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canvas , then you can do the same thing with a mental
image. Can t you?
See, that s just it. I doubt that I can. I ve always had to
have the picture in front of me, otherwise I don t remember
the details.
But I know that s not true, he said. You showed me
your other shirts, and those were original designs. You
didn t copy those pictures, did you?
Brad was right. I d just never thought about it. Maybe I
did have a talent for illustration at least a small one. The
reason I needed a photo of a 1964 Mustang wasn t because I
couldn t draw a realistic picture of a car, but rather because
I had no idea what a 1964 Mustang looked like. It took me
less than ten minutes to complete my sketch, and then I stood
up and assessed my work.
Okay, I think that looks pretty good, I said.
That looks fuckin awesome, Brad corrected me.
Next I selected some colored pens from my supply kit.
I m assuming you want to go with the same colors that are
in the picture? I asked.
Yeah.
See, it s like coloring a picture in a coloring book.
Anyone can do it. There is no talent necessary.
Wes, would you stop doing that! Anyone cannot do
that! I could never do that. If I tried, my picture would look
like a kindergartner did it.
The way he expressed himself made me smile.
Now, if this were my shirt, I explained, I d decorate
it with a flashy background. I d use small beads and glitter
and all that crap. But I think you ll want something a little
more, um, manly.
I don t have anything against flair, he said. If so, I
wouldn t be friends with you.
His words nearly brought tears to my eyes. Okay. I
have an idea. I ll add a touch of pizzazz to the background,
but I ll keep the main picture as it is.
You re the expert, he said. Do it however you think
it ll look coolest.
For the next half hour I worked on the design, coloring
in the background. I added a streak of rainbow colors behind
the car. Below the photo, in script font, I spelled out Brad s
name. When I finally thought I was done, I assessed my work
and added a few minor details. At last, I was satisfied, and I
pushed my chair back and stood up.
Okay, what do ya think?
I think it s amazing, he said. I think you re amazing.
My heart swelled with pride. Thank you for saying
that, I said. I felt my cheeks growing warm and looked
down toward the ground. Two seconds later, I felt his
fingertips beneath my chin as he stepped close to me and
raised my head to look up into his eyes.
Wes, this is the coolest thing anyone s ever made for
me.
I d never had anyone express such appreciation for one
of my projects, and the reality of his praise hit me over the
head like a ton of bricks. At once I was overcome with
emotion and felt my eyes welling with tears.
If you can make pictures like this, you should be doing
paintings. You should have a studio. You should have
sketchpads filled with illustrations! Actually, I did have the
sketchpads. You have an exceptional talent as an artist.
I just like to make T-shirts, I said. The squeaky sound
of my own voice embarrassed me.
Come on upstairs with me, Brad said. I want to try
on my new shirt.
You should let it dry first.
How long will that take?
Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.
Cool. Let s go listen to some music, and I ll show you
my room while we wait.
Before I could answer, he grabbed hold of my hand and
led me upstairs to his bedroom. As I followed him inside, I
realized he had not been exaggerating when he said he was a
slob. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and the bed was
only half made. I had to resist the urge to start straightening
things up. I sat down on his mattress and looked out the
window, taking in the sight of my own bedroom window next
door. It seemed weird to be seeing it from Brad s
perspective.
Brad took a seat in his desk chair and pulled up some
music on his computer. A few seconds later, we were
listening to Maroon 5, and it actually sounded good. He had
a pair of decent speakers hooked up to the laptop.
So this is what you see when you talk to me through the
window, I observed. I can t believe how clearly you can
see into my room.
You should see it when the lights are off and I sit in
here using my binoculars.
No way!
He busted up laughing. I m just kidding.
You wouldn t want to see everything I do when I m
alone, I said, then instantly regretted my choice of words.
Again he laughed. Oh, I don t think I d mind.
He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the
bed beside us. I wanna be ready to try on my new shirt, he
said, his voice barely a whisper.
As I stared at his smooth chest, I could barely formulate
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