"Not a clue, but I can tell you're excited."
I am, and I have to say, it feels good. So much of my life is spent dreading what’s waiting for me around the next corner that I rarely stop to enjoy myself.
Cameron leads me into class and we take our seats as Turner writes a solitary word on the chalkboard: Light.
Phantom needles prick my fingers. I flex them against the edge of the desk, hoping no one is paying attention to me. Despite my good mood, all day I've been acutely aware of every glance, every look, every whisper that seems directed my way. How closely are they watching?
I shake my head and force myself to focus.
Turner's pacing at the front of the classroom, waiting until he has our full attention. "We have a broad range of personalities in this class and I try to tailor assignments so everyone has at least one project they can get excited about. We've covered sports, real life," he nods at me, "which, to mix metaphors, Biz hit out of the park, and now we're focusing on contrasting light and dark. The subject matter is completely up to you. Your assignment is to capture the contrast, preferably in a way that highlights your subject in a manner you wouldn't notice if the lighting were consistent."
My mind is already racing through possible settings for bright light and deep shadows. If I were a masochist I'd head to the Strand and shoot the trees, but I don't want to risk another migraine this week.
Turner readies his chalk. "What places have drastic contrasts between light and shadow?"
Answers pepper from throughout the room.
"The river."
"Downtown."
"My backyard."
Everyone laughs.
"The park," I say, the scene already playing out in my mind.
Turner nods. "There's opportunity for light and shadow just about any place you go, provided there’s something tall enough to cast a shadow."
Tell me about it.
*****
Dad's waiting for me on the couch when I get home.
I sit next to him but don't say anything.
He stretches his arms in front of him, bending his wrists back until the tendons strain against his pale flesh. "How are you feeling?"
I shrug. "My headache's gone."
"And that's all that was bothering you? The headache?"
I give him a sidelong glance, trying to play it cool. He's just being a concerned father, nothing more. "Yeah, pretty much. Why?"
He folds his hands behind his neck, a gesture I've rarely seen him do. It somehow makes him look younger, stronger than I'm used to seeing him. "I've noticed you flex your fingers a lot."
As a reflex my fingers start to ache, the muscles suddenly tense, the skin feeling too tight. I long to stretch them but he's watching me closely.
"Go ahead." He smiles, but not in a ha-ha-I-gotcha kind of way. No, this smile is wistful, almost sad.
I relieve the pressure in my knuckles first, popping first the left hand, then the right, then I fold them backwards in front of me, much the same way he just did. I jerk to face him, but his gaze has shifted to my feet.
"Do your toes do the same thing?"
I nod once, hoping the lack of enthusiasm speaks for how much this is not a big deal. I'm trying not to panic, but it's like he's one step ahead of me. Snippets of my conversation with Cameron run through my head, him saying that sometimes I seem to already know what he's going to say. But this is different. This is Dad.
"Always with the headaches?"
"Pretty much." I swallow hard. "How… how do you know this?" I know for a fact I've never mentioned the tingling to anyone. Maybe he really did notice like he said, but I've always been so careful.
He leans his head to one side until his neck pops. Mine longs to do the same. "Just something I've noticed."
Later in my room, I replay our conversation. He can't know the truth, there's no way, but I guess it's possible I wasn't as careful as I thought. He does spend a lot of time with me. Maybe I mess with my fingers when I'm sleeping. That's the only way this makes any sense. The only comfort I have is in his final words: that he hasn't said anything to Mom.
Chapter 30
Midway through my English class a scrawny ninth grader knocks on the door and hands the teacher a note. She looks up from her lesson plan, scans the slip of paper, and narrows her gaze at me.
Crap.
"Biz, Mr. Walker would like to see you in his office."
The class oohs and ahhs and a deep flush colors my face. I start walking towards the door when she stops me.
"I'd bring your things."
Laughter follows me out the door. I take solace in the quiet hall, but it's quickly erased by the ninth grader's sneakers squeaking ahead of me.
