Designer Drama Read Free Page A

movement.
    â€œSo they kind of all marched to their own drummer?” Mickey asked, taking it all in. “Cool!” The plaque also pointed out that impressionist paintings were considered shocking and radical to eyes accustomed to more sober colors.
    â€œI bet I would have gotten along great with these guys,” she added.
    â€œI love this one—for obvious reasons,” JC said, pointing to a Renoir of a young woman dressed in pale blue with a tiny, white dog at her feet. “Now that’s a perfectly painted pup.”
    But something else caught Mickey’s eye across the room—something magical.
    â€œWhat in the world?” she asked, getting closer to a painting of groups of people in a park. When she was almost nose to nose with the painting, all the images of the people, the trees, and the grass became millions of tiny, different-colored dots.
    â€œHow do they do that?” Mickey wondered out loud.
    A man with a blue beret, a pointy gray beard, and a black eye patch overheard and answered her. “It’s a technique called pointillism,” he said. “Seurat was the master, no?”
    â€œNo… I mean yes!” Mickey said. She noticed that the man had a slight French accent. “I love all the colors and how they blend so seamlessly together into a bigger picture.”
    â€œYou have a good eye for art,” the man said. “I do too. You see?” He pointed to his one good eye and laughed. Then he noticed her outfit. Beneath her jacket, she was still wearing her cancan skirt and mismatched boots. “And for fashion as well?”
    â€œI try.” Mickey blushed. “Are you an artist?”
    â€œA teacher.” He extended his hand to shake. “I’m Tony.”
    â€œI’m Mickey.” She motioned toward JC who was still admiring the Cézanne. “My friend brought me here to learn about French art.”
    â€œWell,” Tony continued. “Your friend is very wise. This is one of the greatest collections of French impressionism in the world.”
    JC came back to stand beside Mickey and glared at Tony. “And you are?”
    â€œThis is JC,” Mickey said, introducing her friend. “And this is Tony. He knows so much about pointing-ism.”
    â€œPointillism.” Tony chuckled. “The painting technique Seurat uses.”
    â€œYeah, well, good for him.” JC sniffed. He took Mickey by the arm and pulled her toward the gallery exit.
    When they were outside on the steps to the museum, Mickey finally had time to catch her breath. “Really, JC? That was so rude!”
    â€œRude? You promised your aunt Olive you wouldn’t talk to strangers. I turn my back for five seconds, and I find you having a whole conversation with Bluebeard the pirate!”
    Mickey chuckled. “You are so overly dramatic,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “He was just some nice gentleman who liked French art.”
    â€œHe looked suspicious to me,” JC said. “Like an international art thief. Or a spy!”
    â€œHe said he was a teacher. And he did teach me about pointillism. Now I have a great idea for my sketches.”
    JC smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”

When Mickey got to class Monday morning, she couldn’t wait to show Mr. Kaye what she and JC had worked on over the weekend. She had so many sketches that her binder was bursting with them.
    â€œSettle down, settle down,” Mr. Kaye said as he entered the studio. “I have a splitting headache.”
    â€œUh-oh,” Gabriel whispered to her. “This isn’t going to be pretty. He’s in a bad m - o - o - d .”
    â€œI can spell,” Mr. Kaye said. “And I have extremely sharp hearing.”
    Mickey gulped. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to show him all of her ideas. But it was too late not to.
    â€œMickey, you’re up first. What do you have to present to the class?”
    Jade