For the past two weeks, her Tuesday class had become her favorite class and therefore she expected that day with great enthusiasm. That particular week, she could not wait anymore for the class, intrigued by the important announcement of the teacher: They were going to work with a living model.
So much joy and excitement appeared in her small chest that Celeste did no longer know what to do with those feelings. So she smiled foolishly and let her mind get lost in her thought.
In her dreamy world, Celeste tried to figure out what was going to happen in that class but no matter how hard she tried she could not avoid imagining the handsome face of the model and losing sight of all her other thoughts. It was strange, she wanted to meet that person and at the same time she feared that he would not meet her expectations. While her most insecure part, however small, made her doubt whether she would be able to capture the beauty of the model.

Tuesday finally arrived, and though the world respected the usual order, that very Tuesday seemed to be delayed almost a month. The school day was long, and every minute was a long wait. To make matters worse she was so distracted that all her teachers had reasons to be angry with her. The errors varied from class to class, but all agreed she was very distracted. Yes, she was. The girl was lost in her imaginary world, where the model was a handsome knight in silver armor and golden hair.
In one of her last fantasies, one of her teachers yelled at her so hard that it bring her back from of her alternative world. The girl attempted to feign innocence but as she was the only student in the class, her puppy eyes were of no help at all.
An hour after her last confrontation she had twice the amount of homework than the last week, but she did not care about it.

The Art class of Mr. Bourdette had previously occupied the second place in her list, and had advanced one position to the coveted top spot. Even her riding classes never reached that treasured status but since she finished her piano lessons on Thursdays, now she had one day off but also a new favorite subject.

The girl entered the building wearing her usual mask of superiority, that not only said to all other students that she was better but also enhanced the beauty of her face to turn her into a living statue.
Celeste knew very well that although most of her teammates had left their teens several years ago, she was the best student in the class. And the fact that she was young and beautiful, rich and talented only helped to create a larger gap between her and the ordinary people in the class.
Silently, the ten commoners and Celeste began to assemble their easels and prepare their canvas in which they will paint the beauty of the model.

Being on a student visa was a pain in the butt. One could not take a decent job, and if she could, it had to be on a campus, and Sveta was not that great in education to begin with.
But, she was a survivor, and she had learned long ago how to get jobs without going through a maze of paperwork. One of those opportunities, for a pretty Russian girl like Sveta, was...
... now now, get you minds out of the gutter.

She was taking modeling jobs for art schools. It did not pay that well, but it was money for sitting in one place for a few hours and looking pretty. It did beat washing dishes. And she did not even have to take her clothes off. Not all of them anyway.

In this class, since she was going to be a living model for a bunch of kids, she did not have to take off anything at all. She just had to sit, with her hair pulled back, wearing a nice dress that was going to be a b*tch to paint. The students seemed excited. Sveta smiled a bit, looking around, waiting for someone to tell her exactly how to sit, or stand, or do whatever she needed to do to be a good model study for the young painters. This was going to be fun...

Only a select group of students had completed the preparations prior to the class. In a privileged location close to the action, and as the head of the elitist group was Celeste, waiting for the rest of the class to end with their thing, because only then they could begin. The person to blame for that situation was Mr. Bourdette himself that blindly believed people would not progress if they get shouted or mistreated. Although sometimes his vision was perfectly applied without problems in that case he was wrong. He was too soft and people took advantage of that.
A quick look at the room was enough to know that she would had to keep waiting. A couple recently came to the classroom, so they had nothing ready. Others, insisted on talking as they prepared their stuff, so the task was being performed very slowly... and worse than that, was the fact that Mr. Bourdette recently entered the room.

