by Anya Breton
I heard a slight chuckle. “Good words.”
He was quiet while I took two more photos, walked around the building and began looking for a way inside. But the conversation took on an accusatory vein when he spoke again. “Do you have a hatred for the human race or only for me?”
I turned to face him in surprise and was immediately enthralled by those eyes. “What makes you think I hate anyone?”
His unremarkable lips lowered into a frown. “I’ve been trying to start up a conversation for ten minutes but you won’t budge.”
My eyebrows arched at him for the unexpected comment. “So because I’m not a motor mouth that means I hate humankind?”
“Usually girls won’t shut up.”
I didn’t know why but I was beginning to feel offended by his comments. It had me retorting, “Maybe you hang out with different girls.”
“Or maybe you’re the different one,” he rapidly countered.
“Thanks,” I answered vaguely as I glanced down at my watch. After another quick shot of a dumpster between weeds as tall as trees, I started back for school.
“Aeon.”
Without fully turning or stopping, I glanced over my shoulder at him. The camera was once again to his eye. The familiar clunking sound meant he’d snapped another shot of me.
My eyes narrowed enough that I knew there’d be a score of wrinkles around them. He’d obviously laid in wait for that expression too because the clunking of the shutter echoed in the parking lot again.
My pace increased two-fold to get away from this guy who took photographs of me but he hurried to catch me. “That’s a cool name by the way. It’s Latin for ‘time eternal’ right?”
His question forced me to slow and look at him again. He was the first person who had ever known what my name meant. Most people asked me about the movie with Charlize Theron.
“Yes,” I admitted.
I decided that the new kid probably read a lot. Maybe his looks weren’t all that he had.
He seemed to smirk at me with a condescending twist of his lips. “I take it most people have no clue what your name means?”
Reluctantly I nodded for him. “They assume its from that cartoon and movie.”
“What cartoon and movie?”
My eyebrow lifted because most people knew about at least one of those. “The one with Charlize Theron?”
Apparently he wasn’t one of them for his head cocked to the left before he asked, “Who is Charlize Theron?”
Without thinking I blurted out, “Have you been living under a rock for the last ten years?”
Now I was the one offending for his tone soured. “No, I just don’t particularly like movies.”
I shook my head in disbelief and started moving again. “There was a stylized cartoon on MTV back in the early nineties called Aeon Flux. They did a live-action remake of it a few years ago.”
“Was she as mute as you?”
“Yes, actually.”
He chuckled rather than becoming further offended. “Well, mute girl, I didn’t get your full name.”
“Mute girl works for me.”
I was apparently quite amusing because he laughed again. “Aeon mute girl? Okay. I’m Alex Chattan and I’m the new guy in town. Pay no attention to the weirdo stalking me with a camera.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “Oh wait, I see you have one too.”
“Seems an epidemic,” I drawled while hiding a smile.
“You have a dry sense of humor,” he stated it as a fact. But I didn’t think he could have gathered it this quickly.
“Most think I’m rude and not humorous at all,” I said with a lift of nervousness because his comment had sounded like a compliment rather than a complaint.
“They don’t appreciate art when they hear it.”
That drew a chuckle from me but I could think of nothing to say in response that wouldn’t start a more personal conversation about my interests. Conversations with strangers were something I liked to avoid.
He made a noise of annoyance when I didn’t follow-up but we entered the photography studio before he could comment.
I gestured to the sink of drying metallic objects as I crossed the room toward my usual seat and rewound the film in my camera. “Grab a tank, a reel, a cover, and a pair of scissors. I’ll show you to the boxes.”
He remained quiet while we wound our film onto the reels in our separate light-free tiny rooms within the bigger darkroom. The lack of conversation continued as I showed him where all of the chemicals, timers, and sinks were for the developing process. I’d begun to think he was embarrassed to talk to me in front of others when he remained mum during the first minute-long water soak. But after we’d figured out the developing time for the film he’d grabbed out of the communal tin and set the timers for our respective tanks, he turned to me and gave a wolfish smile.
“You like this photography stuff.”
“Yes.” I dropped my gaze down to the metal tank to avoid his odd expression. It seemed there was more than his good looks and the fact that he was out of my league that made me uneasy around him. There was something not quite normal about Alex Chattan but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“I guess it makes sense.” He continued and gestured to where Mrs. Lozano was repeating the lecture about f-stops to the twins for the third time. “She probably wouldn’t ask someone who hated it to help her out.” After a short pause he asked, “Does that mean you’re the teacher’s pet?”
My lips formed a frown. “I didn’t think so.”
“There are worst things than teacher’s pet.”
Yeah, like a freak with a cameraman following her.
I grabbed my tank as soon as the timer hand neared the zero and switched it off a moment before it would have buzzed. Below cold water I doused it to stop the developing process then poured out the water. By the time I was finished repeating it, Alex was ready for his turn at the water. I measured out enough fixer for the next step, poured the chemical in the tank and shook vigorously for ten seconds as I set the timer for five minutes.
