It was a little over a week since the party when my mom came into my bedroom again. This time, she didn’t knock. “Malcolm?” she spoke, catching my attention.

I looked up from the comic book I’d been reading. “Yeah?”

“Can you come with me for a minute?” Confused, I nodded, and followed her out of my room. I followed her down the hall, down the stairs, and through the living room into the kitchen. I was surprised to see my dad standing there. Georgia was there, too, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the counter.

“Hey, dad,” I said, unsure of what was going on.

“Hey, bud.” He held his arms out, and I went to hug him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not trying to sound rude, but genuinely confused.

“Your mom asked me to come over.” I felt my eyebrows shoot up. Mom invited dad to come over? Now I was really confused. My parents could barely stand being in the same room together when they had to, now my mom wanted him to come over?

He laughed. “We have something for you and we wanted to give it to you together,” he explained, as if he’d read my mind. Which probably wasn’t that hard, since I’m sure my face gave my confusion away.

“Something for me?” I looked between the two of them. They wore similar smiles, directing both of them at me.

“Yup,” mom said, moving to stand beside dad. “But before we give it to you, I want you to see something.” Mom moved over to the table and picked up her old laptop. She flipped it open and began clicking. A few minutes later, she was beckoning me over.

I walked over and sat in the chair she directed me in, hearing dad move to stand behind me. “Look,” mom said once everyone was settled, pointing at the screen and stepping back. I glanced at the screen and squinted. It was a picture of a pink balloon.

“Click through the rest of them,” she said.

I did as I was told. There was a picture of cake in the grass, discarded wrapping paper, Georgia opening her presents.

“What do you think, son?” dad asked, resting his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged. “They’re nice?” I guessed, unsure of what they wanted me to think.
“Nice? Are you kidding me!?” mom shrieked and I jumped. Suddenly she was leaning over my shoulder, clicking back through the pictures. “Malcolm, you took these!”

“Yeah, so?” I asked, not understanding where she was going.

“Malcolm, these are amazing! You took these amazing pictures, and you’re ten! This is more than just a ‘lucky shot.’ This is true, raw talent!”

“Well…thanks?”

“Do you like taking pictures?” my dad asked. I shrugged. If I was being honest, I did kind of like trying to compose pictures just right. I learned that when I was trying to stay out of mom’s way.

“Kinda. Why?” I asked, looking over at mom, who was practically shaking with excitement.

“Becaaaaause,” she drew out, hurrying over to the closet. “We got youuuuuuu…” her voice coming from the closet. “This!” she cried, emerging from the closet, holding a professional camera.

My jaw dropped. “No way!” I cried, standing up and taking the box. “You guys didn’t have to do this.” I turned the box over, reading about the camera. “This is insane! Thank you so much!” I set it down on the table and turned to hug my parents.

“No problem, you deserve it,” mom said.

“We’re proud of you, Malcolm. Not only of the pictures you’ve taken,” dad added, “but also with how you’ve handled…the divorce,” he said, almost hesitantly. I just looked down and nodded.

“Well, thanks again,” I said, looking up at them and smiling.

“Aww, you’re welcome!” my mom pulled me in for another hug.

“I want a present, too!” Georgia whined, officially ruining the moment.

From that day on, I spent all my free time taking pictures. Of people, animals, nature, anything that piqued my interest.

Mom continued to encourage my photography. She signed me up for as many photography classes as she could. She also got me in editing classes so I could make my pictures look as good as possible. And as a reward for the good grades I’d gotten in my freshman year of high school, she and my dad pulled their money together to buy me a computer with the best editing software installed.

Speaking of high school, she spent hours trying to convince me to take the photography class offered at school. She’d heard from a friend that the teacher was amazing and really helped their kid. That was enough reason for my mom to be determined to get me signed up. And she would’ve signed me up, except I kept making excuses as to why it didn’t fit my schedule.

Freshman and sophomore year it was that my core classes took up too much space on my schedule. Junior year I convinced her that there were other minor classes I wanted to take. But when my senior year came around, I had no excuse and she jumped at the chance. She signed me up before I even knew what happened.

When I tried to talk her out of it, she finally asked me why I didn’t want to take the class.

“Mom, I’ll have to show my pictures to other kids.”

“So?”

“They’ll judge me, mom!”

“Honey,” she said, sitting down next to me at the table and taking my hand. “There is nothing to judge. They’ll love them!” I sighed; she’d had her mom-goggles on too long, I thought, she didn’t understand how judgmental high school seniors could be.

I opened my mouth to tell her about the viciousness of my peers, but she saw it coming. “Glad we agree! Now go wash up, dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

And that was how I ended up in Ms. Thornton’s photography class.

And that’s how I ended up in Valentine Park.

And that’s how I met her.

It was seventh period on a Friday. As much as I loved my photography class, which my mom smugly pointed out any chance she got, I was tired and just wanted to go home.

As Ms. Thornton talked about different types of lighting, I found my mind drifting to the nap I was planning to take when I finally got home. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, the bell rang, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Okay class!” Ms. Thornton shouted as we began to gather our things. “Your assignment for the weekend,” she said, ignoring our groans of annoyance, “is to get a ‘real-time’ photo. Take a picture of something happening in real time. Don’t pose it, don’t over-think it, just take the picture!”

I heaved a sigh as I hoisted my backpack onto my back. I leaned down to pick up my camera bag and began walking toward the door. “Have a good weekend Malcolm,” Ms. Thornton called.

