The Art Class – Dan’s POV

Warning – this contains spoilers for The Heir!

This is an alternative point of view from the outtake I have already posted of the first time Keridan ever really spoke to Sarah.


The Fenhardts’ financial troubles didn’t just affect the way the students treated Sarah, but the teachers as well.

We’d noticed in our first year how the wealth of each individual marked them out from others. Popularity at Enterprise Academy was inextricably linked to financial wellbeing. It was one of the reasons Jillandrina and I were so popular.

I was jealous of Jillandrina, being able to show such impartial support for Sarah throughout this difficult time. Even though I was now considered Jill’s boyfriend and had spoken to Sarah a few times, I had been hesitant to put myself forward with her too much, to such an extent that I didn’t do it at all. Now, it seemed unwise to suddenly befriend her for no apparent reason, although I knew she could do with another reliable friend. Too sudden a change might make people think I had the wrong intentions towards Sarah – something that was to be avoided at all costs – so I was stuck with working out exactly what my response to her should be. But it was difficult to hold myself back, especially when I saw the teachers picking on her.

“Try to pay attention, Ms Fenhardt!”

Mr Sower was our art teacher. During our sophomore year, Sarah had chosen the second level of a drawing elective. She had done the entry level the year before, not that she needed either level, in my opinion. It was clear to me that her drawing was better than our teacher’s.

He didn’t seem to share my opinion. He was looking over her shoulder, his glasses sliding off his beaky nose as he frowned at her. “You haven’t been listening at all, have you? That’s not the way I told you to do it. I suggest you try again and listen to what I’m saying next time.”

My blood boiled. Last year she had been Mr Sower’s favorite student as he’d lauded her talent. That had changed when news about her poverty had spread.

I tried to ignore him, but it was difficult when I saw Sarah trying to hide her face so that no one could see her crying. Not that anyone cared, except me.

After the lesson, Mr Sower barked at her again. “Sarah, put the trolley away. You know it’s your responsibility to put away what you’ve used.”

I bit my tongue. Sarah hadn’t used that art trolley.

She did as she was told, but when she was trying to push it into the storage room it got stuck in the doorway. Everyone else was studiously ignoring her, but I wasn’t going to tolerate that.

I walked up behind her, put my hands on either side of hers, and pushed the trolley in for her.

She turned around, startled. It was the closest I’d ever been to her. I only realized at that point just how blue her eyes were.

As she met my gaze, I could see fear on her face; fear of what I might say to her, I suspected.

I smiled. “Sorry. It looked like you needed some help.”

I felt it was unwise to stay and continue to talk to her in case anyone noticed the sudden change in my behavior. When I saw her reaction, I felt I had made the right decision; she blushed deeply. It made me angry to think that the way these natives had been treating her made her shocked at any assistance at all.

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