Wendy stepped back and frowned at the canvas on her easel.
When her instructor asked her about it during the next critique, she would need a suitably articulate and profound answer, but none was coming to her now.
“Dub-Dub, that looks so cool!” exclaimed a familiar voice by her elbow.
Wendy pushed a loose lock of hair out of her face, remembering too late that she’d probably left a streak of teal paint on her forehead. “Hey, Lace. Thanks.”
“I love how the roses kind of change color when you move your head.
” Lacey Thornfield swayed back and forth a few times, as if to take in as many of the colors as possible, then linked her arm with Wendy’s. “I,” she announced, “am on a mission.”
“Okay.” Wendy wasn’t even remotely surprised by this statement. “And what’s the aim of this mission?”
, my friend,” Lacey said emphatically. “You’ve been in here since dinner. That was hours ago, and the snack bar’s still open. Come and get a coffee with me.
Unless that thing has to be done by tomorrow?”
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