How I Fall

by Anne Eliot

  “Ah. That explains why I’ve never seen you around town or at any school events.” He stretches his arms above his head. “Well, we’ll have to figure out a way to get you to come watch. With Laura being the school’s latest tiger mascot, maybe you’ll be inspired. They’re fun.”

  “They are?” I meet his gaze full on.

  He looks up at the ceiling like he has to think about it. “Fun for the audience. Lots of yelling and snacks.”

  “Sorry, but even with deluxe nachos, watching Canadian kids play football in Canada against other Canadians seems as crazy as that Olympic Jamaican bobsled team. There just has to be better things to do with my time.”

  He laughs. “Hey. We’re a states border town, so of course we’re going to be into football from the USA—and everyone knows my dad gets the team all hyped up.”

  “Yeah, I would guess he does. Does he really wear one of those fancy football rings?”

  He laughs. “Every second. I’m sure we’ll have to bury him in it when he dies. What does Patrick say about football?”

  “Patrick says what you say. Sitting in the stands is more fun than being yelled at by the coaches, and that I should come watch the crazy at least once.”

  “Well…there you go.” The pink creeps up his cheeks again which makes me wonder if this guy’s possibly shy? Maybe he’s just uncomfortable because he’s never really spoken to anyone outside his popular-bubble before. That has to be it.

  “Well…maybe. And thanks for the jacket loan. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”

  “Keep it. As long as you want.”

  I bite back a smile, and resist asking if keeping the jacket forever would be too long?

  “There’s candy in the pockets if you need a snack.”

  “Really? Candy?” I blink, trying to sound all surprised.

  He grins. “Caramels actually. You already knew?”

  I nod. “But I didn’t eat any—yet. I swear.”

  “Yet!” He laughs. “See how you are? Please. Keep all of them. I’m addicted and my mom supports my habit so I can get more at home.”

  He seems so much more relaxed now, and his smile has gone all the way to his eyes. Behind his eyes. Warms up his eyes. Those eyes that have been acting like a kaleidoscope of taunting, teasing grays and blues every time he moves his head. Eyes that now look like soft kitten fur! I almost groan from staring at this latest color. One I want to record and catalogue along with all the others.

  I shake my head, trying to clear it.

  “What? What are you thinking? Tell me.” His voice is completely vulnerable and warm and somehow hopeful. His low, rumbling request has just painted goose bumps all over my spine.

  “Come on,” he encourages, his quiet voice catching into a whisper. “Tell me one thing.”

  *Ellen, with only two remaining brain cells, strings a few test phrases together: Eyes. I want pictures. Caramel candy is good. You’re like this kitten I saw on Tumblr. Let’s eat all your candy. Do you feel funny because I feel funny.*

  Nope. I’ve got nothing. Because I know he’s waiting for an answer, I shrug and shake my head and mutter, “There’s no point.” My heart twists when I register the disappointment in his expression, but what does this guy expect from me? I have just died again. Since this morning, I have died countless times. All thanks to those eyes and that low voice and that small smile, this boy has become my personal—heart murdering—serial killer. Quite honestly, I’m getting exhausted from it. I decide all things will reverse and go back to normal just as soon as I can get home. Like Alice. I’ll be found taking a nap with a book on my lap and everything that’s gone upside down and crazy in my life will revert to where it’s supposed to be.

  Where it’s always been.

  I order the butterflies in my stomach to stop while I open up some photos to edit on my monitor. In case he thinks he’s going to start chatting to me randomly and being all nice again, I make a point to pull out my huge, noise-canceling headphones and shove them on my head before plugging them into the base of my iPhone.

  Once into Photoshop, I try to focus on editing the tree branch photo in front of me, but the whole time I can see him out of the corner of my eye. I think he’s looking at my monitor and studying my photos, like he’s waiting for me to talk to him even more! My heart starts racing faster and faster. I flick him a quick glare and angle my monitor away from his view. This at least forces him to open his own files on his machine. I stare him down until it seems he’s starting edits on one of his silly little football shots.