“You too, Ms. T!” I shot back, before walking out the door.

I didn’t take more than two steps when someone slammed into me. I stumbled, catching myself on the wall before I fell and smashed my camera into a thousand pieces.

I looked around to see my best friend leaning against the door I’d just come out of. He was smirking at me. I rolled my eyes, “Hey, Erwin.”

He pushed off the wall and sighed dramatically and slung his arm around my shoulders. “Malck,” he said, and I cringed at the nickname. “I have a problem.”

I shrugged his arm off as we walked toward my locker. “You have many problems,” I agreed. He scowled at me. I shrugged, “Hey, I was just validating your statement.”

“Well thanks for the validation,” he said sarcastically.

I chuckled. “Sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t. Not in the slightest. “What’s your problem?”

He huffed again. “My problem,” he started, “is that I asked Wren out and she said no. Again.” I rolled my eyes.

This was a constant battle with him. He liked Wren, one of the nicest girls in our school. And unfortunately for him, she’s already dating someone. Every time he asks her out, she says no. Albeit, gently and privately, but she rejects him all the same.

“Wow, shocker,” I said, opening my locker and shoving my books into it.

“C’mon, Malcolm, I’m being serious. I’m a nice guy right?”

“You can be.”

“And I’m funny, right?”

“You think you’re funny.”

“Am I good-looking?”

“You’re no Channing Tatum, but you’re alright.”

He was so deep in thought that I don’t even think he heard me. “One day, she’ll break up with what’s-his-name and then she’ll be begging to go out with me. One day.”

I stared at him a second before shaking my head. “C’mon, let’s go,” I said, shutting my locker.

“You want me to drop you off at home?” he asked, as we walked toward his old Volvo car. It was nearly falling apart, but he refused to get a new one, even though his parents offered to buy him one.

“Nah, Georgia’s sick,” I said. “You do not want to be around a sick teenage girl. They’re whiny, and demanding and it’s not a pleasant experience.”

Erwin nodded, as if he understood the pains of having a sibling, even though he was an only child. “Right, so…my house?”

I shrugged. We always went to his house. Why wouldn’t we? He was rich; he had a flat-screen TV, all the latest video games, a foosball table and a toy racetrack. His dad designs racecars and uses it to test out his miniature models, but we were free to use it when he wasn’t.

But I didn’t want to play another game of foosball, another war game, watch more TV.

“Ok, then where do you want to go?” he asked, starting up the car and pulling out of the school parking lot. It was mostly empty, everyone having rushed out of school the minute the bell rang, desperate to get to the weekend.

“I dunno.”

We drove in silence for a couple minutes before we passed the sign marking the entrance to Valentine Park, the local park located in the center of town. I’d been staring at a woman walking her dog when I realized the park would be the perfect place to get a ‘real-time’ shot.

“Stop!” I cried, suddenly. I saw Erwin jump out of the corner of my eye. “Drop me off at the park,” I said, after the car came to a screeching halt.

“Jeez, Malcolm,” he said, clutching his chest with one hand and pulling up to the park’s curb with the other.

“Sorry,” I said, reaching into the backseat for my camera bag and backpack.

“Wait, you’re getting out here?” Erwin asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. I have to take a picture of something happening in real time for photography,” I explained, opening the door.

“Ok,” he said, nodding. He’d learned that when it comes to my photography, it’s better to not ask questions. “Do you need me to pick you up later?” he asked as I climbed out.

“Nah, I’ll just walk home.”

“Ok, see you Monday,” he said, reaching over the console to slam the passenger door shut. I watched as he tore away from the curb and around the corner. Once he was out of sight, I hoisted my camera bag onto my shoulder and walked towards the center of the park.

I walked passed the playground, figuring it was creepy to take pictures of kids, and down towards the manmade lake. I looked around, not seeing anything interesting to take a picture of. I walked around the paved path that outlined the lake and settled on a bench that faced the other side of the park. The more wooded, scenic side. I figured this side would present me more opportunities since more animals resided on this half of the park.

I threw my backpack to the ground and whipped my camera bag onto the bench beside me. I dug out my camera and threw the strap around my neck. I began fiddling with settings, adapting them so my pictures would accommodate the overcast sky.

Then I lifted my camera to my eye and waited.

After a couple minutes, I saw a bird perched at the top of a tree. I snapped a few shots and then set my camera down. I surveyed the area. I bit my lip when I saw nothing. Then there came the sound of a snapping twig. I whipped my head in its direction and saw a deer emerging from the patch of trees.

I picked up my camera and took picture after picture of the deer sniffing the grass. Suddenly, it looked up, staring into the lens of my camera, but before I could press the button to take the picture, it began running across the grass hill.

I tried to follow it with my camera, but the settings weren’t set up for action shots and it ran into the adjacent woods. It paused for a second, it’s white tail up, and standing out from the blackness of the woods.

I moved my camera in its direction, but it was gone when I finally got there. I sighed.

Keeping my eye to the viewfinder, I began moving my camera back to the place where the bird was still perched in the tree. But before I could, I saw something move.

Whipping my camera back toward the movement, I zoomed in on the area. I was surprised to see it wasn’t an animal, as I’d previously thought. Instead, my camera was focused on a girl. She was leaning against a tree, her nose buried in a book, one leg bent at the knee, the other draped across it. Her feet were bare, the striking paleness of them creating a contrast against the dark green of the grass. The dark brown of the tree made the white of her dress glow.

