An alarm clock blaring through the room, a small groaned can be heard as a hand lazily reached the snooze button. A boy with blazing red hair got up and rubbed his eyes tiredly, he glanced around and started walking to the bathroom to get ready. He grabbed his white collar shirt uniform paired with a dark trousers and started buttoning the shirt and finished it with a red blue strip tie. The end, he grabbed his red jacket.
He proceeds to made his bed neat and tidy, and took all his clothes to the laundry basket and grabbed the laundry basket downstairs to do the laundry. Opened the washing machine he placed all the dirty laundry to washing machine, divided the laundry and pour the detergent, and let the rest of the washing done with the machine. The next thing he gone to the kitchen for some breakfast. Of course he was used to made his own breakfast; taking the bread and the milk from the fridge and placed it in the toaster while preparing some jam from the upper cupboard, tiptoeing to reach on the top and finally placed it on the table at the same time the toast was ready.
Spread the jam carefully, as he made his way to grabbed some cup and pour the milk while continuing his homework he was working last night. Until the sudden sound of a cough distract him from his work. Slowly he made his way to the living room, found out a woman with a worn out face, smeared make up, and wild hair sat on the couch in front of an ashtray full of cigar. The boy only closed the door slowly not to wake the woman up. He then took his homework inside his bag, write a note that said "We're out of Milk- Sam" and post it to the fridge. Finally finished his breakfast, opened the door of the house, and start his day.
Torture. One and only word to describe today is torture. Fieldtrip day for the St. Castor Academy, and today they were going to visit the museum. The school took twenty mental case kids and two teachers on a school bus, heading to the International Gallery to look at some paintings and learning the history about the art and the artist. Definitely sounds like torture. Although there's the plus side, he can look at painting and don't need to study at the class all day long with boring lecture from teachers.
"Now remember students! No touch, no talk, no running, and no cellphones!" announced Miss Brunner, startling him from his thought and earning a groan from the students; some mumbled about this being the worse field trip ever. "No buts! We've informed your parents my number and Mr. Cloud number in the case of emergency."
Finally, Mr. Cloud came to the front of the group and gestured them all to follow him up to the stairs. Leading the class inside with a check list of every student to make sure they weren't get any lost. They gathered inside after handing over their phones and looked around as the teachers talked to the curator of the place. Sam stood still near the centre, watching Mr. Cloud and the stairs for their guide. He glanced around the main hall and darted over to the information counter. He grabbed up a map and opened to read it.
"Sam," startled Miss Brunner, standing beside him. "How are you feeling?" she asked him softly.
Sam looked up at her. "I'm feeling fine Miss Brunner." he replied with a soft lying smile. The smile he always used to made people go away and leave him alone.
Miss Brunner responded with a smile and ruffled his hair softly. "You know you can talk to me about anything you want to right?" she informed him.
"Of course Miss Brunner."
She nodded and walked away from him and proceed to help Mr. Cloud on the field trip.
Field trip or not, nothing was different from any other day. He dreaded the day that the teachers would just mind their own business, or let him walk down hallways without getting slammed into a locker or worse, one day of him minding his own business and ignored the people or being ignored. But of course that won't happen, he got a lot on his school file, being a foster child in the care of social care and the quite shy students won't actually be ignored by anyone. He shook his head, today is not the day he thought about those things; today is just him and walking around the gallery looking at painting and failed understanding the painters meaning of their painting.
They were lead into a large gallery room and the group began to wander around. Some students were clearly very bored and annoyed at having been stripped out their phones, some of them cheered while reminding the others they were missing history. Sam noticed one of his classmate grinned at an elegant puzzle box with three raised stones on the top.
"I'd love to have this for a jewelry box, it's gorgeous," she observed, brushing a hand over the top of it quickly before guiltily around.
"It's nice," her friend agreed as she glanced down at the sign, "By Giuseppe di Cattivo. Interesting, says here that he was a painter who lived next to Leonardo da Vinci."
"Blimey!" replied her friend with a surprised tone. "Imagine being neighbored with Leonardo da Vinci."
"Tell me about it." she said again. "I would ask him to paint me thousands time. I can be the next Mona Lisa."
"Next Mona Lisa?" scoffed her friend.
"Oi!" warned her. "I can be."
"In your dream sweetheart."
"Oi!" she pushed her friend lightly, making both of them giggled in the process.
He took a last glanced to the jewelry box and started wondering around the room just like the other students. Until a certain painting took his notice, a painting of a lady wearing a red dress with soft fierce chocolate brown eyes and a wide unique elegant smiled; she has golden colored haired with brown roots. He looked at it closely, feeling there's something about the painting that make him easy and warm for an utter reason. But the main thing was even bizarre is how the way the painting felt as if it was analyzing him, keeping a sharp eye on him. In a weird way, he should be freaking out about it, but he wasn't and more weirdly, he didn't mind of her gaze at all.
"I see you found the mysterious painting."
He startled, feeling his heart beating fast for a moment and turned around to find Mr. Cloud behind him. "You startled me," he quipped holding his chest.
"Sorry." Mr. Cloud replied sheepishly, "Just thought you were interested by the painting." he scratched the back of his head nervously before he continued. "Great choice really. See the light surrounding the figure is otherworldly and almost magical, which is balanced out by her completely ordinary clothing. Then, of course, the eyes that glow with warm as the sun, the detail with such imagery."
Sam eyed the painting curiously and looked down where's there is no plat of the name, he turned to Mr. Cloud. "What's the name of the painting?" he questioned him.
"Nobody knows really," he told him, continuing, "That's why it's one of the mysterious painting, but people said it called-"
"Please look around at the other paintings." the curator, Mr. Harding if he was not mistaken announced, smiling at the students. "We will go into the Mona Lisa exhibit shortly."
"Come on," said Mr. Cloud. "Don't want to miss seeing Mona Lisa, although I said her painting is a bit overrated."
Sam smiled at him before following his classmates. He listened to the other move about, as he allowed his eyes to trace the painting in front of him, curiosity still linger through him, turned his gaze around, he kept on walking to seeing Mona Lisa.
"And so to the prize," Mr. Harding suddenly called behind them. "Prepare to meet the Mona Lisa."
Everyone followed Mr. Harding through an elegant set of double doors and into a tall grand room. The gallery walls were decorated in gold and red with a serious of paintings on each other them. A red carpet had been laid and two long benches with red cushions stood on either side. On a dais on the far side of the room, stood a tall display with thick red curtains currently covered the painting underneath.
"The Mona Lisa was begun by Leonardo da Vinci in 1504 in Florence, but finished only shortly before he died in 1519," Harding said as they walked. "For over five hundred years, the Mona Lisa's beauty has remained undimmed. She has been gazed upon by millions in her Paris home and now she is here."
The group stopped as Mr. Harding stepped forward to the curtains and turned back to them with a huge grin. "Feast your eyes and lose your hearts, I give you the Mona Lisa."
The curtains opened dramatically, but everyone gasped. In place of the famous Mona Lisa image was a painting of a short plump woman in a grey skirt and yellow sweater. Ahead of them, Mr. Harding rushed over to a security phone on the wall.
"Security!" he panicky shouted. "The Mona Lisa has been stolen!"