Shelby Bradwell kept her happy-go-lucky smile pinned firmly in place. No, she wouldn't be able to meet with her classmates at the trendy new restaurant in Dome Six that evening. She had so much homework to do. She didn't want to get behind in her painting classes. That Professor Vitebskin! What a demanding instructor he was and she sure didn't want to have to stay late after everyone else had left. This at least, to her relief, was greeted with commiseration. The good professor was a slave-driver, an iconoclastic visionary who tolerated no-one else's visions if they conflicted with his own, an all-around martinet, and a known lecher. Everybody in the Art Department at PanU could agree on these points and this conversation led away from the conversation that Shelby did not want to have.
This was the conversation about why she didn't have the money to do what she wanted, go where she pleased, and dress in fashionably shredded, customized coveralls as opposed to the ones that actual workers bought in mining supply stores and then wore into well-mended rags before replacing them when it was that or go nude.
It was always such a struggle to fit in, Shelby thought with annoyance and not a little self-pity. It wasn't like she had done anything wrong. That had been her much missed, deeply resented father. How could he have done that to her and Veronica? And their mother? That was another painful subject, despite the years that had passed since her death. She shoved the memories back into the past.
Shelby turned away from the rest of the lingering students, not wanting to see the speculation as to her motives, while pretending to study her latest effort. At least this time she had been included in the conversation. That was something positive, unlike her current painting. It was the usual canvas smeared with dismal shades of brown and gray, with hints of mauve and taupe. The shades of brown and gray were expected and approved by Professor Vitebskin. It was the stated goal of his department (and his voice was the only one that counted) that paintings should show to everyone how ugly and gritty a city Panschin was. Shelby could agree with this view, she wanted to agree with this view, if it meant being accepted somewhere and fitting in. But she wanted color too, thus the mauve and taupe. She hoped that the good professor would not notice them or if he did, not think they were too gaudy an addition.
No matter what she did, Shelby just couldn't manage to achieve the look he was aiming for and her grade depended upon. She couldn't tell the difference between her own efforts and those of his preferred students, despite worried and repeated study. Her shades of brown were just as sludgy, her grays as muddy. Perhaps it was her lack of verve in presenting an image she couldn't bring herself to like or her inability to lay down gossamer layers of translucent paint, each a different shade of scummy water.
Maybe she just didn't have the talent she thought she did, or the talent that her family thought she did. She drew all the time, sketching everything around her and Shelby thought she was at least decent. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the opinion of her instructor. Or maybe, it was because she never let Professor Vitebskin corner her when nobody was around.
Shelby Bradwell, good grades or not, aching need to be accepted or not, wasn't going to let that old man ever have a chance to paw at her. If she was careful, he'd never get the chance and she would never have to make an official complaint, thereby drawing unwanted attention to herself and her struggling family. If the hoity-toity people here knew her real situation, she would never be accepted at all, not even on the margin she currently occupied.
As soon as the subject shifted to who was dating who, Shelby carefully gathered her supplies, escaped to the privacy of the sink, and began washing her brushes. She was fastidious with their care as she could not afford to replace them. Most of them she had found, discarded as damaged by other students who didn't have to wash brushes carefully when they could just buy new ones. A good cleaning had brought most of them back to usable life. Veronica would be so proud of her, Shelby thought, showing a twist of distaste as she laboriously soaped and scrubbed the bristles clean. You would think she enjoyed the challenges of poverty.
As soon as she could, Shelby discreetly slipped out of the studio and down the maze of hallways leading to the outside. She might be able to catch Lulu and Florence on their way out and they could walk home together. It was a long walk but the company made it go faster. The metro in the transtube would have been much faster, but that took money none of them had.
As Shelby worked her way through the chattering mob, she spotted a girl she remembered from the old days when the Bradwells lived in Dome Six, before everything happened, and she had been exiled to Auntie Neza and Dome Two. So that girl was here at PanU. Gleesh. Another person from the past and definitely one to avoid.
Shelby sighed to herself. Of course that girl was here at PanU. A girl like her wouldn't be going to PCC as that would be beneath her and she wasn't ambitious enough to go to the Panschin School of Business. Moreover, that girl, unless she'd had a brain transplant, was nowhere near smart enough to go the Mining and Engineering College of Panschin. PanU was the logical choice and Shelby should have anticipated it. That girl had delighted in the Bradwell's troubles and if she saw Shelby, she would be sure to spread around the old stories causing new pain. Shelby carefully veered down another hallway, stopping to read posters about an upcoming dance recital so her back was to the mob of students. She took a moment to rearrange the bulletin board to move the art show poster front and center. A few minutes later and the chance for discovery passed.
Once outside, moving around unobserved was easier and far more pleasant. Panschin University was a beautiful campus, with many actual strips of mowed grass lawn to lie on and stare up at the dome so far overhead, pretending it was the sky. There were even small trees dotted among the fancifully carved and decorated stone buildings, along with gaudy flower beds.
Shelby stopped and stared longingly at the marigolds. Their brilliant yellow flowers, splashed with red and orange speckles, glowed against their deep green feathery leaves. She would love to use those colors in her paintings. She smirked, thinking of Professor Vitebskin's reaction to such lurid hues. Even if she were to agree to a torrid affair with the old lecher, he would still probably fail her for using such blatant colors in a painting. Shelby sighed and turned away, looking for Florence and Lulu, emerging onto the surface from their own school's tunnels. They would appreciate the marigolds.
