storyboard of soul painting Inc
Kuvakäsikirjoitus Teksti
- " I reach inside the window of Papi’s van and yank on the handle to open the passenger door. It’s my turn to ride in front. Roli sat there last time. “You think they’ll need a painter soon?” Papi asks as I slide in next to him. "
- “Hurry up, Merci. I want to get out of here.” He dips his roller again and turns back to the wall. His muscles strain against his T-shirt as he rolls faster and faster. “It shouldn’t take forever to paint a stupid door.” “It does if you’re doing a good job,” I say. I stand up and look over at Roli. What a disaster. When Papi sees this, he’s dead. Papi says a good painter can work without splatters or drips. Roli has sloshed paint all over the place, and there are streaks and drips on the walls where there shouldn’t be any. No quality control, that’s the trouble. I’ll have to discuss this with Papi as we determine Roli’s future with us.
- And just like that, they burst through, their hands and bodies sliding over the wet door as I stand there, rooted to the spot. They barrel through, shrieking with laughter as they get smeared. One or two make handprints on each other’s backs. And then somebody wipes herself clean on one of the walls Roli finished a while ago. I stare, breathless, at the long streak of red fingers along the length of it. They’re dead and I can’t wait to see it happen. Papi is going to yell at them for ruining my work. Any second, his voice will boom across the gym. The walls will rattle. When Papi loses his temper, it feels as if you’re trapped inside a huge storm cloud. But as the seconds tick by, absolutely nothing happens. I finally turn to see that Papi has stopped in his tracks, his hands in his pockets as he watches girls race past. We are ghosts as they go by — unseen. Finally, the tall girl looks at us from the top of the steps leading to the locker room.
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