Mal trudged into the ISH building, the weight of sleep deprivation dragging on him. He’d known he had needed to cut his gaming session short the night before, but it was still well past two in the morning when Harper snuck in to emotionally… and, well, physically torture him. As soon as he lay down, time seemed to warp, and the alarm blared too soon at 6:00 AM.
Pushing open the door to the art studio, he was greeted by the sounds of commotion. His classmates were already in full swing, moving tables, easels, and canvases around the massive open space. At the center of the chaos, he spotted Nezami, her intense gaze fixed on the gigantic banner going up for the campus-wide art exhibition.
Mal dropped his bag by the entrance and rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of his night and morning.
“Mal! Finally, you’re here!” Enrique called out, grinning as he and Kevin hauled a massive table across the floor. “Grab that easel in the hall and bring it in here. We need to set up all these display areas ASAP.”
Mal blinked, still half-asleep. "Do you want just one or both of them?"
"Both,” Kevin said, wiping his brow. “But they are heavy as hell, so just take one at a time,”
Mal smirked. "Please, don’t let the nerd exterior deceive you. I got this."
“Big talk,” Enrique chimed in from the other side of the room, where he was adjusting the lighting setup. “Let’s see you back it up.”
With a roll of his eyes, Mal headed into the hallway, grabbed the easels, and lugged them back inside.
Nezami, focused on the banner in front of her, barely looked up.
“We’re setting up for the exhibition,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. “This banner will be the centerpiece—six panels of canvas that need to be printed and assembled perfectly. You’re in charge of making sure each piece aligns correctly.” She said, talking to Franco.
Franco was one of the esteemed seniors at the college, serving as the vice president of the Art Committee. With his tall, fit frame, dark brown hair, and warm brown eyes, he carried an air of sophistication matched only by his posh sense of style. Having taken Nezami under his wing, he positioned himself as her mentor, offering guidance and support as she navigated the complexities of her artistic journey.
“OK, team, we have some specific instructions,” Franco called out. “Mal, you’ll be overseeing the printing process. Make sure there are no smudges and no misalignments. This has to be perfect. Enrique and Kevin, once each piece is printed, you’ll be in charge of moving them upstairs to the exhibit hall. The pieces need to dry, so don’t mess this up.”
Mal blinked in surprise. “Wait, I’m in charge of that? I just walked in.”
Nezami finally looked up, her gaze steady and calm. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”
He sighed as he set down the easels. “Well, I came here to work on some of my stuff, but... sure, why not?”
“You will be able to, but if you are going to sit in here, you could keep an eye on this for me… and for the Committee,” Nezami replied, pointing to the large printers slowly pumping out the large prints.
“Ok, I’d be happy to help, so what am I doing.”
Kevin elbowed him as he walked by. “Late night, Mal? You look like you barely slept.”
“Ya long gaming session,” Mal said, giving him a knowing eye.
“Ya, ya gaming session,” Kevin replied using air quotes.
“I might need a gallon of coffee to survive this.”
“And a cold shower,” Enrique chuckled as he moved the large print to the side.
“Can we not?” Mal replied.
“Can we not what?” Nezami asked.
“Umm, mess with Mal; he ran us through a dungeon last night and was up really late… um grinding…” Enrique said in the most sarcastic of tones.
Kevin, looking at Mal, started laughing almost uncontrollably.
“Hmmm, that sounds pretty fishy, but whatever you boys do on the computer is whatever,” Nezami said, not playing into it and walking off.
She was clearly busy, and Mal was not entirely sure what was happening. He looked around at the chaotic studio, tables cluttered with art supplies, banners half-rolled out, and students frantically adjusting their displays. Franco, their unofficial leader for this project, stood by one of the printers, frowning at the screen as he tweaked the alignment.
Enrique groaned. “Why do we always get the heavy lifting?”
Franco shrugged. “Because you’re large and the ones that complain the loudest.”
Kevin snickered. “Yeah, that checks out.”
“So, what’s this big banner about anyway?” Mal asked.
Franco turned the computer screen toward him, revealing the massive image that, once printed, would span six canvas panels. It was a surreal scene of a sprawling cityscape, with abstract figures twisting and merging into the architecture. Nezami’s signature style was right in the center, her delicate yet powerful strokes merging reality with dreamlike fantasy.
Mal couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. Nezami was a genuine prodigy, and seeing her work up close never failed to amaze him.
“That’s... incredible,” he muttered.
“Yeah, it’s Nezami’s brainchild,” Franco said. “We’ve got to do it justice. This exhibition is a big deal, not just for her, but for all of us.”
