The Paparazzi Project

by Kristina Springer

  “Totally,” Sara agrees.

  “Great.” I finish my pretzel, and we get up and toss our trash in the bin. “Okay, I told you guys who our celebs from class are. So if you see them anywhere, don’t call them out or anything, but let me know and I’ll try to get their picture without them seeing me.”

  We walk around the second floor, through the arcade and around the fountain. We stop in the bookstore and peek into the small café. So far we’ve spotted no one from class.

  “Wait,” Sara whispers loudly. “There’s Talia Daniels, six o’clock.”

  She’s right. Talia is about a hundred yards away from us walking into the office supply store. Perfect! “Okay,” I say to the girls. You guys stay here. I don’t want to call a lot of attention to myself. If she knows I’m here she won’t act normal. I’ll follow her in and see what I can get.”

  The girls agree, and I slip into the store. I walk down the computer supply aisle, past the keyboards and printers. I peek around the corner and see Talia pull down a ream of printer paper. I make sure my flash is off, as to not call attention to myself. The lighting in here is horrendously bright anyhow so I don’t really need it. I snap a few pics.

  Talia leaves that aisle and enters another, and I follow as close as I can without getting caught. She looks like she’s browsing, unsure of what’s she’s looking for. She abruptly stops, and I duck behind one of the floor model computer monitors. I peek out and see her looking around but she doesn’t spot me. She looks around one more time and then picks up a package of markers and heads for the cashier. I snap a few more pictures and watch her check out. She uses cash to pay for her items and leaves the store. Not the most thrilling stuff ever, but at least I got something on Talia. Considering this whole project was Talia’s idea, I’m kinda surprised she’s not even making half an attempt to be interesting so we have something to print on her.

  I pretend like I’m studying the highlighters to give Talia enough time to leave the store and think up ways for Chas to spin the story for these pics. He could always go the good humanitarian route and say Talia was making posters to help a friend find a lost pet. Or maybe she was making signs to ask for donations for a cause she supports. Like, buying bracelets made by Aborigine women. That might work. Oh, who am I kidding? They’re just markers.

  I head for the front of the store and look out the glass window, seeing Sara and Kelly talking to Denise Bengston. Wow, perfect. Maybe I actually will get something worthwhile tonight. I get as close as I can to the glass and zoom in on Denise. She looks happy. Very unusual for someone who is supposed to be devastatingly heartbroken. She points to her neck, and I zoom in closer. She’s wearing a necklace. Specifically, a heart necklace with a little stone in the middle. I gasp. And take a pic.

  ***

  It’s nine o’clock, and I’m feeling sorta loser-ish sitting at home with nothing to do on a Friday night. Dad’s not home still but even if he was he’d just hole himself up somewhere. Emma’s in bed already, and Mom’s grading papers in her office. She’s supposed to have a grad student help her with grading but she doesn’t trust anyone but herself to do it. Typical. I even offered to help her out but she just gave me that look. Mom’s always looking at me with that you-can’t-help-being-you look. No super powers to speak of. I didn’t read until kindergarten, didn’t walk before eighteen months. No, I was tragically average. But mom assures me that that’s okay. And I totally believe her. Ha.

  All my homework is done already and I’ve looked through the shots on my camera several times. I even jotted down some notes for possible story ideas to coincide with the pictures. Just in case Chas needs help again with the copy. I suppose I could always find a book and read. Or goof around on the Internet to entertain myself.

  I wonder how Tessa’s date with Mike is going. Something about what she’d said earlier is stuck in my head. The thing about the whole school getting to read the summation reports. I mean, I know we said in class that we would just share the summation reports on Friday. But what if someone put some of the stuff online? Like in a blog? Hmm.

