Prodigy

By Zara Ijaz

Soft nylon bristles enveloped in a dark blue hue stroked the surface of the canvas with reeling precision, touching the canvas one last time to add the final touches.

"There....done." the frail boy seated in front of the giant canvas whispered under his breath as he set the paint brush down.

A tall figure strode toward him, curiosity melting into wonderment with each step taken closer to the painting.

"My my...you’ve outdone yourself again Max!” his teacher exclaimed, words getting lost amongst the waves of the painting as her gaze darted across the canvas trying to take in every miniscule detail.

‘Thanks Miss Brown” Max smiled cheerily.

“This is my take of the terrifyingly yet beautiful ocean.” He said, taking a few steps back from the easel and using his fingers to ensure the proportions were correct.

"That's it, you're definitely signing up for the next National Art competition held at the Gallery.. I remember what a success you were last year..." She smiled softly, still gazing at the painting.

“Just think about all the good it’s gonna bring this small, run down school, we'll finally be in the same league as the private institutions of the country after having such a huge prodigy among us...Do you even realize how big that is!"’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight at the thought of her success filled future being Max’s art “mentor."

‘But..” His face turned into an awkward expression.

"No time to waste. I must share this idea with the headmaster immediately, andd perhaps later on throw in an art exhibition showing off your beautiful work!” She clapped her hands delightedly, looking over at Max enthusiastically.... or maybe greedily?

Miss Brown began to quickly make her way to the headmaster’s office to share this supposedly exciting idea.

He frowned subtly hearing those words. Prodigy? That word made him uneasy. Is that what he was? It reminded him how much of nothing but a money maker he was for this school, his train of thoughts clouded with unpleasant memories once again.

Flashback

Last year, the school once again out of greed forced Max to participate in the International art race conducted by one of Paris' top art institutions, offering a hefty prize of € 50,000 to the winner. Max, being the talented gem he is, smoothly secured 1st place with his masterful copy of Girl With The Pearl Earring by Johannes Vermeer, in under 40 minutes. It sounds lovely, doesn't it? Winning prizes here and there and showing the world what a master of your skill you are. But that seemingly merry occasion was cut short woefully. While standing on stage receiving the award from the judges in a wave of cheers and applauds, a woman from the management silently made her way up the stage and whispered would be horrifying news into Max's ear.

"I'm sorry, I just got news that your father passed away.”

His body froze in that moment. Vision blurred. The cheering of the audience rung faintly in his ears, and the sight become a hurricane of colors as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Max...Max! Are you alright?" One of the judges shook Max’s shoulder, as he noticed the tears drip down his face, but got no response.

"I think we should escort this boy down stage right now.. Something’s not right." he said to the other judges with a confused face, quickly signaling personnel to cut short the show.

Max's father. What a warrior he was. The reason why Max stood up on stage holding those prizes was because his father was the one who bought him a canvas and paints with the few pennies he had left, and awakened the artist in him by being his biggest supporter and source of inspiration since day one. But now, it was all gone. Max realized he was now alone in this world. Who would appreciate his artwork? Who would make him laugh while he was upset from bad work? Who would he run to when he needed help or supplies? Not Miss Brown, and neither could the million admirers make up for it.

And funnily enough, after winning a whopping prize which was essentially for the purpose of paying for his father's cancer treatment, the school kept it all, with the excuse that he doesn’t have his own bank account.

Present

"No! I won't do it again!" Max shouted.

Miss Brown paused in her tracks, looking back at him confused.

“What did you say?”

“I said I won’t do it” he said, storming out the room with watery eyes.

A prodigy. An unusually talented child from the rest of the lot, a child that is born with a beautiful gift and is destined to luck their whole life.

But what in the case of Max?