"Kind of," Brent replied. "I just wanted to pick up those watercolors I did this year."

"Sorry to hear that, Brent. I was hoping you would forget; I need something over my mantel. I hope you'll keep up with it this summer."

"Oh, I will, Mr.Samuelson. I always get a lot of stuff done when we're up in Maine."

"Good. It's important not to let yourself get stale."

"Well, thanks for all the help this year. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. It's good to have a student like you every once in a while, Brent. Have a nice summer."

"Thanks. I will."

Brent rolled the watercolors up and put them under his left arm. He walked from the art room, through the commons and out into the June sunshine. It was hot. It would be a hot summer, he guessed.

For a minute Brent considered walking up to Gino's in the center of Louella for a hamburger and a Coke. Everybody would be there. They'd all be laughing and talking and making plans for the summer. Brent decided not to go. He didn't feel like all that joking and noise right then. He'd see them all plenty of times over at the club anyway.

Brent walked up Windermere Avenue with his paintings under the one arm and his sneakers slung over his right shoulder. The trees made a bright green canopy over the street. Brent strolled slowly through the circles of light and shadow. The sounds of little kids playing drifted from a backyard somewhere. The large houses with their big front porches looked quiet and composed in the June sun.

It's like a Monet painting, Brent thought.

When Brent closed the front door behind him, his mother called from the kitchen, "Is that you, Brent?"

"Yes, Mom," Brent shouted back.

"Come on into the kitchen. There are some cupcakes if you're hungry."

Brent walked through the dining room into the kitchen. His mother was stirring something on the stove. It smelled good.