  Before I think too much about it I find myself creating a new blog called Thompson Tattler. I use an anonymous e-mail and fake name to set up the account, just in case people from school actually do read it. I wouldn’t want anyone to ever know it’s me doing it. I’m not even sure why I’m doing it. This is so not like me. Maybe that’s why. I start uploading pics from the class reports, which is surprisingly easy to do. I only have the hard copy here but I can retake the photos if I hold my camera really close and steady. My parents won’t splurge for a printer with a scanner so this will have to do. I use a few of the same stories that the other tabloids did. But I change some around for fun too. Like this shot one of the other groups got of Madison and Garrett each pulling on one end of an iPhone. The tabloid in class had said Madison was programming her number into Garret’s phone. But I add a close-up of a text conversation between Garret and a fictional girl named “Laney” and make it look like they’re making plans to hook up later, and that Madison just found out and was trying to break Garret’s phone. Ha, it’s pretty funny. And convincing. If I use at least one picture from each of the eight tabloids, then no one will be able to figure out who created this blog. If anyone even finds and reads the blog, that is, which I kinda doubt. I add meta-tags so it comes up on Google and add a follower counter anyway. Just in case.

  Chapter 8

  I dodged Tessa for the rest of the weekend. She wanted to help me scope the town, looking for celebrities to take pictures of on Saturday, but I told her my mom made me take my little sister bowling. Which wasn’t totally true. I actually offered to take Emma bowling. For one, I felt a little guilty telling Chas that I was too busy doing stuff with my sister this weekend to hang out with him so I figured I should actually do something with her so that I wasn’t lying. To him, anyway. Two, it’s not my sister’s fault she’s some kind of musical genius and my parents fall all over themselves catering to her every desire and ignoring mine. It’s been like this since Emma was two, when she toddled over to my toy keyboard and replayed the commercial jingle off the TV note for note. They’ve been “encouraging her talent” ever since. Mom even warned me not to hurt Emma’s fingers before we left to bowl. Whatever. And three, there could have been celebs at the bowling alley so I took my camera just in case. But I got nada. Except for a crappy bowling score of forty-seven and the normal heeby-jeebies I always get from wearing the public bowling shoes. Seriously, a spritz of Lysol isn’t enough for hundreds of people’s stinky feet in the same pair of shoes.

  I checked the blog this morning before school and was surprised I had five followers and a few comments. I have no clue who any of these people are, but it’s kinda nice to have an audience. To know someone is interested in what I’m saying.

  I head for IPC class thinking I need to try harder to get some dirt on Denise. I know Tessa says she and Mike are doing fine again and their relationship is back on track, but I just know that there’s something up, between that picture one of the other groups got of Denise in front of Mike’s house and the photo I got of her on Friday night wearing the exact same necklace that Tessa got from Mike. It’s too weird. I bet Mike’s still messing around with Denise. He probably got those necklaces at a buy-one-get-one-free sale. Cheap-o.

  I just had an evil thought. I could take a picture of Tess wearing the necklace too and then we could put them side by side in the summation report, with a question headline like the real tabloids always run to stir up trouble: “Jewelry Sale, or Two-Timing Chump?”

  But no, that’s horrible. It would embarrass Denise, which is no skin off my nose considering what she’s does to Tessa, but it’d probably mortify Tessa. And I can’t do that. Though I really should tell Tessa about the necklace. But I’m just not sure how to go about it. Tessa is definitely the kill-the-messenger type. I don’t see hugs and thanks coming outta her for letting her know her boyfriend is a skeez. I think I need to get something mo
re solid on Denise and then show it to Tess.

  “There you are,” Tessa says, stopping me before I walk into class.

  I smile. “Hey.”

  “Why didn’t you call me yesterday?” she demands. “I know you were home. I saw your car.”

  And there lies the problem with having your best friend live next door to you. You can’t lie about not being home.

  “Migraine?” I offer more as a question than a statement.

  “Hmph.” Tessa frowns. “It feels like people are avoiding me. Mike didn’t answer my calls yesterday either.”

  My eyebrows shoot up but I don’t say anything. Was he with Denise? Dang, I should have had a stakeout outside his house yesterday. Ooh, why didn’t I think of that sooner? How fun would it have been to hide ducked down in my car wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses, drinking cup after cup of coffee during the long downtime of waiting for something to happen? Of course, he knows what my car looks like. But maybe I could borrow my mom’s. I’ll have to wait until Tessa mentions that she’s not doing something with Mike again. Then I’ll know he’s alone with opportunity to see Denise and…

  “Hello? Are you even listening to me? Gawd!” Tess stomps her foot on the ground in frustration.

