Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Is it such a big deal that he’s here helping?
I ignore her inquisitive glances and keep walking, head held high.
The space is huge, and right now, it’s an empty canvas. A blank space for the castles and knights, the hardwood floors shining under the overhead lights. There’s a faint smell of sweat, a reminder that this place usually sees more basketballs and volleyballs than dance decorations.
Several drop cloths are laid out on the floor, along with a bunch of art supplies: a stapler, markers, paper, glue, scissors, and some other stuff.
Mr. Grazz is already here, standing in the middle of the room with a clipboard in one hand and a measuring tape in the other. He looks up as we approach, offering a nod of acknowledgment.
“Glad you could make it,” he says, his eyes flicking from me to Easton. “Thanks for joining us, Mr. Westermann.”
Easton nods. “So, where do we start?”
Mr. Grazz gestures to a large roll of butcher paper spread out on the floor, with rough sketches of the decorations penciled in. A floor plan, if you will.
“We’re going to lay everything out just like it’ll be on the night of the prom. You tell me how many knights we have and we’ll put them on the map to determine if we have too many or not enough.” He pauses. “And then there’s the castle.”
“Castle?”
I kneel beside the paper, trying to decipher the sketches, and hear Mr. Grazz say, “It’s just a facade. Painted it myself.”
“Wow,” I mutter, scanning the layout. “This is so exciting!”
“How many knights do we have?” he asks.
“Um.” I do the mental math of the ones we’ve finished. “Ten so far.”
The art teacher nods. “And how tall are they?”
“Six feet, I think? Taller than him.”
“Six feet, huh? Nice.” Mr. Grazz lets out a low whistle. “We’ll need to make sure they’re evenly spaced around the gym. Too close together and it’ll look cramped. Too far apart and they lose impact.”
I glance at Easton, who’s looking at the sketches with a bit more focus now.
“Where’s the castle going?” he asks.
Mr. Grazz points to the far end of the gym, near the stage.
“Right up there. It’s the centerpiece, so it will be the most complicated thing to assemble—Mr. Anderson and Mr. Acker are coming to help bolt and screw it to the stage the day of prom.” I nod at the mention of our science and English teachers. “Two of your knights will flank it, kind of like royal guards. We’ll also have banners hanging from the rafters, and”—he pauses, flipping through some of the papers on his clipboard—“a garden arch.”
“An arch?” I ask, curious.
“We’ll place it near the entrance,” Mr. Grazz explains. “It’ll be covered in flowers as a photo backdrop—I know how you kids always need pictures for the Gram,” he jokes, attempting to sound hip. “I was hoping the two of you could make that your project. Boxes of flowers arrived today—we need someone to glue them on. Fancy up the arch a bit.”
“Sure, why not?” Easton says. “How hard could it be?”
“Great.” Mr. Grazz claps his hands together. “The arch is in the storage room next to the weight room. Let’s bring it out so you can get started—when you’re finished you can haul it back.”
We follow him to the storage room, where an already assembled garden trellis stands near a wall. It’s made of lightweight wood, painted white, and waiting to be adorned with the faux flowers in boxes nearby.
As we start carrying it out, Easton takes the heavier end, lifting it effortlessly.
I openly admire his strength and the muscles swelling beneath the sleeve of his shirt. When did he get so buff? I mean, I’ve noticed before, but now I can’t take my eyes off him.
I stumble, thanks to my ogling.
“You got it okay?” he asks, glancing at me as I do my best not to look like I’m struggling.
I blush. “I’m good.” Friends, Harper. You’re just friends.
My brow furrows in concentration; the last thing I need is to trip and fall.
Once we’re back in the gym, we set the pieces down carefully and crack open the cardboard boxes to inspect the florals. Nearby is the glue gun, already plugged in, and I see several bottles of superglue among the supplies.
“Just start gluing them on.” Mr. Grazz hovers nearby, never far from the action. “Make it look full and vibrant. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just make sure there aren’t any big gaps.” He makes a fluffing gesture.
We nod. “Got it.”
I grab a handful of flowers, sorting through the colors and textures.
“This will be kinda fun,” I say, picking out the white roses and setting them aside. “Flowers make everything better.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Easton reaches for the superglue while I nab the hot glue gun, and we begin attaching stems to the wooden structure. “Better than geometry class, anyway.”