‘Hmm,’ is all that comes out of my mouth as I squint in thought. I thought tradition and village news was what the people of Springhollow wanted.
Mrs Bride chuckles and shakes her head. ‘Sometimes we get so caught up in thinking we know what people want that we forget to ask them or we do what other people want and end of up losing ourselves, and we never can grow when we do that. No, dear, we get so stuck being what everyone else wants us to be that we don’t get to show them who we are. And who we are might actually be just what they need – they just don’t know it yet. You need to show them. You need to open their eyes,’ she says patting me gently on the hand.
I swallow down the lump in my throat, afraid that if I speak, I will cry. So, I just sit there and stare at her hand in mine.
‘You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a birthday card with a cyclops holding a love heart and balloons. There’s plenty of teddy bears out there but sometimes I just don’t want a teddy bear. You and Hope have all these empty pages at your disposal; you get to create the stories those pages tell,’ she adds.
‘That’s not really up to me, Mrs Bride. Hope’s in charge but I will pass on your advice,’ I say, finally finding my words, though they come out small, full of excuses, and I can’t look directly at her friendly face.
‘Nonsense, sweetheart. Hope would be lost without you; she tells everyone so. True, she has a lot on her plate in running things and yes, she has creative control, but she sings your praises from every rooftop. Why do you think that Christmas stall has been handed over to you for the past four years? You took a leap, you let her see a special side of you. Now, Miss Scarlett, there’s plenty more special in there – you’ve just got to let it out,’ she tells me, pinching my cheek when she’s finished before slowly standing up.
I say my farewells to Mrs Bride, giving her a tight hug because I still can’t quite find the right words to express how much what she said meant to me and I wave to Autumn, quickly wishing her a wonderful getaway, before I’m out in the icy air once more. The threatening blizzard has calmed in the cold air and has decided to take residency in my head instead. Could what Mrs Bride just said be the something big that I was looking for? “Think like Scarlett,” choruses in the back of my mind.
Have Hope and I been going about this magazine all wrong? Subscriptions have dropped over the last year as had single purchases. Surely, that was a sign that it had grown stale and the people wanted something new. My heart starts racing as fast as quicksilver. Mrs Bride talked about empty pages. She remembered my drawings growing up and she was right: since Hope had taken over the magazine I had taken leaps in sharing my ideas each year for the Christmas fair. I may have hidden my drawings, but I had expressed my creativity in a different way and the village had loved it. Could it be that they might accept more of me if I dared to show them? I don’t have to leave Hope, but I don’t have to give up on my dream either. How had I never thought of it before?
Empty pages. Empty pages. The words keep ringing out in my brain. I pay attention to those ones and choose to ignore the other voice that’s reminding me that Devon had said that very thing only yesterday and I had gotten angry with him.
I supress thoughts of Devon and race up the stairs, practically skipping across the floor towards mine and Hope’s office. My palms are sweating but I have an idea. When I walk into the room, I’m greeted by Hope waving a letter in the air and squealing. Her eyes are enormous through her giant glasses and she’s grinning like a child who knows Santa will be visiting in only three days.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, hand on my chest, tired from my skipping excursion.
‘You won!!’ she shouts, with enthusiasm. ‘You won!!’ She grips onto my shoulders.
She makes it difficult for me not to smile when she begins to jump up and down on the spot; her excitement contagious, but I have no idea what I’ve won or why I’m now bouncing up and down.
‘What did I win?’ My brows knit together in confusion, contradicting my lips that are smiling a happy yet nervous grin for Hope.
‘You won the opportunity of a lifetime. The School of Visual Arts runs a summer program and you just won the opportunity to attend next year,’ Hope explains, slowing down her jumping up and down so she can do so.
My brain already being a flurry of activity is finding it hard to let this new piece of information in to comprehend it. I stop bouncing. ‘What? But I didn’t enter a competition.’
Hope shrugs like there’s a magic fairy going around just granting people’s wishes that shouldn’t be questioned. ‘You just won a spot on a prestigious art course to hone your craft. This is amazing, can you please look more excited,’ she says, shoving me gently.
I walk over to my desk feeling dumbfounded and take a seat. ‘Hope, what’s going on? You can’t expect me to be excited when I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I say, looking at my best friend as her bright smile is replaced by a sigh and a nervous grin. She pulls up a chair from in front of her desk and sits down next to mine.
‘Don’t be mad,’ she says, and I give her a pointed stare from under my lashes. I have heard that too many times this week. My stomach somersaults. ‘Devon kept referring to you drawing. I know you are creative. I love the way you build and craft and decorate your house, but I’ve never seen you draw. I was dropping off the chairs and bits and pieces from the fair and thought I’d take them up to your storage room for you.’ She pauses and I shift uncomfortably in my seat and close my eyes.
‘You shouldn’t have gone in there,’ I say, but strangely enough I don’t feel angry or mad, just defeated, like the fight in me to hide that part of myself has grown too tired.
‘Scarlett, your artwork is out of this world and I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t share it with Jess and me. I’m sorry we failed you as friends and you felt you couldn’t let us see that side to you. We never would have judged you or laughed.’ Hope’s face is crestfallen; her cheeks are as white as the snow outside. I immediately sit up in my chair.
‘Don’t be stupid, Hope. You and Jess have never failed me, not once. I love you both so much,’ I say urgently, not wanting to see her look so heartbroken. She looks up at me, her eyes glistening.
‘But we didn’t see you, not like Devon. When he’s around, you have this spark, this smile that I’ve never seen before. He pushes you and challenges you and I just accepted you.’ She flicks a hand over the collar of my ruffled baby pink blouse.
‘He’s had a few extra years than you and Jess to push me and my buttons – that’s for sure,’ I scoff, tears pooling in my eyes. Hope chuckles and passes me a tissue, getting one for herself too.
‘I saw the comic book on your desk. I couldn’t put it down. When Jess saw it, he said it was competition-worthy and spoke to his friends at work to see if anyone knew of any. I looked on the internet and found “The School of Visual Arts” and the best part is it’s in New York,’ she informs me, wiping at her eyes and smiling now, excitement creeping back on her face. My stomach plummets to my feet.
‘I can’t leave you,’ I say, feeling the same wall go up I felt yesterday when Devon was encouraging me to do the same thing.