“So what other classes do we have together besides history, lunch and this one?”
I was surprised he’d noticed I was in those classes with him. I supposed a girl with a camera following her was hard to miss.
I peered at him from beneath my eyelashes. “Are you asking me my schedule?”
“I guess...” his voice trailed off without finishing.
“After this I have drawing and painting then P.E.”
“So if I have physical education during period eight, does that mean I have it with you?”
Four classes total with the new kid was quite remarkable. I didn’t have more than two classes with anyone else, cameras not withstanding. “Yeah,” was my uneasy reply.
“Tyler says he has physical education then too,” the new kid said.
I’d nearly forgotten Tyler O’Connell, the football star and heartthrob of Junction Hill High, was in my gym class. “Three of us in one class? That kind of sucks.” My voice lowered in volume to a whisper. “Dodge ball ought to be fun. I wonder how many times I can get a camera guy hit.”
Alex’s mouth spread wide, revealing straight white teeth. “Oooh, dry wit and an evil streak. I think we could become good friends, mute girl.”
My cheeks went pick. I quickly turned away to hide it from him, using the vigorous shaking of my film tank as an excuse to avoid looking at the cute expression on his handsome face.
The last timer went off. I poured out the fixer and pulled off the cover. A quick glance at the negatives on the outer edge showed that the film had developed without any problems. I shoved the tank beneath running water then stepped aside to wait on the new kid.
“I’ll show you where everything is in the dark room once you’re finished but I don’t think we have time to make any prints today,” I told him.
He nodded then duplicated the steps I’d taken. Moments later we were standing in the red light of the dark room and
I was gesturing to large machines around the room, the trays of chemicals that were already laid out beside the plastic bottles that held the required solutions.
“You need to bring your own photo paper. The photography store at the mall is the only place in town that sells it. There are four enlargers. I think they’re pretty standard but if you have questions about them ask Mrs. Lozano…or I guess me if I’m around.” My cheeks reddened again but I hoped he wouldn’t see it in the already red light.
I gestured to the manila folder taped to the wall near the door. “Brushes, dodge and burn tools are over here. We go from right to left in the trays.” My hand waved over the table with the trays at the center of the room. Next I pointed to the huge jugs of liquid. “If one of the solutions is really dirty you can replace it from here but usually they never get that bad.” The bell rang in the middle of my final word. “Well, have a good one.”
I rushed back out into the lit area so I could hang up my film to dry. Alex followed me and did the same.
“I’ll see you at P.E.,” he called on his way out.
It was then that I realized my pale skin would be a beacon outside on a day like today. Briefly I was embarrassed that I had never been out to tan.
But what did it matter if I were pale? It wasn’t as if someone like Alex Chattan would ever be interested in me. I wasn’t sure I’d want him to be. Besides, if I had to have tan skin to interest a guy then he wasn’t worth my time to begin with. Honest.
* * * *
“Still life with camera,” the drawing teacher announced with a chuckle as the entourage known as “mute girl” entered the studio next door. “I guess you’re permanently exempt from posing for figure study.”
“Woo,” I cheered playfully. “I’d much rather be drawing than posing anyway.”
“I know, dear,” Ms. Finch patted me on the shoulder as I passed by her desk.
The quiet of still life drawing and peers that respected me meant I got to relax after the frustrating day of glares and insults. I was in the zone. Drawing was one of the only things that made me happy and put me into a Zen-like state. But I knew it would last only until the bell rang.
No one respected me in physical education class. They had good reason. I stunk at every sport man had created and most physical activities as well. In fact if I sat and thought about it hard enough I couldn’t come up with a single thing I excelled at in that class.
Sluggishly I put my art supplies away, set my still life drawing on the rack and then forced myself out the door to the locker room. The fact that the cameraman wasn’t allowed into the girl’s locker room gave me five minutes of glorious respite from the documentary.
By the time I’d stepped onto the field to join the flag football game the groups had been picked. I was sent to join the team without the red mesh shirts. That worked for me. The idea of them being worn by other sweaty students before me gave me the willies.
On the other end of the field I could see the two cameras floating behind Tyler and a red-shirted Alex. He was in the process of dodging Tyler’s swipe for his flags as he ran toward the goal with the ball in hand. I watched in awe at his quick sprints, turns, and fake-outs. Not only was he handsome and book smart, he could also play sports.
“Hey, mute girl,” Alex called on his way down the field in pursuit of Tyler and the football.
It was the extent of what he said to me all period. I was content with that because the small greeting had generated strange looks from my classmates. Seconds after the final whistle was blown I was at the locker room door.
Ten minutes later I was glad to be walking home after the long day but knew it wasn’t over yet. A paper was due this and every Friday in A.P. History.
Ordinarily I’d have used the computer at the Henderson’s to do my research while babysitting Jeffery. But since Mrs. Henderson was wary of her son being filmed, she’d told me I couldn’t sit anymore. It wasn’t a big chunk of money that I’d be without but it would hurt my spending money fund, what little of it there was. It also hurt that I now had to use public property to do my work.
