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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 43 I turned to Mr. Morris and shook my head. "You're wrong, Mr. Morris. I'm not extraordinary at all. You could cut off my head and watch me run around like Henrie and I still wouldn't be extraordinary." Mr. Morris looked puzzled. "Who's Henrie?" he asked. "Our rooster." Miss Larkin and Mr. Morris started laughing. I think they tried to imagine me running around flapping my arms with my head chopped off. I got a bit tickled by the thought myself. The artist stared at me with gentle eyes. "Now that I've seen you, Hannah, I won't be satisfied unless you're in the show." I knew it wasn't empty talk. I scanned the room. I couldn't imagine a picture of me hanging bigger than life in some fancy gallery for the whole world to see. In New York City. "There's talk of taking the show to Paris," Miss Larkin added. "Sort of a return to Mr. Morris' roots as an artist." "Paris?" I muttered. Mr. Morris nodded. I think Miss Larkin figured she hit a weak spot with that one. She did, but I kept my peace. Miss Larkin said, "Why don't you think about it? Ask your mother and you can let me know tomorrow at class. If you decide you can sit for Mr. Morris you can start right off." "I'm anxious to begin," he added. I swallowed hard. "How long would it take?" I asked. |