"What the hell did I do?" I mutter.
The kid looks over his shoulder. "They don't tell me. I'm just told what class—"
I roll my eyes. "I wasn't asking you."
He quickens his pace, hustling around the corner several yards ahead of me.
I'm tempted to keep going straight and walk out the side entrance, but considering Stride Right summoned me to his chambers, skipping now wouldn't be my smartest move. I pause in front of the classroom at the corner.
Cameron's in there.
He's concentrating on whatever he's writing, his dark head bent over the desk. I send him a silent good luck and continue towards the principal's office.
The secretary is standing at attention. "Go on in, he's waiting for you."
I falter in the doorway.
Stride Right looks up. "Please close the door and take a seat."
Oh, this can't be good.
A manila folder lies open on his desk. My permanent record? I stifle a laugh. We've always joked about whether those really exist.
He studies the papers a moment longer, then places his glasses on top of them and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid this isn't a courtesy call." I tense, hands gripping the edge of the chair. "It's been brought to my attention that your recent tests have been… questionable."
My breath catches.
"Specifically, in Mr. Bishop's class." He shuffles the papers. "If you were just failing I'd suggest you get a tutor and send you on your way, but your scores are all over the place. That, combined with a note I received this morning that states you've been cheating, leads me to believe we've got a bigger problem on our hands."
Shit, shit, double shit. I don't move. I don't breathe. Fidgeting is a sign of lying, right? Maybe if I stay completely still he'll take it all back and I can get back to class in time to hear the rest of the lecture on dangling participles.
Stride Right's still staring at me. I don't think he's gonna take it back. "Do you have anything to say?" His watery eyes bore into mine.
I don't know where to look. I'm assuming the papers on his desk are my trig tests. How bad could it really be? "Would you believe me if I said I'm just really bad at trig?"
He flattens his palms on the sides of his desk. "I would if that's what these scores demonstrated. You were consistent the first month of the semester, but then your scores jumped from barely passing to almost an A. I'd love to give credit to Bishop for being an exceptional teacher, but I think you've had more help than that. Now," he cracks his knuckles and I have to resist the urge to follow suit. "If you tell me the truth you won't get suspended—"
"Suspended!"
"—but if you continue with the excuse that you're just lazy—"
"I never said I was lazy."
He gives me a stern look and I close my mouth. "Unless you tell me how you've been cheating, I'll have no choice but to suspend you for three days. We don't tolerate cheating in my school."
"You seem to have already made up your mind. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
He waves his hand over the papers. "I have all the proof I need."
I stand. "Well then, there you go." I storm out before he says another word, leaving him and the secretary calling after me. I stalk down the hall and stop in
front of Cameron's class. I'm not sure if they'll make me leave right now or at the end of the day, but I need to find out if he's the one who sold me out.
By the time the bell rings I've thought of a zillion nasty things to say, but settle on something a little less accusatory.
The smile falls from Cameron's face when he sees my scowl.
I fall in step alongside him. "Did you tell Stride Right about…" I wave my hand in front of me, not wanting to say it in the crowded hallway.
His mouth drops. "What? No. Why would I tell him?" His eyes widen and he grabs my hand. "What happened?"
I spew out the story, glancing over my shoulder in case Stride Right is lurking, ready to toss me out the front door. "I didn't really think it was you, but I can't think who else would want to bust me."
As if on cue, Double J and a couple other guys run by, elbowing kids out of their way.
My eyes narrow. "That little prick."
"Who?"
"Robbie."
My ex trails the other guys, laughing at some joke only they seem to get.
"Robbie!" I shout without thinking.
He glances over his shoulder but doesn't stop. Several heads turn to look at me.
Cameron tugs on my hand but I pull away.
"Robbie, you prick!"
Now he stops. He turns on me, fists balled at his side. "What the hell do you want?" Anger burns in his eyes and he rocks back and forth, eager for a confrontation.
