"Go to the Organizing Committee and withdraw yourself. You have no right to advance to the finals!"
Contemptuous stares bore into me from all directions. I turned and pointed at the worst piece hanging on the wall.
"Win what, exactly? I came in dead last. I couldn't advance if I wanted to."
The bullet comments went wild: [Wait wait wait—what the hell is happening?!]
——
Cliff's jaw dropped. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of painting prodigy? There's no way that chicken scratch is yours!"
Bonnie—who had pretended not to know me during registration—suddenly seized my wrist.
"Jack Gilbert! You've been studying art since childhood. You spent seven or eight years training overseas. How could you possibly be last?!"
I was momentarily speechless.
If she recognized me, then she should know.
I've always studied oil painting—not traditional ink.
I only entered this competition because my parents mentioned Bonnie was one of the judges. They specifically asked me to give her a nice surprise.
I registered on a whim. Never intended to place.
Then those bullet comments appeared and threw me completely off balance.