I used the zoom of my camera lens to study her. Her hair was blonde, pulled back into a lazy bun at the back of her neck, a few loose pieces framing her face. Her eyes were focused intently on the words on the page. The title of the book was visible—it was a poetry book. Whatever she was reading was obviously interesting to her, because she kept taking her bottom lip between her teeth, and the spot between her eyes would pinch together.

It was the perfect picture for the assignment.

I raised my camera and took shot after shot, shifting my body this way and that, trying to find the right angle. I changed a couple settings, trying this and that, determined to cover every base to ensure I got this picture right.

I finally took a break, sitting down on the bench and looking through the photos, making sure everything looked OK.

I was in the middle of flipping through them, smiling down at certain shots that I thought would work, when a voice startled me. It wasn’t so much the voice that scared me, but the proximity of it.

“Are you taking my picture?” I looked up from my camera, and jumped to my feet to see the girl standing directly in front of me.

“I, uh, I, um, yeah, I-I was,” I stuttered. Up close, the girl was even more beautiful than I’d originally thought.

“Why?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. It was then that I noticed she was holding her book. And wearing her shoes.

“I, um, it was for, uh, a school project.” I’ve never been comfortable talking to strangers. Taking their picture, I was fine. But when it came to speaking face-to-face, I usually fell short. I was especially awkward around girls. Extremely awkward around pretty ones.

And she was breathtaking.

What the camera hadn’t picked up on was a dark freckle next to her left eye, and another under the right side of her mouth. And then I made it to her eyes. They were striking. They were shaped like almonds and were the prettiest green, flecked with spots of gold. They were eyes you could get lost in.

Right now, however, they flashed with anger.

“You were invading my privacy for a school project?” she snapped.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I…” but I had nothing to say. I didn’t know what to say. She was right. There she was, trying to read her book in peace and she looked up to see me taking pictures of her. It was weird. Creepy. Stalker-ish. But I’d been too caught up in the moment to notice. “I’m sorry,” I finally settled on.

She set her jaw. When she did, it made her cheekbones more prominent. I looked over her face again. She really was pretty.

“You’re sorry?” she shrieked, her voice dripping with disbelief. She was also really angry.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I wasn’t…I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“You think taking pictures of strangers in a park is normal?” her voice continued to climb with each question she asked.

I wished she would stop asking questions, because I didn’t have the answers.

“Well, n-no.”

“Do you always do this? Take pictures of girls without their consent?” She stared me down, waiting for an answer, an explanation. I shook my head, staring at her with wide eyes, pleading for mercy.

“What are you gonna do with my picture? Not that I’m giving you permission to do anything with it.” She crossed her arms across her chest. I knew what she was thinking I’d do with it, and it made my mouth go dry as I desperately tried to explain myself.

“No!” I shouted, shaking my head and closing my eyes, as if that would make this situation better. “It was for a school project, I swear!” She looked skeptical and I rushed to continue. “I go to Orville High School,” I said, pointing in its direction, as if that would help show I’m not some crazy stalker. “A-and, um, I’m in a photography class,” I said, holding up my camera.

She raised an eyebrow, looking down to the camera in my hand then back up at my face, which was burning with embarrassment and desperation.

“And my teacher, Ms. Thornton, gave us an assignment to do over the weekend, and we had to take a picture in ‘real-time’,” I put air quotes around the phrase, “so I came here after school to see if I could get a picture. And then I came over to this side because I didn’t want people to think I was taking pictures of their kids, or something. And then I was taking pictures of that bird,” I pointed to where it was still sitting in the tree. “And then a deer came out from those woods, and I was taking pictures of it, and then it ran over to those woods,” I pointed again, “and I was trying to take a picture of it, and then you moved, and I was trying to see what you were. I thought you were an animal, but, you weren’t, and…and…” I gulped, avoiding her eyes, “I-I began taking your picture because you were so pretty and peaceful and I thought the shot was pretty…cool,” I finished, realizing how crazy I sounded.

I could feel her eyes on me as I stared at my shoes, wishing I was anywhere but here.

“Okay, well,” she seemed lost for words, as well. “Don’t…do that. You can’t just go around taking pictures of people without them knowing.” I could hear that she was trying to sound annoyed, but I could tell she wasn’t as mad as she had been.

I nodded. “S-sorry,” I said, finally meeting her eyes again. After a few moments of eye contact, I looked away, quickly packing up my camera and grabbing my backpack. When I turned back around, I was shocked to find her still standing there, looking at me.

I fidgeted, shoving my hands in my pockets and awkwardly shuffling by her. I felt her turn and watch me. “Uh, sorry, again,” I said, looking down and then up again.

“Have a nice day,” I said when she didn’t say anything in return. She just blinked at me, and I turned and began to walk as fast as I could, breaking into a sprint once I was out of her sight.

On Monday we shared our pictures with the class. They were rough copies, as Ms. Thornton requests that all photos we take be brought in unedited, so she can approve them before we do anything else with them.

When it was my turn, I shared a picture of my mom doing the dishes I’d taken Saturday night.

I refused to use the picture of the girl I’d taken. Mainly because I was afraid of her, but also because she hadn’t given me permission to use it.

My mom tried to convince me to use it, saying, and I quote, “Malcolm, that’s the most beautiful picture you’ve ever taken.”