PanU was the finest school in Panschin – the school's paperwork said so all the time -- but it wasn't the only one she could have attended. Shelby had been lucky to be accepted here although she was unclear as to how Veronica and Auntie Neza were paying for it. It must be scholarship money, she had finally decided, the one she had won with her portfolio although no one official had ever said so to her. The university officials must have not wanted to embarrass her in front of the rest of the student body. If it hadn't been for winning the scholarship, Shelby would be going to Panschin Community College like Lulu and Florence. PCC was conveniently co-located with PanU so it would be easy to meet up with them at the main entrance to both campuses.
PanU's buildings were all above ground while PCC was located underneath in classrooms carved into the tunnels. The two entrances were close together: a grand, carved stone arch for PanU and a far less noticeable staircase leading down under into the catacombs of PCC. The two schools did share the library, the swimming pool, the gymnasium, and a few other, very expensive facilities. Otherwise, they were completely separate schools. It was, however, an open secret that some of the untenured faculty at PanU also taught classes at PCC. It was also known that some students took classes at both schools, although the PanU students didn't usually admit to doing such a thing to save face.
Florence and Lulu were waiting at the stone archway and Shelby hurried to join them. The light was still good and she would be able to finish another attempt at meeting Professor Vitebskin's requirements when she got home to the rooftop studio. Studio was a fine word for her end of the rooftop terrace. It held a battered dresser for supplies, a chair, and an easel, but it was hers. It was here that she kept her most special paintings hidden, the ones she had not shown to anyone. They were carefully stacked behind the dresser, filling the empty space between it and the rooftop's enclosing wall. She only worked on those paintings when no one was around to comment or criticize her subject. She didn't know if she would ever be brave enough to bring them into the studios at PanU for evaluation by the perilous and acute gaze of Professor Vitebskin.
As the girls walked along, Shelby filled them in on the upcoming gallery show. This was the big quarterly show and would even include one of her own paintings. One benefit of living in the White Elephant with Auntie Neza and Veronica was the vast amount of empty space available. Shelby had taken full advantage and arranged with the PanU Artists' Collective to use the White Elephant's ballroom to show everyone's current work. This action had gone a long way to ensuring that Shelby, despite her lack of acceptable talent, was accepted as one of the group. After some discussion, Veronica and Auntie Neza had agreed to the scheme when Veronica had realized that they could charge for the use of the space. The Artists' Collective paid with free labor, whitewashing the White Elephant, a commission on any paintings sold (sadly very few), and a small fee to cover snacks. Another small fee was collected at the door from attendees whenever they had a show. This last fee was split between the Collective and the White Elephant so they both made some money.
It worked out, even if Shelby thought that Veronica came across as too much of a money-grubber and not enough of a patron of the arts. When she had said so, Veronica had laughed and said she didn't charge enough to hang ugly smears on the walls of her home and then have the nerve to ask for money for them. So did Auntie Neza, Florence, and Lulu. It was another irritation in Shelby's life, living with people who didn't understand fine art.
She wondered if any of them would ever try to see what being accepted meant to her, seeing as how they rejected the paintings as being ugly smears of mud. Shelby chewed on a fingernail as the little group made its way down the sidewalk, passing by planters spilling over with deep purple smiling pansies. The paintings, if she was honest, were ugly smears of mud. There were so many prettier colors in the world and prettier things to paint. It would be a pleasure to try and capture those pansies and their expressions. When people passed by the planters, the breeze from their body's movements made the pansies dance ever so slightly, as though they did pay attention to their surroundings.
Who would understand what had happened to her? It had hurt so much to go from a secure place in the world to one in which she had learned, at great cost, that if circumstances changed acceptance would disappear. All her friends at school had dropped her immediately when her father's malfeasance had come to light. His suicide and her mother's death had not brought any of those people back, not even to the funerals. And when she had moved to Dome Two, nothing had improved. The new school in Dome Two had been difficult. Nobody there had ever really accepted her. She had always been on the outside looking in. At least she could lose herself in drawing and painting. The very limited art classes had been the only place where Shelby had felt welcome and then only when she was working. Outside those classrooms, nothing improved. She still wasn't one of the residents of Dome Two and she never would be.
Who would ever accept her fully, as she was? Shelby walked along with Florence and Lulu, envying them. They had plans for the future. They were both studying nursing, they had boyfriends, they had family, they had friends who visited when they could. She knew it was petty of her to feel this way. Florence and Lulu lived in the White Elephant because they paid for room and board with housekeeping and a few credits here and there. They didn't have the status the Bradwells used to have. Now, in a way, they had a far more secure place in the world than Shelby did.
As they walked, Shelby noticed a big, dark-haired man noticing her and Florence and Lulu. He strode along down the street like his bright future, unlike hers, was assured. He would be easy to sketch, with his high cheekbones and strong chin, but capturing his confident air, pinning him to paper for all time, would be harder.
Would her situation ever improve, Shelby wondered? Did she have a chance at the future she dreamed of, like that confident man so obviously did? It could happen, she supposed. And in the meantime, she had a home, the planted areas were alive with a thousand shades of green, the marigolds were the most vibrant yellows ever, and spring had made Dome Two pleasant again after the dreary winter. She could enjoy all those things and that would have to be enough.