  “Sorry, Tessa. I guess I have a ton of stuff on my mind. I do want to hear about it though. Can we talk later? I don’t want to be late for class.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” she says dramatically. “Awesome best friend you are, going to class while I’m in crisis, but you just do what you want.”

  “Great, I’ll catch up with you at lunch then.” I walk into class before she can say anything else. I had to cut her off. She’d just keep going and going if I didn’t walk away and if I skipped class every time she was in crisis, I might as well drop out of school.

  I take my seat and stare at Denise. What is she thinking? Is she wearing that necklace again today? I can’t tell. All that poof covers the back of her neck, so I can’t see if there’s a chain.

  “What are you staring at?” Chas asks, slipping into his seat next to me.

  “Hold on,” I say and also hold up a finger in his direction.

  “Wah-choo!” I yell in a super-dramatic fake sneeze. Denise turns to look at me, as does the rest of the class, and I can see her bare neck. A-ha! No necklace. What does this mean? Did she forget to wear it to school today, or is she secretly dating Mike behind Tessa’s back and doesn’t want anyone to know? Maybe they came to some sort of agreement and he said they could still see each other as long as Tessa never found out. So she can’t wear the necklace at school because, of course, Tess would recognize it, since he just gave her one too. The dirty dog.

  Then again, boys aren’t smart enough to think that far ahead, are they? No, if he did think ahead he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to give both girls the exact same present to begin with. This must be Denise’s work. She’s willing to cover up their relationship just to get whatever time she can with Mike. How desperate. I’ll never understand why girls find other girl’s boyfriends so attractive instead of going after someone who’s available. And we’re talking about Mike here. I suppose he looks all right, but he’s not exactly Mr. Personality. Aside from playing baseball, his only other real interest is playing fantasy football online. Both bore me to tears so we’ve never found any common interest to bond over or anything.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” Chas asks.

  “Sorry. I was just trying to figure something out,” I tell him.

  “Anything you want to share?”

  I give him a small smile. “Not just yet,” I say.

  “Today we’re going to talk about the things people convey just with their faces, without saying a word,” Ms B. begins, interrupting our conversation. She steps over to her laptop and types “tears” on the SMART board. “Okay, take ‘tears.’ If people are crying but also smiling, you’d probably guess something wonderful just happened to them. But if they’re crying with a pained expression, you’d expect something awful has occurred. What other facial signals can you think of that mean something?”

  Tommy Jackson raises his hand. “A scowl? Like, when I took a picture of Brittany this morning and she scowled at me. I don’t think she liked it.”

  A few students giggle.

  “Right,” Mrs. B. says. “What else?”

  Shelly Larson’s hand shoots up in the air. “Your face could go all white, like something really scared you.”

  “Good, good. Give me more.” Mrs. B. types quickly on her laptop.

  “What about a look?” Denise asks Mrs. B.

  Mrs. B. tilts her head, waiting for Denise to go on.

  “You know,” Denise says in a wistful voice. “Like the look a boy may give a girl that says he loves her without having to say the words.”

  Oh brother, is she kidding? She thinks Mike’s giving her looks of love? He was probably just thinking about what he was going to have for dinner.

  Several students snicker in the back, and Denise whips her head around and throws darts at them with her eyes.

  “How about the glare Denise is giving me right now?” Tommy asks, and everyone cracks up.

  “Okay, okay,” Mrs. B. says. “You’re all correct. It’s something to keep in mind while you’re taking your pictures this week, Paparazzi folk. What kind of stories do you see in the faces of the people you’re taking pictures of? Don’t just watch for what they’re doing. Try to figure out what they’re feeling too.”

  “Feelings,” I write down at the top of the page in my notebook. I lean over toward Chas. “This should be easy,” I whisper.

  He leans over toward me and whispers back, “You’d think.”