I agreed, I thought it was one of the better pictures I’d taken, but the memory of the girl yelling at me terrified me still. The thought of having to go through it again made me want to die. So I just uploaded those pictures onto my computer, in their own separate file, because I couldn’t bear to delete them, but I turned the picture of my mom in for a grade.

//

It had been a couple weeks since the incident with the girl, and I’d all but forgotten about it. Then Erwin had showed up at my house, shouted to my mom he was taking me “out” and dragged me out to his car.

We’d only been in the car a couple minutes before I’d figured out where we were going. We’d driven this path many times before. We were going to Runaways, a diner that had been built sometime in the 80s by the owners, Jesse and Mary Ann Stein. The name came about because they had run away from home when they were eighteen, ended up here, built the diner and have run it ever since.

We were regular customers and always got free milkshakes.

When we got there, we parked, and walked in, the bell hanging above the door signaling our arrival.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite customers!” Mary Ann called, strolling out to meet us as we plopped down at the counter. “What’s new, boys? That girl take you up on your date offer yet, E?” She turned to me after she said it and we snickered as Erwin angrily snatched up a menu.

Wren’s rejecting of Erwin had become somewhat of an inside joke here.

“And what about you, photo-boy, anything new?”

“He got yelled at by a girl for taking her picture in the park without her knowing!” Erwin cried, seemingly pleased to have the attention focused on someone other than himself. I blushed, glaring at Erwin for bringing it up.

Mary Ann whistled. “That’s something,” she said.

“It was a good picture,” I said defiantly, and Erwin began to cackle.

This is exactly why I hadn’t wanted my mom to tell him what happened.

“I’m sure it was, photo-boy,” Mary Ann said. “Will it be the regular for you two?” she asked, winking at me.

I smiled back, glad that she’d changed the subject. “Yup,” Erwin said, handing her the menu back. “Coming right up,” she said, then turned and called back to where her husband was cooking the food.

“Regs are here, Jess! The usual!” And then she disappeared behind the swinging door.

“So,” Erwin turned to me with a smile, but I was still upset that he’d brought the park episode up, so I glared at him instead of returning it. “Aw, c’mon, you always bring up Wren.”

“No I don’t!” I cried. “Mary does.”

“Alright, fine. She brings it up. But it was about time someone else was the butt of a joke don’t you think?”

“She didn’t laugh,” I mumbled.

“Well I did. I think it’s hilarious,” he said, snickering again.

“Shut up. No it’s not. It was traumatizing. It was—,”

But I never got to finish what I was saying. Because at that exact moment, the bell above the door rang. Both Erwin and I looked over and I gasped, turning back to stare into the kitchen, wide eyed.

“What, what’s wrong?” Erwin asked.

“That’s her.”

“Who? What? Who is she?” Erwin asked, trying to understand why I was acting the way I was.

“The girl from the park. That’s her,” I said, staring straight ahead.

Erwin swiveled his head to get a better look at her. “No way. That’s photo-girl!?” he cried, and I slapped my hand over his mouth.

“Shh!” I hissed. “Could you be any louder?” I snapped. He raised his eyebrows and pushed my hand away from his mouth.

“Sure I could.” I turned to him, staring wide-eyed until he held his hands up, showing me his palms. “But I won’t.” I stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few more seconds before turning back just as Mary Ann set our plates in front of us.
“Enjoy.” And then she moved on to serve photo-girl, as Erwin has taken to calling her.

I was glad when Mary Ann came to collect our money, it meant we could leave. And more importantly, it would mean that I had gotten through dinner without Erwin saying anything to photo-girl. “Have a good night. Stay out of trouble,” she said, shooting a pointed look towards Erwin. He just smiled.

“No promises.”

Mary Ann rolled her eyes and walked away.

My hand was on the door, pushing it open, when I breathed out a sigh of relief. That was when I heard it. “Hey!”

I stopped, stiffened. Erwin turned around before I did. When I did, I saw photo-girl standing there. Nobody said anything for a while. “Well, I’ll be in the car,” Erwin said, winking at me as he passed.

The door shut behind him, leaving me alone with photo-girl. 

She was staring at me again. This time, though, I had nothing to say, or apologize for, so I stayed quiet. This was her move.

“What’d you do with the picture?” she finally asked, her voice demanding.

“Nothing,” I answered and shrugged.

“I thought you took it for a ‘school project.’” She put air quotes around school project, and I felt my face scrunch up in disbelief.

“It was for a school project!” I insisted, but she only rolled her eyes. “I didn’t use it because you ‘didn’t give me permission.’ I used a different picture.” I used air quotes right back at her. That seemed to confuse her. She c***ed her head to the side and just blinked at me again.

“Stop doing that,” I finally whined.

“Doing what?” she asked.

“Staring at me.”

“Oh, so you can take pictures of me, but I can’t look at you?”

I narrowed my gaze at her, offended now. “Hey, I apologized for that.” And then I added, “Is that what you wanted? To torment me?”

When she didn’t say anything, I turned to leave.

“Hey wait,” she called, grabbing my arm before I could make it outside. I sighed and turned around.

“What?”

“That’s not what I wanted to…that’s not what I wanted.” Then she fell silent. I stared at her, waiting. But as the moment dragged on, I realized she wasn’t going to say anything else.

“And you wanted…” I prompted her.

