#10

The administration suspended classes for a week as families recouped after their losses – they also needed time to check the building’s structure to make sure it was safe. The school suffered two casualties: the collapse of the art room and our classroom. We were fortunate enough to be at the museum when our house of straw tumbled. And unfortunately for Mr. Bonamy, his collection of Impressionist artwork was consequently tarnished beneath his house of sticks.

As we surveyed the earthquake’s destruction, we could hear Mr. Bonamy weep profusely, mourning the loss of his life’s work. He’d recall every impressionist painting he made, every think brush stroke that left its indelible mark on the canvas. The thing was, he really was good. He was compared to painters like Monet and Manet. He held art shows once a year – which we weren’t invited to because it was too classy. But his passion and love for his stuff really radiated in everything he did.

Since school was suspended, my friends and I were free to roam around town. We dropped by the local arts and crafts store and purchased paint brushes – big ones and small ones. We also bought paint with a primer so the paint won’t wash off, then we bought white acrylic paint along with some pigments. We were pretty much set.

We went back to school and found a wall behind the cafeteria that was covered with bills. We scraped off what we could and applied a thin layer as a base. Then we started lathering on the acrylic paint.

We were making a mural for Mr. Bonamy.

From what we recalled, Mr. Bonamy’s idolized the Impressionist Claude Monet. And so we decided we’d make a replica of one of his paintings. We went online and searched through his paintings and settled on “Impression: soleil levant.” (We chose it because it looked like the easiest one to copy) So we dipped our fat brushes into the acrylic paint and started dabbing at our canvas.

It took us the whole afternoon to finish it, but we were proud. We ran back to get Mr. Bonamy and showed him our replica. He stayed quiet for a while, contemplating the catastrophe. He thanked us for our thoughtfulness and congratulated us (with half hearted sincerity) for our job well done. We were all smiles after that.

We were about to leave, when Mr. Bonamy asked us if he could use our paint: he wanted to paint his own mural. “Sure!” we said. The rest of the afternoon, we sat on the grass and just watched Mr. Bonamy as he started painting a sun rising from the ocean – or sinking to its doom. Either way, after he finished the mural we herald Mr. Bonamy as the greatest painter to have ever lived.