“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Caitlyn protested. “I’m sure it keeps you out of trouble.”“Thierry told me I was cold. He wasn’t the first boy to say that, either.”Caitlyn winced. “Ouch.”Amalia turned toward Caitlyn. “I wish I could be more like you.”“Me? Are you kidding? Why?”“You let your emotions show on your face. They’re right on the surface, for all to see.”Caitlyn grimaced. “I thought I’d learned to control that.”“See?” Amalia copied her grimace. “Right on the surface!”“Mmph,” Caitlyn grunted unhappily.“Mmph,” Amalia copied.Caitlyn threw up her hands in defeat, then cast a quick warning look at Amalia. “Don’t you do it!”Amalia chuckled.”

“Monsieur Girard grinned at the effect his story had had, and moved on, grunting disparagingly at another student’s efforts. As he approached her,Caitlyn went back to work, afraid to be caught slacking. He came to stand behind her, watching her attempts, and despite her best efforts her armslowed and then dropped as she was overcome with self-consciousness.“Do you, too, have a brilliant artist locked in your head?” he asked.“No. I’m beginning to think I don’t know a thing about art.”“Class! Do you hear? She knows nothing about art! And she proves it in her drawing.”Caitlyn cringed.“This,” he went on, laying his hand upon her head, “is the proper state of mind for learning to draw. Your mind must be blank of your old ideas andold ways of seeing. You must start fresh, like a baby who has never seen the world.” He dropped his hand from her head and pointed to the areashe’d shaded with parallel lines. “This is nice.”“Thank you,” Caitlyn said in soft surprise.He nodded in acknowledgment. “Keep listening. With open ears, you will be one of the few who learn.”

“Hi,” Caitlyn said.“Hello.”“I’m Caitlyn.”Mathilde grinned. “The Wild West girl who rode bareback! Yes, I know. The whole school knows! Can you shoot a gun, too?”Caitlyn’s cheeks heated in embarrassment. “Urg,” she gurgled, “no.”

“We actually wanted to ask you a few questions. About the interview you did this morning."At the mention of her KTVU debut, Caitlyn softened a little. "You saw that?"I nodded."How did I look on camera?"Her grief was touching.”

“Caitlyn, s’il vous plait!” Madame said, whacking the blackboard with her stick, its end pointing to the irregular verb devoir, “to have to.” Shewanted Caitlyn to conjugate it.Caitlyn felt the class’s attention turn to her, and a clammy sweat broke out in her armpits. Her brain stopped in its tracks, unable to move underthe pressure. A vague sense of having known how to speak French in her dreams tickled at her brain, but the skill was as lost to her in the wakingworld as was Raphael.“Devoir,” Caitlyn croaked. “Er. Je dev? Tu dev?”Madame gaped at her, horrified.Caitlyn shook her head; she knew those words were wrong. “Er … I mean, uh …” And then out of nowhere came, “Egli deve, lei dovrebbe …”These words felt right. He must, she must …Several girls burst into laughter.“What?” Caitlyn demanded.“You’re speaking Italian!” one girl shrieked, and collapsed into hysterical giggles.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t get out of the workshop much. The girls of Rome would have been introuble!”He grinned and waggled his brows. “Do you think so?”She pushed his shoulder. “Naughty boy.”“I could be much naughtier.”Caitlyn sucked in a breath, alarmed and thrilled by the dangerous look in his eyes. She clasped her hands primly in front of her”