Free So Feral! by J A Mawter Page A

pretended to yank the lemon off a tree. ‘It has been r-r-r-ipped from its muzzer and cast …’ the entire front row ducked, ‘into ze cruel vorld.’
    Arthur groaned, thinking, This is supposed to be Art, not Drama.
    ‘Fruit for a fruitcake!’ he whispered to Carlo. ‘Arssur!’ called Miss Alperstein, ‘I heard zat!’
    Arthur’s face fused with colour — commonly referred to in the art world as shading . With eyes down, he mumbled, ‘Sorry, Miss Alperstein.’
    ‘Back to vork!’
    Arthur nodded, saying, ‘Yes, Miss Alperstein,’ and picking up his pencil.
    With a mind of its own, his sketch began to multiply.
    Arthur gently poked Carlo in the ribs. He nodded at his own drawing, directing Carlo to watch. The pencil hovered, before swooping in to draw two smaller circles inside the larger outlines. Arthur looked to see Carlo’s reaction.
    Carlo frowned, shrugging.
    ‘Ven I look at your lemon I should be able to feel its veight, heavy, in ze palm of my hand.’ There was a cupping movement from Miss Alperstein.
    Arthur squashed a grin. He made a cupping movement of his own. With a wink at Carlo, he picked up his pencil and began drawing two even smaller circles inside the others. Carlo watched, then began to giggle.
    Using firm quick strokes, Arthur coloured the circles in.
    Carlo went into convulsions, his shoulders going like jackhammers from behind.
    Using two hands, Arthur exaggerated his cupping movements.
    The jackhammers went into overdrive.
    ‘I vant to be able to taste your lemon!’
    At that, Arthur erupted with suppressed laughter. He couldn’t help it. He watched in horror as spit flew from his mouth, straight into Alison Grant’s hair. Luckily, she didn’t notice.
    ‘Arssur!’ Miss Alperstein’s voice boomed from the front of the room. ‘Bringk me your drawingk.’
    Arthur’s shading turned a deep vermillion. He didn’t know which was worse — slagging into Alison’s hair or having to show his drawing to his teacher. Making sure to avoid Alison’s eyes, and with a heavy heart, Arthur made his way to the front of the room.
    Miss Alperstein plucked the paper from Arthur’s reluctant hands. She inspected it, turning his drawing this way and that. Her eyes pinged open. ‘Arssur!’ she gasped. ‘Zese are breasts!’
    Deep vermillion turned to an even deeper purple.
    Giggles exploded around the class.
    Miss Alperstein peered down her long nose. ‘Zis is a choke?’ she rasped.
    Choke? Yes, thought Arthur. With embarrassment. But out loud he said, ‘Joke? No, Miss Alperstein.’ Arthur held his breath, watching as Miss Alperstein’s nostrils flitted in and out like swarming killer bees. He waited for a tearing-paper sound.
    It didn’t come. But things did get worse.
    Miss Alperstein turned Arthur’s drawing round to show the class. ‘Zis is an attempt to draw ze human form.’
    Arthur inspected the floor. It was the only safe place to look.
    ‘It’s passetic! Only great artists can do justice to ze naked body.’
    Michelangelo, Cézanne, Raphael! thought Arthur. He knew them all.
    ‘You sink you are clever, Arssur. Let me tell you somesingk, you are not a great artist. You are just a silly little boy …’
    How dare she! Arthur stood there, fuming.
    ‘… who knows nussingk about art!’
    I know more about art than you ever will, thought Arthur, his mind racing. I know my sketch is good. Sort of like a Renoir. Besides, you’re the one who started this with your round and firm .
    ‘Arssur! Face ze class. Class! Arssur vill model for ze rest of ze lesson.’
    To model and not to draw. Nothing could be worse! Arthur groaned, turning to his classmates.
    ‘Notice ze dark hue in ze cheek area.’ Miss Alperstein was smiling now. ‘Ze vay ze light bounces off ze glistening nose. And class, I especially vont you to notice zat ze smugness has left ze face!’
    ‘Vitch,’ muttered Arthur, careful to emphasise the ‘v’. He felt like a butterfly pinned to a specimen board.
    Miss