“Hey! Hey, wait up!”

Belle turned to see the girl with the very, very, very long blonde hair hurrying towards her. She had it all bundled up and was carrying it in her hands, on juu of all her school supplies. She had a pencil stuck behind her ear, Belle noticed. Behind her trailed the girl with wild red hair.

“Hey!” the blonde girl beamed. “It’s Belle, right?”

“Right.”

The girl stuck out a hand and shook Belle’s vigorously. “I’m Rapunzel but most people call me Punz au Punzy. I just heard you’re joining the Book Club?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! We’re going to have so much fun!” gushed Rapunzel. The girl with red hair behind her rolled her eyes. “Hey,” she alisema in a strange accent Belle had never heard before. “My name’s Merrida. wewe can call me...Merrida.”

“Hi, Merrida. I’m Belle.”

“Merrida here thinks it’s pointless us even having a Book Club when hardly anyone here likes reading,” Rapunzel said, shaking her head. “There’s only a handful of us who do.”

Merrida shrugged. “Well, hardly anyone here likes archery, but we don’t have a club for that either.”

“Come on,” groaned jimmy, hunitumia as the kengele rang. “We’ll be late for Art!”

“Oh, goodie!” Rapunzel squealed. “I upendo Art!”

Belle followed her Marafiki and the two girls she had just met into a large room that looked something like a mashua from the way it was set out. Outside, she could see into the grounds. Some of the hedges were clipped into animal shapes.

“That was Mr Wiggins’ doing,” explained Snow White.

“Oh-oh!”

The groan made everyone look around with a start. Belle looked up to see a tall, thin man with brown hair tied in a ponytail and rather elegant clothing stumble into the room. To her surprise, he had an arrow through his head. A few people in the room gasped. Merrida looked like she was about to faint in shock.

“I...I...” alisema Mr Wiggins, and then he removed the arrow which was attached to a headband and hadn’t actually gone through his head at all. “I made it myself!”

The class erupted into laughter and applause. “Everyone likes Mr Wiggins,” Meg alisema to Belle. “He’s such a fun guy!”

“Alright, settle down everyone; it wasn’t that funny,” alisema Mr Wiggins, although he did look extremely pleased with their reaction to his little joke. “Just a little something I came up with in the staff room the other day. Now, down to business. Everyone get out your art books.”

Belle looked worriedly around at her Marafiki as they pulled great heavy vitabu from their bags. Slowly, and feeling embarrassed, she put up her hand. Mr Wiggins looked up at her. “Yes?”

“I don’t have an art book, Mr Wiggins.”

“Don’t have an-? Ah, of course; you’re the new girl, aren’t you?” Belle nodded. Mr Wiggins reached into a drawer and drew out a large book. “Yes, Me Ratcliffe told me you’d be coming in. Here wewe are, Miss French.”

“Thank you, Mr Wiggins,” Belle replied, gratefully taking it from him. As the others opened theirs, she saw that they had painted the pages in glossy colours and used paper-mache’ and fake jewels and pieces of netting and lace to make them into wonderful pieces of artwork.

“This is what we do; isn’t it great?” gushed Rapunzel, seeing Belle staring at her book.

“Now, class,” announced Mr Wiggins, “today we will be looking at Rodin. And Rodin is most famous for what?”

Rapunzel’s hand shot into the air like a rocket. “Yes, Miss Sunne?”

“Sculpture!”

“Correct. Now, one of his most famous works was this one.” Mr Wiggins opened up a book and showed everyone a statue of a sitting man with his chin propped on one hand. “The Thinker. This statues has been reproduced many times around the world, although it originated in what country?”

Adam put up his hand. “Yes, Mr Castle?”

“Paris.”

“Correct. Now, another of Rodin’s most famous works is this one.” He flipped through the book and held up another page. “The Kiss.”

Belle looked up at the bronze statue of two lovers entwined in a complex embrace with their lips barely meeting and her moyo quickened. In her whole life, she had never actually been kissed before, but she had always imagined the feeling of it. The statue seemed to encapsulate everything she felt when she imagined being kissed. She felt herself blushing and looked away, trying not to draw attention to herself.