She pursed her lips, squinting as she looked into my eyes. Her eyes began shifting around the diner and I realized she was debating something. I watched her, waiting. I have to admit, I was curious now. I wanted to know what she wanted, even if she was determined to make me wait to find out.

“I wanted, um,” she finally said, “I was wondering if I could see the picture.”

Oh, I realized, staring down at her. She was quite tiny. “I suppose,” I said, then smiled at her, a plan hatching in my head. “But,” I added quickly. And she squinted up at me, crossing her arms across her chest.

“But what?” she hissed, but I shook my head.

“Uh uh, you’re not going to intimidate me this time.” She snarled and glared up at me.

“But, if I show you, I can turn it in for my project.”

“What?!” she shrieked. “No! Plus, you said you already turned in a different picture,” she said.

“My teacher is very understanding. She always wants us to turn in our best work. That was the best picture I’ve ever taken!”

“Well, you can’t turn it in!”

“Then I guess you can’t see it.”

Her jaw dropped in disbelief as I turned to leave. “Wait, but, ugh!” she cried, and I smiled. Now she was as flustered as I was the first time we met. “But I wanna see it!” she whined, following me out of the diner.

“Hey, you gotta pay for that!” I heard Mary Ann call from inside.

“And I want other people to see it,” I said, enjoying this way too much. She pursed her lips again and I could tell she was debating it. Then she shook her head.

“No, no. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I asked, a little deflated that my plan didn’t work. This was the one picture I was really proud of. I wanted to share this one. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let me.

“Because,” she huffed. “It doesn’t matter! That’s why! Just let me see it!” she cried, stomping her foot.

“Hey, miss, you gotta pay for your meal,” Mary Ann burst through the door, and took hold of the girl’s arm.

“I’m coming,” she snapped, yanking her arm free. She gave me one last pointed look before following Mary Ann back inside.

I swallowed, digesting everything that just happened before turning on my heel and walking to where Erwin was watching from the car. I was buckling my seat belt when I realized the car wasn’t on.

I looked up to see Erwin smirking at me. “What?” I asked.

“What was all that about?” he asked and I rolled my eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I said.

“Just tell me,” he said.

I sighed. “She wants to see the picture. I said if I showed her then she’d have to allow me to turn it in as my project. She said no, so I said no. It’s as simply as that.”

He was silent for a minute. “She really wanted to see it didn’t she.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“I wonder why.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You’re crazy to not let her see it,” he finally said, turning the key in the ignition.

“What? Why?” I asked, stopping him from putting the car in reverse.

“She seems like she’d do anything to see it,” he said, as if that made all the sense in the world.

“Yeah, so?”

“She’s cute,” he smirked.

Oh.

“Seems like she’d do anything to see that picture,” he said again. And in this context it made sense.

He put the car in reverse as I sat there, stunned at his brilliance. As he backed out of the space, the diner door opened and photo-girl came sulking out. “Hey wait,” I nodded towards her. “Pull the car up,” I said, and he did as he was told.

“Hey!” I called to her. She glanced over and then looked straight ahead. She continued to walk, and Erwin moved the car to match her pace. “I just wanna talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”

I sighed and looked at Erwin. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. I looked back over to her, just in time to see her turn the corner and follow the sidewalk along the side of the building. 

Erwin turned the car. “I’ll let you see the picture,” I called, but she kept walking. I sighed again. “And I won’t make you give me permission to turn it in.”

That got her attention. She stopped and turned towards the car. “Really?” she asked, as if she didn’t believe me. I nodded. She smiled.

“Cool.”

She began to step off the sidewalk when Erwin nudged me. “But!” I added quickly, and her smile fell. She backtracked onto the sidewalk again.

I opened my mouth to tell her my bargain but no words came out.

“But…” Erwin reminded me. I looked at him and opened my mouth. Again, nothing came out.

“But,” I said, turning back to see her waiting, hesitant. “But nothing,” I finally said. She raised her eyebrows.

“Really?” she asked, even more suspicious than last time.

I sighed and then nodded. “Sure,” I smiled at her. “I mean, it’s a picture of you. It wouldn’t’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

She smiled at me, and stepped off the sidewalk. She came up to the window.

“Cool,” she said. “So, where is it?”

“At home. On my computer.” I stared up at her. “I guess you could come over one day, maybe, tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Ok.”

“I can meet you at the park, near the playground and then we can walk to my house,” I said, sensing she wasn’t the type of person to just show up at someone’s house.

She nodded. “Cool. Tomorrow at, noon? We’ll meet?”

I nodded. “Alright, see you then.”

She smiled and then turned, got back on the sidewalk and walked away.

“Dude!” Erwin cried when we couldn’t see her anymore. “What was that?”

I shrugged, looking out the window as we exited the parking lot. “I took pictures of her without her consent, she can see them if she wants to.”

The next day, I told my mom that the girl from the photo was coming over. I explained to her what happened at the diner.

“That was nice of you, to respect her decision to not share the picture,” she said once I’d finished.

I smiled, “It was the right thing to do.”

“I raised a good kid,” she said.

“What about me?” Georgia cried, walking into the kitchen.

“I raised two great kids,” mom corrected, leaning over to kiss Georgia’s forehead.

“Alright, I’m gonna go meet her,” I said, “And then I’ll be back.”

“Ok, be safe!” mom called, just as Georgia asked, “Who’s he meeting?”

