Bitter Sweet

Mediterranean blue! That’s the only way I can think to describe the colour of the eyes looking at me from across the room. I have never seen eyes that shade before. My ex-boyfriend, Tom, had piercing blue eyes, and some of the girls at school have them too, but these eyes are different. These eyes are like the sea when the sun is at a certain angle and the colour is so deep that it makes you dizzy to look at it. Oh my God! I can’t look away. I’m dizzy and drowning at the same time, looking into this boy’s eyes that are… come to think of it, looking at me quite persistently from the other side of the room.

Eventually I tear my gaze away from his eyes and look at the rest of him. Dark hair – almost black! How can that be? Black hair and blue eyes? Never heard of that. Dark hair and dark brown eyes, yes. Blond hair and blue eyes, yes – but this is definitely a combination I’ve never seen before. Black T-shirt, jeans and a dazzling smile directed at me! I look behind me in case there is someone else standing there, in case the smile is meant for them. But no, it appears that he really is looking and smiling at me! I blush and look away, then I look back at him and try to smile too. Suddenly Miss Hughes’s voice, which had faded into oblivion while I was swimming in those pools of blue, jolts me back to reality.

‘Would you all like to settle down now, please? We will start with a still life in charcoal,’ she says, pointing at a rabbit’s skull and a piece of driftwood on a slab of marble.

‘Mmm, very still,’ I think with a giggle, and look over at the boy again, searching for his dreamy blue gaze, to make today’s class a little more interesting.

I wish my friend Linda liked art. This class would be so much more fun if she was here too. We always have such a laugh together. But unfortunately art is not really Linda’s thing. I did try convincing her to come with me but she wouldn’t have any of it. ‘It’s all right for you, Miss Artistic,’ she said to me, after I nagged her for days, ‘but I can’t even draw a straight line. Besides, it’s on a Saturday morning! I can think of better things to do.’

Linda wasn’t the only one I had a hard time convincing about the merits of this class. My dad was very resistant to it too. I tried to explain to him that it was my art teacher at school, Miss Mayiou, who had suggested I take this art course. She thinks I’m quite talented, but Dad just said, ‘I can understand the benefits of having extra English lessons, but if you are good at art, surely your lessons at school should be sufficient.’

‘ My teacher says that I can experiment and learn more,’ I persisted, ‘and besides, it would be good for my English, because I would be speaking with the other kids…’ I added, knowing that this reasoning might just do the trick.

‘ That’s a good point, Yianni,’ my mum said. ‘You know how she always speaks Greek when she’s around us. It would do her good to have a few more hours of English conversation.’ Then she gave me a little wink behind his back. My mum is very keen for me to study art, as she is a frustrated artist herself. She never had the opportunity to study it, so she is determined I will do it for the both of us.

‘ Well…’ my dad finally said, not sounding totally convinced, ‘so long as you continue with your extra English after school with Miss Hammond on Thursdays. Don’t forget you’ll be doing English for GCSE as well next year and you still have a long way to go…’

Actually, I had thought my English was coming along fine, but I guess he is probably right. I do have a long way to go if I’m going to take any exams here in England. Talking with Linda and the other girls at school is doing wonders for my conversational English, even though I still make them laugh sometimes with my mistakes. But that’s not going to be enough if I want good results in my GCSEs.

‘ Can I sit here?’ I hear someone asking, bringing me out of my thoughts. When I turn around to see whose voice it is, I come face to face with the dreamy blue gaze. He’s holding his drawing board under one arm, his paper and charcoal under the other, and at the same time trying to drag a chair towards the table so he can sit next to me.

‘ Sure,’ I mumble, and move over to make space for him.

‘ My name is Sam,’ he says, smiling. ‘Who are you?’

Who am I? Wow, that’s a big question, I think to myself, and then realise he’s just asking my name, and not an account of my family lineage or my purpose in life. ‘Julia,’ I say, blushing and trying to get a grip. Why do I always turn into an idiot when a boy I like talks to me for the first time?

‘ Have you been here since the beginning?’ he asks, as he arranges his materials on the table.

‘ Yes,’ I reply shyly.

‘ Cool. I’ve been doing the sculpture class up until now, but I decided to change. Do you go to school near here?’

‘ No, but I live quite near, so it’s easy to come on a Saturday,’ I tell him. ‘You? Your school is near here?’

‘ Not far… I like your drawings…’ he says, looking over my shoulder at a page in my sketchbook, which is full of girls’ faces, lips, eyes, high-heeled shoes and a million attempts at drawing pretty hands.

‘ Thanks…’ I say, blushing again, and trying to discreetly cover the drawings with my hand. ‘They’re just doodles…’

Suddenly I realise that I’ve been having an actual conversation with someone who hasn’t asked me where I come from or what nationality I am. Strange, I think. That’s the first thing people usually ask me when they hear my accent. I’m sure he doesn’t think I’m British – my English isn’t good enough… and then my thoughts are interrupted again.

‘ Now, I want to see from this drawing how you deal with variations in tone,’ Mrs Hughes says, then adds rather curtly, ‘so concentrate and no talking, please.’

Sam gives me a smile and does something funny with his eyes that makes me want to giggle. Maybe I’ve found someone to have a laugh with like I do with Linda – only with dreamy blue eyes and a sexy smile. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy my Saturday mornings even more now.