I don't know why I didn't think of him right away. I'm sure there are other people who don't like me for one reason or another, but he's the only one who's into petty revenge. Rage bubbles in my chest at the sneer spread over his face. "You know what I want. What the hell'd you say to Stride Right?"
By now kids have circled around us. Cameron hovers near the edge, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I'm ninety-nine percent certain Robbie wouldn't hit me, but it's nice to have someone in my corner just in case.
"What? Did you get in trouble or something?" He laughs over his shoulder at Double J and Kirk, but they don't smile. He scoffs, rolls his eyes at me. "Whatever. You deserve it."
"I can't believe you're such a baby. Get over yourself!" My nerve endings are humming. Every inch of my body longs to lash out at him, but I've already been suspended. I take a step towards him and the crowd oohs.
Robbie straightens so he can look down his nose at me. A sense of déjà vu—real déjà vu—sweeps over me: that's the same look he used to give me when we were about to kiss. How did I not see how mean he looks? "I need to get over myself? Who's the one—"
"Hey!" A deep voice booms from down the hall.
Bodies scatter, leaving me and Robbie fuming at each other. Cameron lingers just behind me, but the rest of our friends are gone.
"What's going on here?" Stride Right rushes towards us, arms swinging at his sides.
Robbie gestures at me. "She's pissed she got in trouble and now she's—"
"Didn't take her long to figure it out." Stride Right smiles and I nearly fall over in shock. I can't believe he outed Robbie.
Robbie's mouth drops. "You aren't supposed to tell!"
Stride Right shrugs. "You must have been the obvious suspect if she already knows. Maybe you should have considered that."
It doesn't change the fact that I'm suspended, but having Robbie called out for being a douche makes this day a teensy bit better.
Stride Right faces me.
Maybe I spoke too soon.
"You left before I could tell you that you still need to finish your classes today. Get your homework before you leave and one of your friends can bring you any other assignments." I swear a smile crosses his face. "And no more causing scenes in the middle of the hallway."
"Yessir." I give him a salute before grabbing Cameron's hand and rushing down the hall, leaving Robbie standing alone.
Chapter 31
The house is empty when I get home. There's no note on the kitchen counter and as far as I can remember, Dad didn't have an appointment. A murmur of worry darkens my already-foul mood, but they would have called my cell if something was wrong.
I head upstairs to my room, but stop halfway. As soon as they find out I'm suspended I'll be grounded for at least a week. This is my last chance to do anything.
I text Cameron. "Parents not home yet. Can you hang out?"
A minute later I'm in my car on my way to meet him at the park, my camera nestled in the passenger seat. No one needs to tell me that this is the best time of day for long exaggerated shadows. I may as well make the most of my last hours of freedom.
Cameron's leaning on the hood of Old Berta, his arms folded lightly over his chest, the same blanket tucked beneath one arm. I park next to him and ease out of the car, casually slinging my bag over my shoulder, when what I really want to do is launch over the car and tackle him.
"Lucky they weren't home yet."
A twinge of guilt doesn't let me feel very lucky. "Yeah."
He reaches his hand out to mine, and we follow a winding sidewalk to the center of the park. Once he spreads out the blanket, he sets my bag on the ground, pulls me into his arms, and gently kisses me on the lips.
Well, hello.
I'm acutely aware of every other person in the park, but this kiss is totally G-rated. His lips part and his breath warms my lips. Okay, maybe PG.
Can I get a PG-13?
Cameron lingers a moment longer before pulling back and smiling down at me. "We don't want to scare the kids."
I wave a hand at the impressionable children. "Yeah, yeah."
He snorts. "They'll go home soon enough."
As if I'm supposed to concentrate on photography now.
An hour later I've got three dozen shots of a shadow creeping its way over a wooden bench. I like the way the light bathes the bench in warmth, while the absence of light leaves the plank of wood cold, stark. When the shadow fully engulfs the bench I lower my camera and glance at Cameron.