//

I walked the ten minutes to the park. When I got there, I didn’t see her. I wondered if she’d chickened out. But then she came running up a few minutes later, red faced and out of breath.

“Sorry…I’m late…I had to…drop my sister off…at daycare,” she wheezed. Once she’d regained her breathing she looked up at me and smiled. “But I’m here now.”

We stared at each other for a few moments while she caught her breath. Her smile fell, “Should we go?” she asked, unsure.

I nodded, “Oh, yeah, sure.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and nodded my head, “This way,” I said, and began walking. She walked beside me, and I stole glances of her as we walked.

She really was beautiful.

“What are you looking at?” she asked. But this time she didn’t sound angry. She sounded self-conscious.

“Nothing,” I said, feeling my face turn bright red.

It’s funny, as soon as we’re alone together, in the daylight, I was back to being awkward. Everything I said, and did, was weird. So I tried not to say anything as we walked back to my house.

And neither did she.

//

When we finally made it back to my house, I led her in through the garage. “Mom, I’m home!” I called.

I heard her footsteps run across the hall upstairs and down the stairs. She practically came skidding into the kitchen, stopping by the table, and looking at us.

She had the biggest smile on her face, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. “Hi,” she said, directing her words at our guest.

“Hi,” she said back, taking the hand my mom offered her and shaking. “I’m Cindy James, Malcolm’s mom.”

“Hi Cindy, hi, Malcolm,” she said, turning to me.

That’s when I realized this was the first time she’d heard my name. And I still didn’t know hers.

As if she’d read my mind, mom asked, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Oh,” she giggled, “Right, sorry.” She shook her head as her cheeks tinted pink. “I’m Audrey McKinney.”

“Audrey,” my mom said, glancing at me, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she giggled, awkwardly.

“Well, uh, we’re gonna go up to my room now,” I said, trying to sound casual about it. “Audrey wants to, you know, see my—the—picture,” I corrected myself. Audrey nodded.

“Alright, let me know if you want snacks or anything,” mom called, as we made our way up the stairs.

“She seems nice,” Audrey commented as I opened my bedroom door.

“Thanks,” I said, and we laughed, not knowing what else to do.

“You can, just, uh, sit wherever. I just need to pull it up on my computer,” I said, sitting down at my desk chair and powering up my computer.

It took a few minutes for me to finally get it up. Once I did, I scooted back and let her walk over and see it. I waited, with baited breath, hoping she liked it. That she was as in awe of her beauty as I was.

“Wow,” she finally said, so softly I almost didn’t hear it. “That’s really good.” She looked over at me then.

“Thanks.”

“Can I see the other ones? You took like a thousand,” she said. I felt my face fall with embarrassment. Suddenly she nudged my shoulder. “I’m kidding.” I let out the air I’d been holding in my cheeks and then smiled at her.

“Not funny.” But she laughed anyway. I pulled up the other ones. “I didn’t get a chance to edit these or anything,” I told her before she started scrolling through them. “I just edited the one, because I thought it was the best. But these are okay, too.”

She nodded, half listening to me as she scrolled through the rows of pictures, stopping to admire each one. I watched her face, hoping it would give me a clue as to what she was feeling. But her features didn’t give anything away.

“It’s so weird,” she said after a couple minutes of silence. She looked up at me from where she was kneeling in front of the screen. “It’s, like, the same picture but each one is a little bit different than the others.” She paused and blinked at the picture displayed on the screen. “I like that.”

“Yeah, I was trying a few things out. I was messing around with the lighting and the angles. I wanted to get it right.”

“You did get it right.”

That made my chest swell with pride. “Thanks,” I smiled again. “You just looked so peaceful, ya know?” I said. “You were just so into your book and it was such raw, genuine emotion. Like, when you click through,” I said, leaning forward and taking the mouse and scrolling through them slowly, “You can actually see your emotions change.” I shook my head in awe.

“I think that’s just amazing,” I said, looking over to her. I was startled to find she was already looking at me. Her face was a few inches from mine, her green eyes staring into my brown ones with such intensity I forgot how to breathe for a couple seconds.

And then it happened. She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. It was quick, over before I fully registered what had happened, but it was nice.

“I really wanted to do that,” she said. I took my lips into my mouth and smiled at her.

“I’m really glad you did,” I admitted. I also liked how she didn’t apologize afterwards, as so many people do in the movies.

There was another silence, but this time it wasn’t awkward. I didn’t feel the need to break it. And I didn’t want her to, either. It was comfortable.

“Malcolm,” she said. I looked up. “I just want to apologize for yelling at you, that day in the park. And in the diner. I was acting like such a brat,” she said.

“Not really,” I shrugged. “You were defending your privacy. Sorry for invading it like I did.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t really invade it. I wasn’t doing anything wrong or embarrassing or anything. I just…” she paused to gather her thoughts before meeting my eyes again. “I don’t like having my picture taken. I always think I look weird,” she shook her head and smirked. “I usually do, so I just assumed I did in the ones you took. And then when you told me you were going to share it with your class, or whatever, I just freaked. I thought at first you were making fun of me or something.”

