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For the first time in his life, Dustin was enjoying school.

Riverglen had no such view. It was a converted manufacturing building in the industrial part of town, and still smelled like chemicals. But it had three-story-high glass walls for natural light, the classrooms enormous and full of woodworking machinery, welding equipment, and every art supply under the sun. And while the thought of stepping on a stage made him literally feel dizzy, they had a fully equipped theatre as well, with lighting and a sound booth.

Dustin loved it.

The curriculum was self-directed with no set test or exam dates, only a list of things they needed to complete or turn in within each ‘season’. Some students worked on each subject for a section of each day, mimicking traditional academic structure, while others crammed all of their least favourite subjects in over the course of several weeks, doing all the work at once and then not having to think about it again until the following season. Students were able to spend as much or as little time on each subject, all of their teachers available to them at all times for group or individual assistance in each area.

Students ages ranged from ten to seventeen, the school blurring the lines between elementary and high school.

When they weren’t studying traditional subjects like math, science, and English, students had unlimited time to spent on the arts.

There was a music room, where students played brass and wind instruments, piano, guitar, percussion… studied symphonies and composers and often stayed late after school composing their own songs, practicing classical music or playing heavy metal.

A dozen or so students were self-directing a musical called Frankenstein M.D., a modern interpretation of Frankenstein in which a woman suffering from Munchausen’s disease falls in love with a disgraced doctor who purposely disfigures her.

Miss Nancy, or Just Nancy as she always insisted, supervised the visual arts program. They did oil and watercolour work, technical perspective drawings, still-life… Dustin had never seen so many colours or tools with which to paint.

But it was installation art that had stolen his heart.

Never having had access to large space, large materials, or large tools, Dustin had never seen or heard of installation art before. He’d been working on a new segment for his dragons, the blue-green dragon having been gravely injured in battle and the black beast shielding her from the continuing hellfire of arrows and fire with his body, when he’d taken a break and wandered around the large room, touching the strange scrap metals and bits of wood. He’d laid some pieces out on the floor, arranging them like the petals of a flower, when Nancy had come up behind him and cleared her throat.

“May I make a suggestion?” she’d asked. Dustin had nodded. “I think it would look better upright, in 3D.”

“How?”

He’d been paired up with a set of twins named Joshua and Jillian, and at first he’d been stressed and upset; Nancy had never pushed him to work as part of a group before, she’d always seemed to know how uncomfortable it made him. But Joshua and Jillian were as quiet and awkward as he was, never bothering to make small talk. They just waited while Nancy patiently introduced them all.

“Joshua has a talent for woodworking,” Nancy had said, “and Jillian is quite an accomplished welder. I think they can assist you in making this three-dimensional.” She had gestured to his pile of materials on the floor, and both of their faces had lit up.

They’d worked on it for three weeks straight, erecting posts and beams and structures that would support the mega flowerhead he’d designed without looking like support structures. He wanted the majority of the materials to be high up in the air, to look like they were floating, so that apart from some stems and vines that you could touch from the ground you had the feeling of being under the sea, looking up at the bottoms of a bunch of flowers floating on the surface.

In the end, they’d designed a metal grid and installed it directly into the ceiling, hanging the majority of the pieces with thick cords that disappeared into the structure of the petals.

In March, the school hosted an open house for parents, friends, family, and community to come and visit the school, see what they were working on. Dustin had invited Shane and Laney.

Laney arrived alone, but Dustin knew Shane would come when he could. He was working for Cary, now, and never seemed to finish before 9:00pm, sometimes later. They’d hardly seen him since going back to school, Laney making due with late night phone calls. She often fell asleep with the phone on her pillow and a book in her lap, reading out loud to him until she passed out.

Laney laughed herself silly at the songs in Frankenstein M.D . She’d toured the art gallery, lights shining on canvases of all sizes, with awe and delight. The band played a beautiful mix of symphonies and original compositions throughout the night, some solo artists playing alone in rooms with smaller displays like sketches and replica work, or clay sculptures.

But Dustin’s installation was by far the most popular display of the night.

Laney stood beneath it with tears in her eyes, a large crowd gathered around it with their heads back and their mouths open.

“Fish faces,” Dustin smirked.

Laney elbowed him.

