Page 15 of Kiln Me Softly

‘You must have had somewhere rather exciting to be yesterday, Jupiter,’ Chris said as she walked into the workshop the following day.

To Aiden’s surprise, she wasn’t late this morning.

Just dishevelled, her hair piled up in a lopsided…

something. It didn’t qualify as a bun, since half of it had fallen out, but the intention was there.

After his first glance – accidental, of course, because he absolutely had not been watching the door to see if she’d make it to class – Aiden kept his head in his sketchbook, his fingers smudged grey from the graphite.

He heard Jupiter falter on the threshold, then stutter out the same excuse that she’d given him in the library: an unexpected work shift.

He wondered how on earth she planned to get through the year if she was dividing her time with working, and then decided it wasn’t his problem.

That little twinge of worry in his chest disagreed, but he played it off as his new normal anxiety.

It came and went in waves, so much a part of his everyday rhythm now that it no longer surprised him, only made him uncomfortable, but his anti-depressants and daily jogs took the edge off that.

If only his doctor could prescribe something similar when it came to Juniper.

‘Well, you can tell your boss that my classes are far more important, next time,’ Chris said as he peered into his laptop. ‘Your schedule is there for a reason. Keep to it or don’t bother studying here at all.’

Juniper said nothing, only brushed past Aiden’s desk to the seat behind him.

He shivered against the cool air she carried with her, scented by a deep cherry perfume that had driven him mad, both at the party and before it.

It was worse, now that he knew how it tasted: like almonds and bitterness.

He was too aware of it, too aware of every fibre of her.

He decided that, before the lesson started, it was time to bite the bullet and swivelled around on his stool.

From his pocket he produced a crumpled leaflet he’d seen in the library yesterday, plucked from the front desk on his way to class.

He placed it on her desk, sliding it between her hands so that her lowered gaze would see it.

‘What’s this?’

‘What does it look like, Hodge?’ He couldn’t keep the light teasing from his tone. ‘An exhibition on myths and legends at the British Museum. It’s only on this weekend.’

He might not have held her interest, but this certainly did.

Immediately, her dull eyes brightened as she scanned the front page, then flicked through the images of exhibitions that detailed some of the displays.

He felt a little bit proud to have cheered her up, but he convinced himself it was only because that was usually impossible.

Anybody would have felt good about it. It was like getting a yes from Simon Cowell.

‘It’s free entry?’ she asked.

‘Yep. Figured it would help with our research paper – if you can stand to walk around a museum with me for an hour or two, that is.’

She hummed, an edge of weariness flattening her tone. The tip of her thumbnail flicked across the chipped purple nail polish on her index finger. ‘I’m supposed to work, but I can try to leave early. If I can stand it.’

He rubbed his jaw if only to hide his smirk. ‘It closes at eight, so let me know. If you can’t make it, I’ll send you a postcard from the gift shop.’

She slid the pamphlet away and muttered, ‘Wonderful.’

The rest of their classmates filed in, a hungover Tom soon vying for Aiden’s attention with a story about last night’s antics.

He’d been asked to go with them to a local club, but having made the mistake of partying too much once before, he’d politely declined in favour of venting to Luc about Juniper’s bullshit behaviour.

Since Luc had already walked in on them mid-sex, he figured he could tell them the rest, even if Luc pulled faces and complained it was TMI quite often.

Other than that, they were pretty chill, and never made Aiden feel like a burden.

They’d even opened up about their family in Paris, how they didn’t know they were non-binary yet and London was their chance to truly be themself.

He’d never been able to talk to his friends at Elmington like that.

They’d never gotten personal, their connection expressed in the form of dry taunts he was all too talented at joining in with.

As much as Aiden wanted to fit in with the laddishness of it all, it only seemed to stave away anything meaningful, a fact that was proved when Aiden went through his darkest period alone.

He pushed off the desk, returning to his own, when Chris called for their attention with a loud, ‘Hello!’ through cupped hands.

‘Oh, good. That invisibility spell didn’t work after all.

Now that I have your attention, let’s cover a few things.

Number one: group projects.’ He indicated the number on his hand with a waggling index finger.

‘By now, you should have settled on a topic and started your research. How might I do this? some of you may ask. Well, back in my day, we started with these things called books.’ He picked up a gigantic copy of Ceramics in Modern Times , waving it around until it fell out of his hands and back onto the table with a thwack.

‘Books look like this. You’ll notice that they have been printed on paper and written by scholars, which, strangely enough, makes them much more reliable than Google. ’

‘What about Wikipedia?’ Tom asked.

‘Do not say the devil’s name in a place of worship, Timmy,’ Chris scolded. A few people laughed, Juniper included. The sound scuttled through him like vibrations across violin strings, left him wanting more. More, he’d likely never get.

‘If you really want to impress me, and you should, you might consider going outside.’ He motioned to the windows with a dramatic flourish.

‘You see, some of the buildings out there are called museums. They have art and sculptures that may just help you on your way. And speaking of museums, I have bad news. While I’m not going to hold your hands and take you on cutesy little walks around the local galleries, which are more than accessible without my help, I do think it mandatory to visit the pottery capital of the UK during your studies.

In January, I’m off to Stoke-on-Trent, and I would encourage you all to join me.

Well, that’s a lie. I don’t really want you to.

But I am doing it for your benefit, so I guess you’re all welcome. You can sign up on your student app.’

‘You mean, where they film The Great Pottery Throw Down ?’ Tilly asked excitedly.

‘Yes. You may stand in the very room where many a reality TV show contestant has cried on camera. How exciting.’

Tilly wasn’t the only one looking forward to it. Nomi was practically bouncing off her seat, and Amir held his hand up for a high five that never came from Tom.

‘All of the deets, as the cool kids call them, will be sent via email closer to the time, but the university has arranged our stay, so you’ll be glad to know that everything bar food, drink, and train tickets will be free.

’ Chris returned behind his work desk, where a wedge of clay sat ready and waiting.

‘Now, moving on. Throwing isn’t the only way to make things, and quite frankly, I’m alarmed at how many of you are utterly terrible at it, so today we shall be hand-building. ’

‘Yes!’ Juniper shouted triumphantly, causing everyone to turn around. She sunk back down with a, ‘Sorry.’

‘Dear lord,’ Chris muttered, and then went back to explaining by flicking through his PowerPoint.

A display of ideas was shown, offering everything from mugs to delicate sculptures in all colours and sizes.

‘This should be a project you’d like to include in your final portfolio at the end of the year, so I’m not going to tell you what to do here.

All that’s required is that you create something you yourself have use for – whether it’s in your kitchen, living room, et cetera.

You can use any of the techniques we’ve covered so far, and you will be glazing next week after a trip to the kiln, so don’t fluff it up, otherwise you’ll have to stay behind to catch up. ’

No pressure, then . Aiden stretched out his fingers, eager to get to work. Only his imagination seemed to fail him as soon as he looked down at his clay. Without the safety of the throwing wheel at his disposal, it was entirely possible that he might, in fact, fluff this one up.

Ten minutes later, Aiden still had an untouched slab of clay and zero ideas. Around him, his classmates were busy creating their pieces, using both tools and their hands to form an array of shapes. Tilly’s already resembled a bowl. Amir seemed to be making a dinner set.

In the end, he decided he’d better play it safe and used the mugs displayed on the board as his starting point.

He could worry about making it stand out when it came to glazing, but for now, anything would do.

He was more than capable of something this simple.

He’d studied art his whole life, after all.

So why did his hands shake when he began to wedge the clay?

He needed a break, needed to stop overthinking. He turned around on his stool. Paused at the sight that awaited him.