Alexis Hamlin
Kailah Trice
English 101
9/24/2023
Paper Ducks
People always ask me how? Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, they all gawk out the same phrases. How did you do that? How long did it take? To be frank, I do not know how. There isn’t a special formula. There isn’t an instruction manual or magical tool. I see and I feel. There are no words that can truly describe how. I can tell you where it all started, and maybe you can interpret how it came to be.
It began with the silent fall of rain. Something so simple and yet it managed to cancel all the fun. As I stared out the dreary classroom window, my eight year old imagination came to life. I flipped over the back of my homework and started to draw. Each pencil stroke blended in harmony with the next. The plain sheet of paper had endless possibilities, but my heart was set on only one.
The curious eyes of my classmates wander in my direction. A pair of footsteps and sniffles approached me, “Whoah, how did you do that?” wheezed Snotty Kyle.
He was a skinny boy with a pale, sickly complexion. Kyle considered himself the class clown, but I’m afraid to say he might have been the only one.
“Uh, I don’t really know. My imagination I guess?”
I shifted uncomfortably. More kids gathered around to see what all the commotion was about. There were many gasps followed by more hows. As I took a closer look at my work, I started to feel a little glimmer of pride. My previous homework had now become a beautiful pond surrounded by lilies. In the center was an innocent duck swimming under the sun.
“Ha, The longer I look at the duck, the more I see my brother. Who knew he looked so much like a duck?” Snotty Kyle remarked.
Nobody laughed. Trying to save his failed joke, Kyle quickly said, “Hey I was wondering, could I have your picture? I wanna show my brother the resemblance.”
“No way Kyle, I was planning on giving it to Mrs. Alcip,” I said with no hint of remorse.
Mrs. Alcip was our 2nd grade teacher. It wasn’t a secret that she loved ducks. Mrs. Alcip claimed that in another life she could have been one, and she always referred to our class as her “Little Ducklings.”
Kyle frowned. He never liked the word no. Within a moment, his lips curved into a sly smile. “I’ll pay you,” he said with an eyebrow raised.
“Pay me? For my homework? Kyle, I never thought you would stoop so low,” I giggled.
The thought of someone paying me for my drawing gave me an odd sensation. I looked at
my duck again and smiled, “How much?”
Kyle’s sticky fingers reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. He dangled it in the air in front of my face. I was shocked. A full dollar? That was more than the tooth fairy would give me! I glanced down at the picture and then back at the dollar. I could make another drawing and give it to Mrs. Alcip. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.
“Hurry up, I can’t wait here all day,” Snotty Kyle moaned. I sighed and swiped the dollar from his hand.
“You got yourself a deal.”
As the school day was at an end, my mind was rushing with ideas about my new discovered talent. I could become rich! All I would have to do is sell my drawings.
I stumbled onto the bus and slid into my seat. I could get a head start and begin now! Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out my notebook and started drawing another duck. The bus proved to not be the best art studio, as the bumps and shouting children messed up my concentration.
Above all the noise, I heard a familiar stuffy voice, “It took me hours to finish, and I gotta say my hand was hurting. I’m a natural artist at heart.” I peered over the seats and found Snotty Kyle waving my drawing around. “Hmmm, do you think I should get this framed?”
My heart sank. How dare he? My innocent duck in the hands of a traitor. I grinded my teeth. That was my picture! I drew that, not that sticky fingered snob! I’m sure Kyle couldn’t even draw a triangle for the life of him, much less a duck.
I wanted to punch him! Scream at him! Humiliate him! But instead, I slumped into my lumpy seat. My eyes filled with water. You stupid girl. You sold your work away to a snotty liar. I bit my lip, and I tried to blink away the tears.
What was the point of drawing? Why should I put in all the work, just for people to lie and say it’s theirs? I grabbed my pencil and scribbled out my duck. As quickly as it began, my career as an artist came crashing down.
Once again, I was staring out a dreary window. While the weather was sunny, my attitude brought gloom. Instead of finding inspiration, I found a lonelier friend named defeat. I watched building after building pass by, waiting for the horrid bus ride to end.
At one stop light, my eyes wandered onto a billboard. I stared at it with little interest until I saw its bright shiny logo. Out of the blue it hit me, all I needed to do was to label my work. I
flipped over to a new page in my notebook and wrote my name in fancy writing. This will be my logo. This is how I will prevent people from stealing my work. I may have lost one picture, but that will never happen again.
Each day at recess I drew a paper duck and signed it with my name and sold each one for a quarter to my classmates. I saved the money in an old ziplock bag. Over time, I eventually had enough to buy myself my first box of colored pencils.
Those pencils unlocked new dreams. As my drawings grew from ducks to dragons. I drew every day and honed my skill to where it is today. So people always ask me how. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, they all gawk out the same phrases. How do you do that? How long did it take? And the answer to that question my friend, is Paper Ducks.