Her teacher was a very tall person, too tall to be in an art room but unfortunately his hands did not get along very well with any instrument other than brushes. According to him, he had tried to enter the basketball team of his school, but he had not managed to pass the test. The same thing had happened in the math team, choir and many others. So many that Celeste had already lost count.
Every time he told them one of those story, his heart was torn apart again. It was rare that the entire class agree on something, but this time everyone was sure they had not hear half the stories of that man. Maybe that was why her face was thin and always had an expression of loneliness and sadness.
With his characteristic melancholic voice he gave a few instructions to her assistant then headed to his desk to leave his things.

Apparently the teacher had gotten a assistant. Somehow that beautiful woman had agreed to serve him coffee and keep his calendar up to date. Although she looked too cute to be a mere secretary, nor had that bored expression on her face that secretaries often used as if they had seen everything in the world and nothing at all could surprise them.
That was when the child interpret the situation correctly. She was not his secretary, she was his model. And the few words they shared, probably were some commands for the artistic pose she would need to execute.
But that was not all... Immediately she realized how stupid she had been. And all the fantasies came to her mind to mock her. She had wasted her time imagining the model... male model they were going to paint. And though she tried to hide her horror as best as she could, her body reacted faster than her mind and sent an excessive amount of blood to her cheeks.

Celeste knew it was useless and that she was only going to make everyone laugh at her, but anyway she informed the teacher of his little mistake. Since she could not take that idea off of her mind. "Professor, I thought we were going to have a male model." Said the child, doubting every word. She felt betrayed, deceived. It was a mistake. And then she heard the voices and whisper behind her back. Not a single second later her companions were already plotting against her and laughing at her back.
"Mmm... no... I think not." His teacher said in response to her question. Adding more a second later. Once he had managed to accumulate enough interest to respond. "No, I'm sure I did not specify genres." As an apology he gave her a smile. A crooked smile. Sad.
The teacher was covering her for sure. He had made it clear that they would paint a man, and at the last minute he changed everything. And it was the woman´s fault.

Sveta watched the students getting ready; they took their precious time. Oh well, she was getting paid by the hour, might as well be patient... she watched the young blonde girl with the disappointed pout on her face. There was always one would-be artist who did not like the model. Apparently, in this group it was the kid. As adorable as she looked, she did not look friendly.

>>"Professor, I thought we were going to have a male model."

Sveta rolled her eyes. Subtly.

>>"Mmm... no... I think not. No, I'm sure I did not specify genres."

The Russian mutant chuckled and settled down, allowing the professor to arrange her and her dress into the appropriate position. She just hoped it would be something that does not make her leg fall asleep or her back hurt for the next few hours...

"I apologize for being female." she chuckled, glancing at the professor. It was completely not her fault. Nobody had ever complained about it before.

The teacher clearly did not care. He did not even care about the sarcastic apology that was addressed to Celeste. But that did not surprised the girl at all. She knew that her teacher seemed to care little or none in reality, he always had that aura of indifference around that blended perfectly with his face full of sadness. As those two things were one. Sadness and indifference. For the world had no charms for him.

Emulating the attitude of her teacher, Celeste also ignore her. Not willing to speak to the harpy who had replaced her beloved prince charming. But knowing that somehow she had to make her pay, or at least make her feel uncomfortable...
But when her imaginary small skirmish was over, everyone was ready to begin painting. And the model, ugly and old, was in position. Her dress was beautiful but the position his teacher had chosen gave it lots of waves and folds that they would have to paint. Her hair seemed complicated too. Even her face, so common and not very perfect, promised to be a small challenge. After all, all the students were rusted for painting so many fruits and dead objects.

With light strokes that were slightly marked, the girl drew the contours of her face, neck and shoulders. That was the easy part, then continued with the eyes, ears and lips. Once she had all the elements marked in her face, she began to fill every part with details. Her eyes were the first she tried. Blue eyes. She had always dreamed of having blue eyes to compliment her beauty even more. But no one in her family had them. Since her sketch had no eyebrows or hair, her picture still did not look like to the model but she could not start with the rest of her face if did not finish her nose first. Why was it so difficult? She had a rare nose or she was moving a lot. "Professor, we can´t paint if she is moving so much." If she could not do something, it was always somebody else's fault. The imperfection of others always ruined her things.