Kevin wiped his hands on his shirt, grinning at Mal. “So, are you ready to babysit some printers?”
Mal smirked, rolling his shoulders. “I think I can handle it.”
“Good,” Franco said, clapping him on the back. “Let’s make this exhibition unforgettable.”
The group worked in sync, setting up the room piece by piece. Mal carefully monitored the printer, watching each stunning panel of Nezami’s artwork slowly came to life.
This is what he wanted: a life of art and exhibits.
Mal sat at his makeshift workspace, watching the printers push the large vinyl sheets across the line of desks they had set up. He got up occasionally to adjust the material, making sure the pages didn’t bunch up and jam the machines. As the centerpiece of the image began to print, he recognized the graffiti-covered wall that featured the sponsor's logo. The skateboard company Nova rode for; he hadn’t noticed it when Franco showed him the image on the screen earlier.
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“I didn’t realize they were such a big sponsor,” Mal thought, glancing at the logo as it emerged. The company was massive and known worldwide. “I guess it makes sense; this is the best art school in the nation.”
However, as the graffiti printed out, Mal frowned. The colors looked flat and lifeless, failing to match the vibrancy of the digitally drawn image. He gritted his teeth, frustration building as he noticed how bad it looked.
A short while later, Franco walked in to check on the progress.
“Is the banner going to hang up high?” Mal asked, trying to gauge if it would be viewed from a distance.
“No, why?” Franco replied.
Mal gestured toward the printed section. “It’s just that the graffiti looks really bland, so I was wondering.”
Franco paused mid-comment, his gaze falling on the table. His expression shifted as he took in the faded colors. “Oh man, this looks like shit,” he said and immediately walked out of the room. A moment later, he returned with Kevin and Enrique.
The three of them gathered around the piece, examining it closely. “We need to spruce this up a bit,” Franco said, his brow creased in thought.
“What about some good markers to highlight certain areas?” he suggested with a hopeful tone in his voice.
Mal sat quietly at his desk, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach. Please don’t use markers on that, he thought desperately as the Art Committee kids continued discussing their ideas.
Finally, Kevin looked at Franco and said, “You should probably go get Nezami and let her see this.”
“Ok, I will text her to come and say that the printing doesn’t look as good as expected,” Franco said, pulling out his phone.
Mal knew he could fix it. With some supplies, he could make it pop. The banner was big enough...
like a wall or a building
Mal's eyes traced the emerging details on the vinyl. The photograph of the skateboarder mid-air was stunning, and the futuristic landscape looked brilliant. But the graffiti—there was no denying it looked wrong. The colors clashed rather than complemented the vibrant background.
Whoever Photoshopped the logo in had chosen hues that didn’t mesh with the rest of the scene,” Mal realized.
Instead of standing out, it appeared as an amateurish afterthought, muddled and misplaced.
“What’s going on?” Nezami asked as she burst into the room, her voice a mix of concern and urgency as she approached the table.
Franco, Kevin, and Enrique's expressions were grave, and Mal could sense the tension in the air. He remained at his makeshift workspace, trying to appear busy, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation.
Franco gestured toward the banner. “The colors are way off. It looks flat and lifeless. We considered touching it up with markers, but honestly, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Nezami’s frown deepened, and she stepped closer to inspect the print. “Oh no, this looks terrible! This company is a huge sponsor and expects high-quality work, and we can’t afford to look unprofessional!” Her panic was evident, and she ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing.
Kevin crossed his arms. “We could reprint the graffiti section on a different printer, but that’ll take forever. We’re already on a tight schedule.”
“What if we adjust the color settings? Maybe if we tweak the saturation and contrast, we can get it to match our vision.” Franco said.
Nezami shook her head, the worry etched on her face. “That could work, but it needs to be done fast. We don’t have time for a lengthy process and can’t waste materials either!”
Mal shifted in his seat, torn between staying silent and offering his help. He had ideas about how to fix the colors, but he hesitated, unsure if they would welcome his input amidst the rising tension.
Franco sighed heavily, feeling the pressure of the situation. “I just want this to look good for the sponsors. They’re a big deal, and we can’t disappoint them.”
Nezami’s gaze darted between the print and her teammates, her anxiety bubbling to the surface. “If we don’t fix this, we’ll look so unprofessional. I can’t even imagine what they’ll say!”
“This is not good,” Nezami continued, muffled behind her hands. “The colors are completely off. It’s supposed to blend in and stand out simultaneously, but it’s doing neither.” She envisioned the banner displayed at the exhibition as vibrant and eye-catching, but the flawed graphic threatened to undermine all their efforts.
