Mabel

1

"Ow, fuck." I stretch, arms reaching high above my head until I hear the satisfying crack of my back as I step out of my dorm and into the dim, blank, and narrow hallways of one of the school's housing blocks.

A black Roots bag hangs lazily off my shoulder, and I inwardly groan at the fact that class starts in around five minutes—but that doesn't stop my feet from stubbornly dragging me at a steady speed of a whopping two miles per hour (I'm tired okay).

One of the only beauties of living in the dorm is that it just so happens to be located closest to the Art studio than any other building in the entire school.

Even more convenient since it's literally the only place I ever need to go; considering Luca, Morin, and Talia are usually dragging my ass any other place I'd ever need to visit at irregular and often inconvenient times.

It's pretty handy that the only thing that stands in my way every morning between me and the art building is the late students trying to get to class and the science block.

If I look to the left there's a small modern-looking glass library that I inhabit for research and homework a commendable twice a year. If I look to the right there's a cozy campus diner/café hybrid that I go to a worrying twice a day.

Straight ahead is the glorious, rectangular building with four metal abstract sculptures (a nice way of saying they look like nothing even remotely recognizable to anyone) surrounding the entrance like creatively menacing bouncers, along with a large colourful mural decorating the exterior wall.

Every student is allowed to add one thing to the wall when they join, and another when they leave.

I added a starfish, which was seen as unsurprising to literally everyone that knows me.

You see, I'm sort of a fish geek, as Morin puts it. Well, I personally prefer the term 'Aquatic Creatures Stan' but my loser friends whole-heartedly disagree.

"It's not stanning Mabel. Stanning is crying over Kim Kardashian's airport look—not over a new species of stickleback."

"Ugh, but you should see them, Talia—they're amazing!"

No doubt, Talia agreed, but I'm pretty sure she didn't believe me. I really don't get exactly why everyone has such a problem with my interest in sea creatures. I'm just very, very aware of what they do.

Which is why it barely comes as a surprise to me when my teacher looks at my planning sheet for my next project and sighs, agonizingly deeply.

"Mabel," he says in a tone of exhausted disdain which I'm pretty sure he's reserved specifically for me, "I can't let you do another project on Sea Life. That'd be... three?"

It's four, but I don't correct him, and instead let out an exaggerated, "But Professor Kang," in a whine, followed by, "I was gonna do it on the fang blenny fish, you know that they've got a painless bite? People think they can use them for new painkillers and—"

It's during these rambles that people often ask me why I didn't go into biology, going on to become a marine biologist in place of a... magazine illustrator or whatever the hell I plan to do with my degree.

In short, there are two reasons. The first one being that I really don't like swimming (or water) and second, I'm not at all interested in science (particularly not plants or human biology). And if I can't work with fish, I would want to draw them instead.

It's perfectly logical in my mind.

"Do you think Sea World would take me as a part-time fish observer?" I'd once asked Talia, who immediately erupted into laughter, cackling until she realized I was serious. I watched as she forced herself to be subdued again with a cough, backtracking by saying, "Maybe, yeah—you know, they could..."

I figured it was a no.

"I'm afraid I really can't let you do fish again. You're only in your second year so it's not too late to broaden your project themes, but if I let you do another project on fish, well, what if you never find your passion?"

I really want to tell him that drawing fish is my passion, but that's kind of a lie.

I mean, I like the idea of it; being that close to the aquatic creatures themselves or drawing them from a photograph—obviously, because there's no way I'd ever be able to draw one live; that'd ended badly last time—but in reality, drawing fish doesn't give me the same sort of thrill that looking and learning about them does and—hey, maybe I should become a fish photographer; is that a thing? Is it too late to change my major—

"Mabel, are you listening?"

I flinch slightly, a sure sign that no, I am not, but I smile and nod anyway, resulting in another heavy sigh from my teacher.

"Go to the library after class, find an art book. Be inspired," he says, wrangling up an amount of enthusiasm that never fails to impress me. "Either that or I'll pick your topic for you."

I immediately feel my face screw up. He's been trying to get me to do portraiture (cue loud gagging noises) since week one of my freshman year when I forgot to take pictures for my fish observations and drew Luca because, in his words, "If you draw someone as handsome as me, your teacher will have no issue with your screw-up at all."

He was right unfortunately, Kang loved it. But I decided to tell him I was told to clean all of the oil paint brushes by hand, instead of admitting it and adding to his inflated ego.

Regardless, I definitely do not want to draw Luca or any of my other friends for, like, an entire year's project. No thank you.

Figuring I should probably try and find something else, I send a salute towards my professor, following it with a chipper, "aye-aye, captain."

It wasn't supposed to be a fish reference, I swear, but Kang takes it as one and I watch as the enthusiasm falls with a frown.

For the next three hours that I've got free studio time, I go between sifting through the books already there, news reports about the newest aquatic discoveries, and pictures of Kim K's airport fashion (for scientific purposes).

But aside from a few pictures of Kim and her questionable outfit choices, I still feel uninspired and vaguely 'meh' after the three hours. Which of course means my very depraved soul is crying out for a sugar fix.

Grabbing my unused portfolio, and swinging my totally-not-my-mom's-handbag-that-she's-been-looking-for-for-the-past-month-but-definitely-that-handbag-bag over my shoulder, I start making my way to fulfill my burning desire when I feel a clap on my back and a call of, "Mabel, remember to go to the library," from Kang.

Inwardly groaning, I whip around to face him.

"Actually, I was gonna get—"

"No avoiding it, Mabel; you have to pick a good topic by tomorrow."

"But, Professor Kang, I was just gonna go—"

"No, no excuses. In fact, I have some books to return, so we can go together. I'll pick you out a few books."

How wonderful.