He's focused on the tree line at the edge of the park. The tallest tree here—the one we're sitting beneath—casts a spindly shadow that stretches like it's trying to grab something in the darkness. Click-click-click.
I hadn't noticed that perspective earlier and now I'm plotting to come back another evening so I can see what he does. Copying him now would seem, I don't know, unauthentic, but maybe if I come at a different time of day I could use the shots and still have it be different from his. The trees overlap, forming a canopy that shields whatever lurks inside, and if I could capture that—
Cameron's hand on my neck startles me. "How's it going?" He's moved closer, his leg just inches from mine.
"Good, but I think I want to come back at a different time of day to see the change in perspective."
He winces. "One benefit to being suspended, right?"
"Yeah, assuming I can convince my dad to let me outta the house. This might be the last time you see me for a couple days."
He trails his fingers along the edge of my jaw and down my throat, stopping at my collar bone. "We better make good use of this time then." His lips replace his fingers and my breath catches in my throat.
I peek over his lowered head to see if anyone's watching, but most of the families have already left. Good thing too, because his lips are moving up my neck and now his warm mouth is covering mine. My pulse quickens, launching a thousand butterflies loose in my stomach. I fall back onto the blanket.
Cameron stretches out alongside me and props himself on one elbow. His eyes shimmer in the waning light. "I've missed you," he whispers, before kissing me again.
My fingers curl into the hair at the back of his neck. It seems like I've thought of nothing but this for the past week, but now that we're finally kissing, his strong body pressed close to mine, I can't stop thinking about the few people still in the park.
"Cam?" I mumble, but my words are lost. I pull back a fraction of an inch. "Cam? Do you think we could go someplace else? I feel like we're on display here."
He lifts his head and two girls sitting on the bench I was photographing giggle. "Good point." He rolls off of me and runs his hand through his hair. "Where should we go?"
I sit up next to him. My place is off-limits, and I'm guessing his is too. "Surprise me."
Once I'm seat-belted into the car I realize the downside to this plan. I reach across the gearshift and brush the back of my hand against Cameron's thigh. "You're too far away."
A mischievous smile lights up his face. "Not for long." He covers my hand with his own but removes it just as quickly to shift gears.
"I was getting worried we'd end up on YouTube if we stayed there much longer."
"I wasn't thinking about other people. To be honest, I'm still not."
Okay, we need to hurry up and get to wherever it is we're going. Speaking of which. "So where are we going?"
"I thought you had a plan."
I snort. "Me? A plan?"
"Yeah, it was a long shot." Even his smile is driving me crazy.
"I have to be home in another hour, so wherever we go can't be too far from my house."
He hits the blinker and slows to turn. "Deal."
Ten minutes later we park in front of the elementary school.
I raise an eyebrow. After the adventure at the zoo on our first date, I'm determined not to question him, but when he leads me past the building towards the playground, I can't resist. "Got a sudden urge to play on the monkey bars?" He elbows me and I giggle. Two seconds at our old school and he's already reverted to pulling my pigtails.
He grabs my hand. "Come on." We walk along the perimeter of the playground, past a row of tall lights, and stop in front of the swings. He sits in one, then loops an arm around my waist and pulls me into his lap.
This could be interesting.
He scootches further back to make room. "Ready?"
I grip the chains, nervous energy making me sit upright. "Okay."
He leans back and I squeal. After a couple leg pumps we're flying through the air.
A giggle escapes me. "I'm sorry for doubting you."
The cool air blows my hair all around, caressing my face and trailing over his fingers. The looming darkness pulls us higher and I'm overwhelmed with the sensation of Cameron's body beneath me. His closeness makes me feel safe, even as our heads rise as high as the top of the swing-set. I slide my hands over his and lean my head back. My eyes drift shut and I give myself over to the moment.
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