  Chapter 9

  “Not a single text!” Tessa yells in my face before I even fully step into the hallway. She’s clutching her phone in her hand.

  “Geez, Tess! You scared me,” I say. “Don’t jump out at me like that.” We step to the side of the classroom door to make way for the stream of students exiting into the hallway.

  “But he hasn’t texted me even once. No ‘I heart you,’ no ‘Morning, Luv,’ no ‘Kisses Bear Bear.’ Nothing,” Tessa says.

  I giggle. “Bear Bear? Mike calls you Bear Bear?”

  “Yeah, so?” Tessa returns quickly. “Get a boyfriend and see what he calls you.”

  “I think I’m definitely a Cuddle Bunny. Or a Snuggle Butt. Maybe even a Monkey Muffin Moo Moo, or a Toffee Tushy. Do you think I look like a Toffee Tushy?” I turn my rear end in her direction.

  “This is serious.” Tessa juts her phone in my face. “Look, nothing.”

  I don’t take the phone quick enough, and it falls on the ground. “Whoops.”

  “Oh no, my phone!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to let go,” I say.

  “Here, Tessa,” Joey Davis says, bending down and picking up Tessa’s phone. He looks at it and gently brushes it with his fingers. “I don’t think it’s broken or anything.” He hands her the phone and gives her the sweetest smile I’ve seen in a while. I yank out my camera, power it on as fast as I can, and snap a pic.

  Tessa throws me a glare then looks back at Joey and softens her expression. “Thanks Joey,” she says. There’s some kind of moment going on here between them. I kinda feel like I shouldn’t be here.

  He nods and slowly walks away, looking at Tessa over his shoulder as he leaves.

  I take another picture.

  “What are you doing?” Tess scolds me. “Stop it.”

  “Are you kidding? Did you not see the look on his face? He’s totally crushing on you.”

  “What? No he’s not. You’re seeing things.” Tessa frowns at me.

  “I don’t think so. It was written all over his face. Which is perfect for me, since Joey is a celebrity, and Mrs. B. said we should try to capture pictures of people feeling things through their facial expressions this week. I’d say he’s feeling you,” I add. Ooh, evil thought. Maybe I should upload this to the Thompson Tattler
, and then Mike might see it and realize that other guys are happy to take his place if he’s going to continue his schmucky ways.

  “Whatever,” Tessa says, shaking her head. “Get back to my current problem. Mike hasn’t called or texted me once today. He’s the one who’s supposed to be on probation, making things up to me, so why’s he doing this?”

  She waits, like I’m really going to have the answer to this. Well, I can pretty much guess why, but is she ready to hear it? “Do you think he’s up to something?” I ask cautiously.

  “No. What do you mean? What would he be up to?” she fires off.

  “Nothing, nothing,” I say quickly. “You just sound concerned.”

  “Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. He’s probably just busy with homework. Or something,” she says, trying to convince herself.

  “Yeah, sure.” I agree. “Listen, I can’t be late to Chemistry. It’s lab day. I’ll catch up with you later, okay? And I’m sure nothing is wrong,” I add, not believing my words for one second.

  Tessa nods. “Okay, see you.”

  A half an hour later, I’m sitting with my lab partner working on our lab. Well, she’s doing most of the work, and I’m just sitting here thinking. We’re supposed to be investigating the solubility of a chemical at different temperatures but right now all I want to investigate is the game Mike is playing with my best friend’s heart. I mean, who the heck does he think he is? He’s the one who messed up. He cheated on Tess, and now he needs to make things up to her to smooth over their relationship. But somehow he’s gotten things all switched around so that she’s the one chasing after him. How did he even manage that? What a sneak. And I don’t think it’s necessarily that he wants to break up with Tessa and be with Denise because, hello, he could have done that at any time. Why go through the trouble of getting Tessa to give him another chance if he just wanted to be with Denise? No, it’s more like he wants to manipulate both girls and their feelings. He’s like one of those dog trainers who gets all of the dogs to jump through the hula hoop by giving a command. He’s got Tessa and Denise both jumping.