  I breathe in one long, slow, hopefully extra quiet and heart-calming breath because I think this whole time I might have been hyperventilating.

  Laura crashes back into her seat and I’m momentarily blinded by her tiger stripes and flying glitter. Without asking, she pulls off my headphones. “All signed in!” She glances between us like she wants someone to give her an award.

  I shake my head and smile. She looks so darn happy and funny it’s impossible to do anything but smile back at her. Cam and I watch as she unsuccessfully searches for the button to turn on her computer. “How,” she mutters, reaching around the monitor. “And what…and where does this thing have its itty-bitty button? Is it on the Apple, then?” She shoves a thumb into the mirrored Macintosh logo on the center of the monitor, which of course doesn’t budge.

  I reach out to help, but Cam’s gone for the power button as well. Our fingers tangle and now he and I are awkwardly almost holding hands!

  “It’s so beaut—this computer! I’ve never used one of these titanium ones. So pretty and sophisticated. All of it so shiny it almost sparkles.” Laura flutters her eyes. “Just like me, yeah?”

  Cam laughs and so do I.

  “So…guess what?” She grins and her eyes somehow get two sizes bigger.

  “What?” I ask, hoping she never loses her accent while she’s here because that would be a tragedy.

  “It’s news. Involving both of you. And me!”

  “Tell us.” Cam crosses his arms over his chest and leans his chair back into a rocking position again. It’s taking all my will power to not stare at the amazing football-player thighs again.

  Laura whispers, “I’ve convinced your Miss Brown there, that I need some remedial photography help. And she’s told me that you, Thumbelina, and you, Mr. Un-sackable Quarterback, are the two best in this class! The two with top marks so she’s assigned both of you to assist me!”

  I eye Cam and think of the 400 footballs and goal posts shots he’s taken since this class started, wondering how it’s possible he and I could have the same grade. “You must have misunderstood. There’s no way…”

  She beams wider. “But it’s true! Ask me, how lucky does that make me that I’m sitting here? Already at this table, no less, with your talented lot? Go on, then? Ask me.”

  “How lucky does that make you, Ireland?” Cam’s humoring her in that low, full-of-laughter, bring-on-the-goose bumps voice.

  I’m working so hard to keep the flutters behind my ribcage in check that I almost miss the rest of what Laura’s saying. “She’s also assigned me to work on the upcoming special project with both of you! That’s what. The three of us are locked in as partners! And this is even before the rest of the class knows about the project!” She beams. “What did I tell you two back on that bus? It’s fate. See? Fate and destiny! We shall be friends forever now. How could we not be?”

  Cam grins and meets my gaze. “How could we not be?” he repeats.

  My heart sinks to my feet.

  To the burning core of the earth.

  Then all the way to China as my head shoots to the moon like a rocket.

  I know what project she’s talking about. It’s the WOA. The Western Ontario Arts School’s scholarship project! Chest tightening and temper rampi
ng up to high, I eye Miss Brown, who’s watching Laura deliver her news. She meets my gaze and smiles this happy, relaxed you-owe-me-for-this-awesomeness smile as though she thinks what she’s done is a good idea.

  The rabbit hole just got deeper, longer and darker!

  I hear Cam speak from very far away as his stupid eyes and warm smile and that electric voice try to draw me in all over again. “Ellen? Earth to Ellen? Are you okay?”

  “No. No! No!” I shout, standing so quickly my chair topples backward and I topple forward, causing the classroom to quiet and stare while I struggle for balance. I grab onto the back of Cam’s chair with my good arm and manage to right myself before I fall. At least I’ve also startled Cam enough that he, too, seems incapable of speech and that smile fades. I’m thankful, because I just can’t take any more of that thing.

  *Screams: Back away. No more butterflies. No more goose bumps. I’m allergic to cats, and caramels are really, really bad for your teeth!*

  Laura quickly hops up and grabs my chair off the floor. “You okay, luv?”

  “Again. No.” As I back slowly away from both of them, I lower my voice so only they can hear. “I’m sorry. I don’t work well in groups. Don’t get used to the idea. Miss Brown’s made a mistake. You’ll see. It’s nothing personal but I’m not…I can’t…work with you two on any special projects. It’s impossible.”

  ellen

  “Oh, I’m serious, Ellen.”