Merrida put up her hand. “Mr Wiggins?”

“Yes, Miss Brave?”

“Did he ever base sculptures on people he knew au were they just from his imagination?”

“That’s a good question,” replied Mr Wiggins. “If I remember rightly, he used people as models to get the positions of his sculptures right, but whether he based them on the people he used is widely debated. These two,” he gestured to the statue of the two lovers, “are meant to be two characters from Dante’s Inferno.”

Now Belle understood. “Francesca and Paolo,” she said, without thinking. Everyone looked at her and her blush deepened. “They’re Francesca and Paolo, aren’t they? That’s why he’s holding the book in one hand.”

“Well spotted, Miss French,” beamed Mr Wiggins. “Yes, they are Francesca and Paolo from the Inferno; the tragic lovers who were both killed kwa Francesca’s husband after he discovered their affair.”

“Oh, how horrible!” Snow White whispered, covering her mouth with her hands.

“That sucks,” Meg ametoa maoni and a few of her classmates made agreeable noises.

Mr Wiggins nodded, sadly. “Yes, like Romeo and Juliet; Francesca and Paolo are another example of a doomed romance in fiction. It’s also another of Rodin’s sculptures that has been reproduced many, many times all over the world. Now,” he added, bright and brisk, “I’m going to give wewe all a photograph, either of the Thinker au of the Kiss and I want wewe to try and reproduce it in your books. wewe can use whatever materials wewe like; pencils, watercolours, paint, chalks, pastels, au whatever, but kwa the end of class, I want wewe all to have come up with something.” He handed around the photographs. Belle found herself with a copy of the Kiss. “You may begin. And, above all, have fun!”

As Belle picked up a pencil to sketch, she re-imagined the story in her mind. Francesca had married Giovanni but fallen in upendo with his brother Paolo after they read a copy of the poem Lancelot and Guinevere, which was probably what Paolo was holding in the sculpture. Their tryst had been discovered and Giovanni had immediately killed them both there and then. She couldn’t remember what happened to him after that.

To her right, Rapunzel was eagerly painting the sculpture; whilst on her right, Snow White was using watercolours. Mr Wiggins flicked on the radio and the class worked in a companionable silence as muziki filled the room. Finally, Mr Wiggins announced that their time was up. He moved from each table, complimenting their work.

“Good use of shading, Mr Castle. I like the way it incorporates the hidden message of the dark tragedy of their tale into the picture; almost foreshadowing, as it were. Well done. Mr Street, interesting colour choice. Mr Rider, I like the angle wewe used for the Thinker there; nice work. Miss Forest, good detailing. Miss French, I like it. Ah, Miss Sunne; now that is very, very good, almost lifelike! I can almost see the characters leaping off the page and into our world.” Eventually, he said, “Well, class, all in all a fine effort from all of you. I’m very impressed. For homework, I want wewe to find another artist who worked in sculpture, besides Rodin, choose a sculpture and recreate it in your vitabu like wewe did with Rodin’s works today. Again, wewe can use any art technique wewe fancy. Well, then, class dismissed.”

Rapunzel grinned as she packed away her paint box. “Isn’t he great? He’s my favourite teacher!”

“Well, he does seem nice,” Belle agreed, “But so was Mr Nathaniel, I thought.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s nice too. But some of them here can be really strict!” Merrida shook her head. “Like Mr Jafar!”

“Or Mr Frollo!” Snow White shuddered. “I don’t like him!”

“We’ve got him next,” Meg reminded her.

“Mr Phil is nice,” alisema Jasmine, “but he’s a stickler for discipline and for getting things right first time.”

“And Mrs Prudence is quite strict,” Rapunzel added, “but I bet she’s got a moyo of dhahabu really!”

“Mr Genie’s a laugh,” alisema Merrida. “And Professor Porter’s an old softie!”

“I like Mr Thatch,” alisema Snow White, cheerfully. “He’s nice too.”

“Sure,” Meg agreed, “bit of a loser but whatever.”

“So it’s Religious Education next, then?” Belle said.

“Yeah, but we call it R.E,” grinned Rapunzel. “But first, lunch! I’m starving!”