I took a different route downtown to the library and hid my smile when the cameraman was hassled at the door. Ultimately he was asked to wait outside. I did the wise thing and tried to argue on his behalf.
The head librarian listened impatiently to my explanation that he was part of the documentary that was filming in town. I didn’t know if she thought I was lying or if she didn’t care. She shook her head sternly and continued to refuse him entrance while he still had the camera. After a shrug directed at the glass door where he stood filming still, I headed back to the reference books and computer terminals.
Two hours later when the sun had begun setting I walked out of the library with my printed paper and was joined by my personal videographer.
“Sorry,” I told him in a whisper as if I wasn’t supposed to talk to him. “I tried to explain but she didn’t care.”
“Thanks,” the man answered in an average sounding baritone voice.
“It’s going to be a weekly problem. I have a paper due every Friday in history class. Maybe you guys should pick another girl.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I frowned but didn’t argue. If I was worried about anything it was that they wouldn’t pick another girl.
The little apartment my mother and I claimed was dark when I unlocked the door and waved goodbye to the camera guy. Monday also meant my mom was cutting hair until closing time. She’d arrive shortly before ten in a state of exhaustion and probably get a handful of words out before she crashed on the bed.
Cognizant of the cameras stationed around the place, I considered what to do with my time. Monday was one of the few days I didn’t have to work but I was too tired after the library visit to do anything productive.
I decided to flop into the sofa and zone out to escapist television. A Betty Grable musical on the old movies channel was what I selected. During one of the elaborate dance numbers I fell asleep, drool crusting my mouth every bit as much as this morning.
CHAPTER THREE
My fingers delicately slid the photo paper into the tray with the developer solution in it. Within seconds an image appeared from nothing. I smiled. It was almost like playing god.
I glanced at the tray beside. It was holding a print from the person who had been in before me. What looked an awful lot like my face stared out of the glistening reddish water. I glanced around the dark room for the person responsible but found myself alone. Everyone else was out shooting rolls of film for their projects because it was a nice day.
As soon as my print was finished developing I dropped my photo on top of the other one to blot it out. It floated to the surface once again after I moved my sheet to the next tray. Into the light I returned to check my negatives for other potential prints while waiting for the photo to finish rinsing.
A few students were developing film near the sink and quieted their conversation when the cameraman and I neared. Conscious of the audience, I dropped my negatives onto the light table and looked at them through the magnifying lens one by one.
After selecting the next shot I left the videographer in the studio once again to return to the safety of the darkroom. The photo of my face had disappeared. I decided that’d I’d been mistaken. It was probably of someone else.
“Hey, mute girl,” Alex greeted from one of the enlargers. “I didn’t see you at lunch today.”
“I ate outside.” I’d been avoiding Ashley because she’d been in a particularly foul mood.
“Lunch alfresco. Nice. I’ll have to try it.” He set the timer, the light flipped on and then he turned to face me. “I was going to invade your table but dining outside is a much better idea.”
The thought of Alex Chattan sitting with my friends was absurd. We weren’t the bottom of the social totem pole but we were pretty damn close. I was sure someone would explain who was who to the new kid soon enough and then he’d be sorry he’d ever associ
ated with me.
I put my negative in the enlarger’s lens and checked the positioning in the light without my photo paper. “Why would you want to sit with a bunch of gossiping girls anyway?”
He slid by me to put his print in the developing tray within the wide sink behind me. “You gossip?”
“I don’t but my friends do,” I quickly replied almost defensively without understanding why I’d be defensive to a guy I didn’t know.
“Most girls do,” he commented in a light tone. “I learned to tune it out.”
While carefully placing the photo paper on the enlarger’s darkened surface I spoke without thinking, “That’s a handy talent. Could you teach me it?”
“I think having a younger sister helped train me in the skill. You don’t have a younger sister, do you?”
“No.”
“Only child, right?”
My answer was a hesitant, “Yeah.”
In my peripheral vision I saw him nod his head. “I can tell.”
I flipped the timer to seven seconds, hit the enlarger’s button and turned around to face him. “How?”
Even in the dark I could see his smile. “You can’t be a true introvert if you have siblings.”
“So I’m a true introvert?”
His head cocked to the right slightly but his hands were busy moving his print down the line of trays. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Didn’t you just?”
He chuckled softly. “You presumed.”
“Right,” I drawled sarcastically while sliding in beside him to put my print in the developing solution.
Alex said nothing as he peered down at the rapidly appearing image in the liquid. Once the scene was clear he spoke. “Your photos really capture the decrepit theme yet still have a flowing linear feel to them.”
He was an art critic too? Was there anything he couldn’t do well?
I glanced at his photo and saw that he’d printed an image similar to the one I’d done at the start of class. It was a shot of the abandoned asylum. His had a darker feel and was taken at an odd angle as if it were from the point of view of a predator or serial killer who looked at the world in a skewed manner.