“These tunas are here for you, Dusty,” she said, squeezing his hand. “This is…”

“Magical,” came a voice from behind them. Dustin smiled as a tired-looking Shane walked over with dirty hands and oil-stained jeans. Laney squealed with delight, running at him full-tilt and launching into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and sending him stumbling backwards. She grabbed both his cheeks in her hands and kissed him, hard.

A few parents tittered, smiling at them, and Shane tried to put her down, a blush creeping up his neck, but she dropped her face into his shoulder and tightened her grip. He sighed, shifting her weight in his arms in resignation, and walked forward carrying her like a baby strapped to his chest.

Several of Dustin’s older classmates, the girls, eyed Shane with interest.

So did some of the moms.

“Dustin, my man, this is like… out of this world,” he said, looking up at the piece.

Laney kept her face in Shane’s neck but reached out and took Dustin’s hand. The three of them stood like that, staring at his work, the crowd staring at them, until a severe looking woman with a tight, grey bun in an ugly tweed suit approached them.

“Dustin Hawton?” she said, glancing down at a clipboard.

Laney slid down Shane’s body and Dustin eyed the woman wearily. She had an air of authority about her, and kind of reminded him of the Child Protective Services ladies that came around all the time when they were kids, asking stupid questions.

“My name is Mildra Grosse. I work for Henry Bard?”

She was staring at them like that should mean something. When they didn’t respond, she pursed her lips, annoyed, and produced an expensive-looking business card.

“Mr. Bard is a collector and would like to speak with you about this piece. He’s interested in commissioning you for a custom installation for an upcoming exhibition at the A.G.O.”

Dustin felt like he was choking. Too much, too much, too much… Shane and Laney were looking at him with comforting expressions.

You’re fine, they were thinking at him. Just breathe.

Mildra grew impatient.

“This is a very big deal, young man,” she said, her voice harsh. “Dozens of professional artists would give up a kidney for this opportunity!”

“Mildra,” Nancy interrupted in her soft, sweet voice. “I assure you, he’s just taking it all in. Would you give us a moment?”

Mildra scowled but took a step back, crossing her arms, poking herself with the clipboard as she did it.

Nancy put her hand on Dustin’s shoulder and swayed into his space, the golden bangles and beads on her arms tinkling. Laney looked at Nancy’s hand on Dustin and raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised that he was allowing it. But Nancy always made him feel… better.

“Dustin, I want you to know there is no pressure, here. This is a school, not a store. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But… I know Mildra. She might seem a little… uptight… ” Nancy’s mouth twitched, and Dustin grinned, “but she knows her stuff. I’ve worked with her before, I assisted with a Henry Bard show back in ’94…” A dreamy look passed over her face. “Anyway… it’s the real deal, Dustin. Real artists, professionals, in a real museum. If you’d like to meet Mr. Bard, to see if you want to do a project with him, I could come with you. Help you.”

“And what do you get out of it?” Laney asked, her eyes narrowed.

Nancy smiled warmly at her. “Art,” she said simply.

Laney and Shane stared at each other in silent conversation before Shane looked at Nancy.

“Miss…?” he started.

“Just Nancy."

“Nancy,” Shane said, “all of this is Dustin’s call. Whatever he wants to do, we’ll support. But… I have to be straight with you. Parental consent will be an issue, if required.”

“Your mother signed the paperwork for the school, did she not? I’d think that the possibility of paid work would be an easy sell?”

“My older brother is our legal guardian, now,” Laney said, her voice thick with venom. “He doesn’t like Dustin coming here. Doesn’t believe in the whole… art thing.”

Nancy bit her lip. “Dustin… is this something you would like to consider?”

Dustin blushed, but he nodded, drawing a spiral on the floor with the toe of his shoe. Nancy stared at him for a long time. Finally, she turned back to Shane.

“I can sign on his behalf, as a representative of the school. But Dustin, I have to warn you, if we do it this way, you won’t be paid. We’d have to do it as a school project… treat the whole thing like… an extended field trip.”

Dustin nodded eagerly, and Nancy squeezed his shoulder again.

“Well, alright then!” she crooned, her voice like a lullaby. “Let’s get Mildra back over here before she slits my throat with that clipboard for making her wait!”

Dustin laughed out loud, looking up at Nancy with a smile.

She had blue eyes.