden said. “I was really hoping I’d be able to work with you on this….”

Inwardly, Salmacis flinched. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation with EAT. “I’ll try, but….” Something on the poster caught her eye. “Hey, what’s….” She pointed at the poster.

Wooden looked where Salmacis’s finger was indicating. The specific line read, “Band and choir members needed. Please speak with Mr. Dooling.”

“Oh, that?” Wooden said. “It’s a musical, so we need people to perform the music. Except according to Mr. Dooling, his students are about as bad at music as Steward’s are at theater. So I also need to find volunteers for that too….”

Salmacis was only half paying attention. In her mind, she was reliving her first day of school… getting lost… bumping into someone….

“Are… you okay?” Wooden said. “You look a little red….”

“Yes! Fine!” Salmacis jumped out of her chair. “WherebandcansignupI?”

“… What?”

“Where I… band… signing….” Salmacis took a deep breath. “Where. Do I. Sign up for band?”

“Um… Mr. Dooling’s room. Which is… I think it’s on the 2nd floor today. East wing.”

Salmacis was already packing up her things before Wooden had even finished speaking. “Weren’t you going to talk to your sisters first?” Wooden said.

“Easiertoaskforgivenessthanpermission!” Salmacis shouted as she sprinted out of the cafeteria.

***

It was a lonely walk from the cafeteria to the library for the Cold Boy. He wondered about that sometimes. There should have been enough students in the school to cram the hallways, but Cold almost always found himself making these walks alone.

“Hey! You!”

Cold kept walking. It was probably just someone trying to get their friend’s attention.

“You! Sad looking kid walking away from me!”

Maybe they actually were talking to him… no, not possible. No one talked to him.

Cold felt someone grab him from behind, and spin him around. “Listen to me when I talk to you!”

The girl who’d been shouting was dressed in all black, and had far more makeup on than was really necessary. She also happened to be glaring at Cold with a burning anger he had never seen before, but he didn’t notice that much. He was too shocked that someone was actually looking at him for once.

“What’s your name?” She said.

“I’m the Cold Boy….”

“Right. I’m…”

“The Wooden Girl. We have math together.”

She seemed taken aback, and the anger left her eyes. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

“… and history…”

“Oh. Erm.”

“… and English…”

“Um….”

“… and biology….”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Geeze, I said I was sorry!” The anger was back now. “You’re not in any electives, right?”

“No….”

“Good. You’re signing up for theater. We’re meeting after school today in Mr. Steward’s room. You will be there.”

“O-okay….”

With that confirmed, Wooden let go of Cold and marched off to find more volunteers.

Well. That was weird, Cold thought to himself.