Bette wore a dirty art smock; her unruly curly hair tied back and was sitting in a wooden stool in the art center of her high school. She lifted her brush up to the easel, concentrating on her painting, an art piece she was going to submit to the University of California’s Art Scholarship Competition. Though money wasn’t an issue and college could be easily paid by her mother Bette wanted to apply for the competition because it would put her name out into the art word, she’d get recognition as an art scholar recipient.  She had been arriving an hour earlier to school these days so she could work on her painting at the art center. Her mom’s gallery had expanded throughout the years and the playroom she and Tina shared as children had been knocked down and added.

Bette was biting her bottom lip contemplating her next stroke, just then someone crept up behind Bette.

Tina: BETTE!!!!!!! She shouted, as she jabbed the sides of Bette with her fingers.

Tina scared the life out of Bette, sending a big blob of dark blue paint flying to the painting.

Bette spun around facing Tina.

Bette: GAHHH!!! Ti!!!! She whined. Why do you always do that?!!!

Bette turned and looked at the blob narrowing her eyes she turned and looked towards Tina again , crossing her arms across her chest.

Tina: OOPS!! I’m sorry! Heh, heh.. she chuckled nervously, she rubbed the back of her neck. Tina knew what Bette most likely was going to do, she’d always do this ever since they were younger… please don’t, please don’t she thought to herself.

Bette got up and chased her with the paint brush.

Bette: I’m gonna get you!!

Tina: Stop, Bette! Stop it!

Tina was looking behind her and ran around the art room in circles.

Bette: You should’ve thought twice about scaring me then Ti! She continued to chase Tina, finally cornering her and painting her face.

Tina: Bette! She whined, as she lay on the floor with Bette straddling her, holding the paint brush up to Tina’s face. You know I have to go to class after this! Why’d you do that?  Tina said pouting.