I was processing her words when she continued. “Then I went home and thought about it, and you just seemed like such a nice guy that I didn’t think you would do that. I wanted to see the picture. I tried to find you, but I didn’t know your name, and your school wouldn’t help me out. So then when I saw you in the diner I thought I could just bully you into showing me.” She looked up at me. “And you stood up to me, which was really…unexpected. And then you agreed and you didn’t make me do anything for it like your friend would’ve. Which just proved to me what a good guy you are. And, I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for showing me the pictures, and uh, sorry for acting the way I have. I was overreacting and you’re a really nice guy.”

I was taken aback by her confession. “Well, no problem,” I said. “Thanks for kissing me.”

That got a smile. And then we sat there smiling at each other before she stood up. “I better get going,” she said.

“I’ll walk you out,” I said, getting up and leading her back the way we’d come. My mom met us in the kitchen.

“So what’d you think of it?” she asked.

“I think it’s amazing. Your son is a really good photographer. And, um, a really good guy. You definitely raised him right,” she said, smiling over at me.

My mom looked between us with raised eyebrows. “Well, thank you,” she finally managed to squeak out.

“I’ve gotta go, but maybe I’ll see you around?” she asked me.

“Yeah,” I said, a little too fast, a little too loud. I heard Georgia snickering behind me.

“Do you know how to get back?” my mom asked, seemingly desperate for Audrey to stay.

Audrey nodded. “Yes, thank you. Have a good night,” she said, and then turned to me, “Bye, Malcolm.”

“Bye, Audrey.”

As soon as the door shut, my mom turned to me. She was smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “What?” I asked.

“Something happened,” was all she said, before dragging me to the kitchen table and forcing me to give a blow by blow recounting of everything that happened in the past hour.

The next few weeks were busy. School was coming to a close, which meant I was swamped with schoolwork. Audrey and I began hanging out more and more and eventually she asked if she could be my girlfriend.

My mom squealed when she found out, and forced Audrey to stay for dinner.

Erwin sulked when I told him, mainly because I had a girlfriend and he didn’t. That all changed a few days later when Wren broke up with her boyfriend and asked Erwin out.

That meant Audrey and I were forced to go on double dates with Wren and Erwin—mostly because Erwin was determined to take Wren to Runaways as many times as he could, using any excuse to go, in order to shove the fact that he and Wren were dating in Mary Ann’s face. For him, it was revenge for all the teasing Mary Ann had done to him over the years. For me, it was yet another thing to add to my never-ending schedule.

Oh, and Ms. Thornton was hounding me to submit a photo for the senior showcase. I said no. It’s funny how after all this time, I still refused to let my work be shown. It was mostly to protect myself from my peers’ judgments. How could I continue to take pictures if people didn’t like my work? I just couldn’t risk it. 

Which leads us to now. It’s the last Friday before finals start. Which means it’s the senior showcase, which includes a collage of the seniors’ work throughout their high school career.

Which meant I was staying home.

Mom kept trying to convince me to go, but I refused. Instead, I’m enjoying a night at home watching TV.

I was just about to start the third movie of the night, some baseball movie, when my cell phone rang. A picture of Audrey illuminated my screen. I hit accept and put the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Malcolm?” It was Audrey, her voice shaking as she spoke.

“Yeah?” I asked, sitting up and pausing the movie. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you come get me please? My car broke down and my parent’s won’t answer the phone.”

“Sure, sure. Where are you?” I asked, calling out for my mom.

“Um,” she paused. “I don’t know.”

Just then, my mom emerged with Georgia. “What’s wrong?” my mom asked.

“Audrey’s car broke down. We need to go get her.”

Mom didn’t even wait for me to finish. “Georgia, go get my keys please, Malcolm give me the phone,” she said, taking it from me. “Audrey, hey, honey, calm down. Where are you?”

Georgia came back with the keys and mom shooed us out to the garage.

We sat in the car for what felt like an eternity. “Where’s mom?” I snapped. “My girlfriend’s stranded somewhere and she’s just taking her time,” I complained, my foot tapping the floorboard impatiently.

“She’s probably trying to figure out where she is. You know how bad she is with directions.”

I groaned in response, leaning my head back on the headrest. “Still, it shouldn’t take this long.”

Finally, mom emerged, locking the door behind her and climbing in. She started the car, reversed it and drove off down the street.

I wanted to ask what took her so long, but I didn’t want her snappy reply.

I looked out the window and sighed periodically. Why was it taking this long?

Suddenly, I recognized where we were. “Hey, wait,” I said, sitting up straight and looking out the front window. “Where are we going?”

Neither my mom nor Georgia answered me. “What about Audrey?” I cried, as my mom turned the car into the high school parking lot.

“Hey!” my mom cried, feigning surprise. “Isn’t that her there?” she pointed towards the main entrance of my school where, sure enough, Audrey stood, waving as my mom parked the car and got out.

I followed behind my mom and sister as they embraced my girlfriend. Then the three of them turned to me, wearing identical smiles.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Well,” Audrey said, looping her arm in mine. “Your amazing girlfriend, and mother, and sister,” she said, putting her arm around my mom’s waist, winking at Georgia, “are, as I said, amazing, and refuse to let you hide your talent from the world any longer. So we took it upon ourselves to submit your work for the senior showcase.”

She dropped her arm from around my mom, and turned to me, holding my waist. “You can thank us later,” she said, pecking my lips before turning around and prancing into the building, with Georgia on her heels.

“Mom?” I asked, turning to her. She raised her hands in surrender.

“It was her idea,” she shrugged. “I just went with it, and forgot to tell you.” She laughed, kissing my forehead before wrapping her arm around my shoulders and guiding me inside.