“I didn’t even know how to help them with this,” Enrique stated.
“When is this supposed to be delivered?” Mal asked, finally offering a voice that he was, in fact, still in the room.
“First thing in the morning because that’s when the expo starts,” Enrique replied.
“Well, if we adjust the digital file, we can correct the colors before the next print. It might take a little time, but it’d look way better than using markers.” Franco stated.
Kevin shrugged slightly, trying to remain calm under her intense gaze. “It might not be perfect, but it’s better than wasting more time. We could start working on fixing the colors now, cancel the other jobs, and print those sections last. At least it gives us a chance to meet the deadline.”
Nezami shook her head vehemently. “No. I hate that idea. It’s sloppy and unprofessional. We need to get this right the first time, not cobble it together and hope it works. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly.”
The room fell silent, her frustration hanging heavy in the air. Mal felt the tension in his shoulders, understanding her anger but also feeling the pressure of the ticking clock.
Mal hesitated, but he couldn’t stand there doing nothing. He took a deep breath and decided to speak up, though his voice was tentative.
“Nezami,” he said quietly, “I can fix it. I can adjust the colors for the graffiti and get it to blend properly. It’ll take some time, but I think it’s doable.”
Nezami turned her intense gaze toward him, her expression softening slightly as she saw his earnestness.
“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I don’t think you understand who this customer is, and your skills aren’t… well…” she said.
“Good enough?” Mal retorted. “Ya, I get that, but only what you have seen… this is actually my medium.”
“Either way, getting you into the files to modify this would be the first step. Do you even know how to use some of the digital tools?”
“I’m not talking about using the computer; I will spray paint right on the canvas.”
“You are out of your mind if you think we will…”
Enrique cut her off. “Are you saying spray the graffiti…like real graffiti?”
“Exactly,” Mal replied, excitement bubbling within him at the idea of this challenge.
Nezami stared at him; he could tell she was processing the idea.
“I just… don’t…” flinging her hair over her face, pulling her hoodie up and drawing the strings tight, she continued, but now her words were muffled.
Oh, now I see how this... I will show her.
“I may not grasp the marketing context, but I know exactly who Nova and this company is.”
Like an angel, or maybe a solid coincidence, Momo walked in, clearly having heard some of the conversation.
“Listen, Nezami, everything around graffiti Mal has done thus far has been exemplary. If he says he can do it, I bet it will turn out awesome.”
Exemplary? Who is this dude but, good looking out my brother Mal thought to himself as Momo gave him a knowing nod.
“Let me think for a second,” Nezami said from beneath the hoodie.
“Thanks, Momo, for saying that. But seriously, I can do this. I’m confident about it, but I’m also smart enough to know that you should still explore other options. What do you have to lose? The logo of these panels has already been printed. Even if I screw up—which I won’t...” He gestured emphatically.
Nezami paced back and forth along the long table, glancing at the two fresh prints of the logo section.
This is a whole different side of her —he thought, it’s all business, but the anxiety vibration coming off her he was very familiar with.
In one swift motion, Nezami pulled the hoodie down, undid two clips holding her hair up, bent over, and used her fingers to tousle it free.
“I just don’t understand why this is so difficult and why everyone waits until the last minute...” she grunted from her semi-fetal position.
“If we have to reprint this, it will take almost four and a half hours. We need enough time for someone to come in and ensure the table gets moved. The setup wasn’t great—it printed across multiple plotters simultaneously, and then it all had to be lined up with the seams heat-pressed on the vinyl. The poster is pretty massive.”
“Look, you can’t screw this up. This is one of my most important sponsors, and I can’t have you painting it willy-nilly just because you’re an alleged ‘street artist,’” she said, making air quotes.
Oh, it’s on now…wait willy-nilly…ok grandma, Mal thought.
“No, I understand. This is light work. I can keep it within the logo that’s already printed. Okay, I’ll run to the hardware store and get the necessary supplies. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”
“Hold on. Come back to my desk. You can use the Art Committee credit card to buy whatever supplies you need,” Franco said, waving him toward the other hallway.
“Oh, sweet, alright.”
This feels very adult, he thought to himself.
Finally, she stood up and nodded, her tone still firm but less harsh.
“Alright, Mal. If you think you can fix it, then let’s do it. I have nothing to lose because this isn’t your problem anyway. I’m going to look for some solutions.”
“You bet, boss,” Mal replied, grabbing his backpack and keys.