I step back and look. It seems complete.
Ms. Johnson comes over and looks at it. She barely glances before saying, "Wonderful, wonderful. Fantastic job." She's forgotten my name again. I doubt she'll ever remember.
I leave it on an easel and walk out of the classroom. No one looks back at me. No one calls my name or asks me to meet them at their lockers. I keep walking. Soon I am beyond the reach of our cloistered middle school existence into worlds beyond. High schoolers pass by. None of them look at me either. They have their own worlds, worlds that tower far, far above me.
I keep walking.
I pass by gyms, full of sweating people eager to leave, empty classrooms with dusty whiteboards, administrative offices, cafeterias with congealing food left on trays. The people I see get fewer and fewer and even they don't give me a second glance.
I keep walking.
Soon, I am beyond it all. The sterile art classroom is far beyond me and I am walking on a field. Maybe some play football here in the heat of the noonday sun. That's not part of my life, though. There is a fence in front of me. Beyond that are trees and a buzzing highway.
I keep walking.
I walk through the fence, and all the trees disappear. I don't know where I am. There is no one here. I smile.