The event was held in the gym. And it was packed. There were shrines of students’ work all over the gym. Lining the walls and spaced evenly throughout the room. Near the far back wall, right in the center, was a huge set up illuminated by a spotlight.

That was where Audrey was eager to get to. “I wanna see what it is,” she whined, tugging on my hand.

Finally, I allowed her to pull me along as she attempted to weave through the crowd. Unable to break through it, she pulled me towards the outer edges of the room, sliding along the wall to get to the back, before running through the crowd, shoving more aggressively this time. She finally came to a halt in front of the table.

She took a few minutes to catch her breath before turning to me with a smile. “So?” she said. I looked at her as if she’d gone crazy.

“So what?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I could answer that question better if I could see what it was,” I answered.

She rolled her eyes. “Then go see,” she said, pulling me through the rest of the crowd before pushing me toward it once we’d made it to the front.

I caught myself before I slammed into the table. Once I regained my balance, and finished glaring at Audrey, I turned back around and stopped in my tracks. Hanging on the front of the first table that made up this little presentation, was my yearbook picture, next to a sign that said “Senior Spotlight Winner.”

Sitting behind the table was Ms. Thornton. She smiled brightly at me, and then stood up. She cleared her throat and addressed the congregation looking at my pictures that were hung tacked onto the presentation boards huddled around the table. And in the middle of it all, with the light shining on it, was the picture I’d taken of Audrey.

I felt my throat go tight. And then she began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she shouted, “May I have your attention please.”

She waited for the noise to die down before continuing. “Tonight, we are honoring all of our seniors. Around the room you will notice the works of all our students, the pictures they’ve taken or painted or created throughout their high school career. Projects they completed both in and out of school. We are so proud of all our graduating seniors, of all they’ve accomplished during their time here at Orville High School, and all that they will continue to accomplish once they leave!”

She paused for the applause. “But tonight, our school is honoring a particular senior, who has taken some of the best photographs I have ever seen.” She turned to me then. “Malcolm James,” she said, pointing at me, and beckoning me forward.

I took a few tentative steps before she reached me and pulled me to her. “Around me are all of his works. While all of them are good, we are especially proud of the picture here in the center.” She walked a few steps and laid her hand on the glass case encompassing the picture of Audrey. “He took it because I assigned it to him,” she started, “but did so much more than I ever intended the project to produce. With every photograph he takes, he exceeds expectations. He works hard at what he does. He puts his heart and soul in it, and we believe he deserves something to reward him for all his efforts.” She took a breath, licked her lips, and looked at everyone watching her.

“Tonight,” she smiled, “I am proud to announce that Orville High School is officially recognizing Malcolm’s talents and giving him a one thousand dollar scholarship.” The crowd applauded then, some of the photography students and friends of mine who had attended cheered. “So, Malcolm,” she said, looking at me. “Use this money as motivation. Keep doing what you’re doing. You have a real talent and we want to support your continued pursuit of it. Thank you,” she said, signaling the end of her speech.

The rest of the night was a blur. I remember hugging Ms. Thornton and thanking her for helping me improve my photography skills.

I had my picture taken as I shook the principle’s hand and received the money.

My dad was there. I hugged him, and my mom, and Georgia and Audrey.

The night was a constant stream of congratulations from friends and peers and teachers who had attended the showcase.

And then we were back at my house, all of us, sitting around the kitchen table.

My mom had made a cake, and we ate it and talked and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Then my mom wanted to make a toast.

“I would like to make a toast in honor of Malcolm, the most talented photographer to ever walk the planet!” Her exaggeration got a laugh from everyone. “But seriously, honey, your father and I are so proud of you. Your sister’s proud of you. We are all proud of you. I can’t wait to see what you accomplishment, I know it’ll be great. I love you so much, honey. So, to Mal—,”

Just as everyone was about to toast me, I spoke up. “Mom, I actually have something to say real quick.”

“Ok,” she said, sitting down as I stood up.

“Um, so I just want to thank you all for getting me to where I am now. Mom, you gave me the opportunity because you made me photograph Georgia’s party. And then you and dad got me my first camera, which was the first of many, so thank you guys. And Georgia, uh, I guess thanks for being born?” Everyone laughed.

“Seriously, it was at your birthday party that this all started, so thanks, sis.” She rolled her eyes and gave me a side hug from where she sat beside me.

“And then, Audrey. It was you who got me the recognition I received tonight. If you hadn’t been at the park that day, and you hadn’t been so pretty,” I smiled as she blushed at my comment, “I never would’ve bothered taking your picture. And thanks for allowing me to show it to the world. I know that wasn’t easy for you, but you did it anyway, for me, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Um,” I paused, “Everyone always talks about the photographer. They always get the credit, which, I’m not complaining about,” I laughed, “But without something to take pictures of, something to inspire them, their job is pretty pointless. So thanks for being my inspiration, Audrey.”

And then I sat down, overwhelmed at my surprising outpouring of emotion. And then I felt Audrey take my hand and I looked up at her.

‘I love you,’ she mouthed.

‘I love you, too,’ I mouthed back.

“Let’s toast,” my dad said, picking up his drink. “To…” he trailed off, thinking. “Photographers and their inspiration!”

As everyone raised their glasses, I realized the truth in that statement.

“To photographers and their inspiration!”

Yeah, I thought, I can toast to that.