>>"Professor, we can´t paint if she is moving so much."

Sveta moved some more. Namely, she rolled her eyes. The professor was still organizing her dress and hands, but most of the students were already working on her features. They were eager to do some art! Except for the little blonde, who seemed to be in a nasty mood, and she was blaming Sveta for it.

The professor muttered something about that too, and finally stood back, looking at Sveta, who was trying to hold herself still, not for the little blonde mind you, but for the money she was going to get out of this. Unfortunately, she happened to be looking straight at the blonde.

Only a few more hours...

Her teacher, clearly hypnotized by the strange woman, did not listen to her. He just whispered a silly answer, almost unintelligible, and continued with the task of accommodating his model as if she were a doll.
Finally the professor stepped back to gaze at the intruder as if she were his greatest work of art. He nodded with pride and then headed back to his desk where he sit down to stare at the class. As was typical of him, after a few minutes, he would begin to wander the halls checking the progress and giving some advices. But for now he was sitting, leaving them a clear vision of the model, her diabolical complicated dress and hair.

Now that the teacher was not over the model, she could see her face in detail, and thereby she managed to draw the outline of her nose in a more accurate way, and then made deeper strokes to give more volume and life. She continued with her ​​hair, though it was not as complicated as her nose or dress, it was still very difficult.

Celeste was at the center of the field of vision of the model since she was a few steps closer than the rest of the students. Her face was almost hidden from the eyes of her partners, yet she had to be careful with the teacher. Even then every time he gets distracted, she took the opportunity to make mocking faces to the model. On one occasion she even forgot her original purpose and started making funny faces. She may well achieve the model to move more... and maybe then, her teacher would agree with her.

The little blonde was making faces. At her. Repeatedly.

At first Sveta did not notice; she was too occupied with sitting still and maintaining her position. But the kid was practically in her face, and eventually, the movement caught the corner of her eyes and she couldn't help but look.
She... was pulling faces. Not nice ones.

Sveta shuddered with indignity. The brat was doing it on purpose! No, she would not give her the satisfaction of moving. That would mean the brat won, and she would not have that.

But then, the faces continued. Sveta did not move, but Sveta blushed light pink, and oh did Sveta glare. Had she not been paid for the gig, she would have thrown a fit. But he was. So, she glared.

The blush that rose to the cheeks of the model was so sudden and so brief that probably no one else in the class was going to paint that little detail. In contrast, for Celeste that micro expression was a small victory over the model. Of course, she knew very well that that battle was meaningless in the final score, but she still decided to immortalize that priceless moment in her painting.
She did the same with her severe eyes that looked at the painter with fury even when she was not sure why. She put all her skill in capturing these two expressions in all their grandeur, so soon both won more detail and realism that the rest of the portrait that was nothing more than a simple copy of its living counterpart.

Although she was not going to admit it openly, Celeste knew that her portrait was simply mediocre. The eyes gave life to the painting, but did little to hide the rest of the details she had not known how to recreate.
She needed something special to give life to the painting. Something magical. Something likes her powers.

The model did not deserve all the effort she was putting in the process, but still, she knew that her painting needed to be the best. Ready to turn her portrait into something unique, the little witch plucked one of her own golden hairs, always trying not to be seen. Her face flinched just a second, and then the moment passed. Apparently nobody had noticed it.
Very gently she held the fine hair in her hand, trying to put her nail in contact with the tiny surface. Then she mentally pronounced the name of the color she was trying to steal. "Golden." The word echoed in her mind, repeating endlessly until the color of her long hair jumped to her fingernail.
Then she repeated the process backwards, thus pasting the golden in the hair of the model in her canvas. A few strokes later, the hair of the model had the correct shadows and different movements as the real deal.