Katerina Vorontsov
June 11, 2020 12:24 PM
Welcome to Art Club! by Katerina Vorontsov
Katya looked around at her work with satisfaction, a satisfaction only moderately marred by anxiety over all the ways in which the evening could go wrong. She had presided over enough Art Clubs in the past year that she was no longer very concerned about the possibility that no-one at all would show up or that all her guests would fail to enjoy themselves, but sure as sunrise – as soon as she had started to see one issue as largely resolved, another had risen to take its place on the list of things for her to fret over.Her sister, she was beginning to fear, might actually be quite mad. She had understood – or had thought she had – why Tatya had been so difficult about everything at first – it had, she had assumed, to have been a terrible shock, being as good as engaged one day, then publicly spurned and humiliated the next. It was only natural, she had thought sympathetically, that Tatiana had seemed unable to comprehend the severity of what had happened, that Tatiana might not have been able to believe it, even, as she had kept insisting there was nothing wrong with Montoir…but weeks had gone on, and Tatiana had continued to stubbornly refuse to denounce him. And now they were back at school, along with that – wizard – her fellow prefect had humiliated her sister with…and Tatiana still strolled around her with her bosom friend as though nothing was wrong. And she had told Katya she would curse her if Katya told Mama or Papa about her behavior, even though she knew perfectly well that Katya would only snitch on her in the interests of protecting her from herself…
Not, Katya had come to realize, that it could make much difference. If it could have, then Katya might have taken her chances, but Tatiana was legally an adult now. Mama and Papa would be within their rights to refuse to allow Tatiana to come home, but they could no longer force her to leave Sonora if she did not want to. And since Mama and Papa were not barbarians, Tatiana could do as she liked in the full confidence that Mama and Papa would not put her out to starve in the street, no matter how bad whatever she liked to do was – even if Mama and Papa became angry enough to refuse to receive Tatiana in their shared home, Katya was confident that Mama and Papa would still make sure that she had some kind of roof over her head, and that meant there was little that could really compel Tatiana to behave like a lady anymore, something which terrified Katya. For one thing, it was just – it would shame their whole family. For another, she was afraid for Tatya: what man would take a wife who wouldn’t obey her father, and what was an old maid to do after her father died? And then…if Tatya would use her freedom in the ways she already had, how could anyone predict what she might do next?
A few months earlier, Katya thought, she would have at least trusted that her sister’s next move wouldn’t be something which could ruin an event Katya had planned. A few months ago, though, Tatya had never threatened to raise a wand against a member of their own family. Now, all Katya could do was hope for the best – a situation which, painfully, would involve Tatya not even coming.
It quickly became apparent, however, that the best-case scenario was not on the cards: her sister swept into the room and over to the corner where she liked to make jewelry almost regally, her expression almost contemptuous. At least, Katya thought desperately, she was dressed properly, and had her hair up…
“Good evening, everyone,” said Katya, loudly and clearly, when the clock chimed. She enunciated her words clearly, but they were still colored by a thick Russian accent. Her golden hair, which hung down her back, had been brushed until it glistened, and blue eyes looked around the room above her best American smile. She had grown over the summer; while she would never be tall, she thought she did at least manage to look like it was possible she hadn’t stolen the prefect badge shining on the front of her robes. “Good evening, and welcome to Art Club. I am Katerina Vorontsov – “ from the corner of her eye, she saw Tatya scowling at the way she introduced herself, a phenomenon which she chose to ignore – “and I am the founder of this club. I am so glad you all come tonight
“If you are new, I can explain how we do Art Club,” she continued. “We have many kinds of art here. I paint pictures, I do sewing. My sister, she makes jewelry. We have things where you can make ceramics. When we start the meeting, we – anyone who wants to – may share arts. We have snacks,” she added, pointing to a table thus laden as evidence. “Then, when no-one else wants to show arts, we all work on what we want for an hour. The room has many supplies, and paintings – “ she gestured to the portraits on the walls which were listening in – “may help you if you ask them. Or you talk to each other and share ideas and technique.”
She used her wand and a tiny frown of concentration to Vanish the cover over the nearest easel to her. A painting was revealed: a tree with a swing on it, the swing occupied by a small girl. The seat and the girl on it moved back and forth, and the leaves on the trees stirred slightly. This picture, however, would not respond if spoken to; the brush strokes were stylized, the girl a person pulled entirely from Katya’s imagination.
“I painted this while I was at home,” she said. “To show tonight. The real portrait – like these on the wall – they have memories in them,” she explained. “But this girl is not real, and I do not know that charm yet. I thought, when I made paints this summer, to look at how the potion for photograph works, and I talked to my teacher, and we figure out how to make this move when it is not a person.” This probably, she knew, made her sound a bit smarter than she was, but she didn’t blush or hesitate. “It is both charms and potions – on the canvas and on the paints – and blending paints is harder with magical egg yolk, but works better - but some brushes will melt in it, so we had to find the right ones,” she continued happily. “Does anyone have questions? Or does anyone else want to share arts?”
Once anyone who did had volunteered and had their chance, she swept the easel displaying her work back against the wall with her wand and announced that the time for individual work had begun. For herself, though, she began moving around the room, making individual greetings and making sure everyone was settling in well, just as a proper hostess should. Finally, this meant addressing the corner she had been avoiding looking at.
“Tatiana,” she said. “You have what you need?”
Tatiana looked at her without any particular expression, and for a moment, Katya thought she might really, finally understand why Americans preferred the American smile. It made it so much easier to act as if nothing had happened. “Da,” she said. “Blagodaryu, Katya.”
She knew, Katya thought, that Katya didn’t like it when Tatya spoke Russian at school. It was an open challenge. Katya bit her lip before saying, “Pozhaluista, Tatya,” and moving along.
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Katerina Vorontsov
Welcome to Art Club!
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