  “But you can’t be! Miss Brown, please. My frozen trees project is already proposed and accepted by the WOA contest!”

  “And it’s still listed as accepted and pending, but remember the deadline is December 1st. That means you’ve got only a few weeks.”

  “I know. I’m keeping track of the deadline. I only need to get gear down to Willow Beach. I’ve got the plan and the supplies. I’m ready to install everything over this long, three-day weekend. My only missing link was locking in a proper camera, and of course waiting on the weather. But after today’s early snow, I think I won’t have too long to wait for a freeze. I also have a lead on a camera shop that hinted they would sponsor me and loan me one for a weekend. And if not, my iPhone camera’s going to work out just fine. Maybe even better than a bigger camera because with the pulleys and ropes, I don’t know if the bigger camera will hang properly. More control with the smaller iPhone set up.”

  “Consider the camera problem solved. Cam owns the exact Nikon you wanted to use for this so you can test his out without worry. And he’s also got all the lenses. Fisheye, pano—all of them—and more.”

  I swallow, my heart racing at the sound of the word Nikon, but I deny my craving and say, “You know I like to work alone. At my own pace.” I slowly lower myself onto the stool next to her desk as I rush on, “No offense, Miss Brown. Cam Campbell, he’s okay as a person, and I can work with him on any other project you might assign. And the new girl is nice and funny…but she couldn’t even turn on her computer just now. They are going to slow me down. Or worse, mess me up and with the deadline looming how it is, I need to stay on track. Please. Not the Western Ontario Arts project. Anything but that. I’ve worked so hard. This is my year. WOA is sacred. Please. I mean to win it.”

  Miss Brown pulls her reading glasses up to let them rest on the top of her bright red, shoulder length hair. She hands me a print-out with the purple, crested Western Ontario Arts School logo on it. It’s a logo I’ve memorized. One I’d tattoo dead center on my forehead if I thought it would help me get into their Summer Scholars in Residence Program. But only winning the WOA will get me that.

  “Western Arts changed the structure of the competition. It has to be a group project. You have no choice.”

  I scan the paper. It appears to be the official rules and regulations for this year’s digital photography competition. Point number one states: All submitted entries must be a collaborative work of at least two or more students. Work percentages must be equal. All reports must be monitored and signed off and verified by the submitting teacher.

  I breathe out a long breath. “Why? Why would they do this? The contest hasn’t changed in years.”

  She sighs like I’m wasting her time. “It’s such a long shot, Ellen, you shouldn’t even care. This is why I dislike the WOA. It creates false hopes in nice kids like you.”

  “I find it annoying that you don’t believe in me.” My throat tightens. “Someone wins every year, and I’m winning it this year. I am. I’m already half packed. Promise you’ll find out how it works, because if they’ve split up the scholarship money then maybe I shouldn’t even waste my time working on this!”

  She sighs. “All right. I’ll find out. But Ellen, even if the monies are divided up, I’ll take no excuses. You still have to do the project like everyone else. I assigned the groups last weekend. You were to work only with Cam. First, because he was the only one who still didn’t have a project idea set in place, and second because his skills match yours. But since you and he both seem to already have befriended this new girl, I hope you can figure out a way to add her in to the project.”

  “What about the part where this project is my own—and you agreed—very awesome idea. Are you saying they get to just sign on without doing any of the legwork? I’ve worked months mapping this out. Months!”

  “Ideas are nothing until executed and your project specs have had me worried about you being able to properly execute since you submitted them. Your idea to photograph frozen trees from all angles and in all weather is tough to pull off for anyone. But you alone? Setting up pulleys and ropes, working on ice and snow for the final photos?” She blinks and looks at my legs then down at her desk. “I was relieved for your sake you would have partners. You need the help.”

  “Help? First you don’t believe in me and now you think I need help!” I shake my head hardly able to breathe. I’d always felt safe with Miss Brown but she’s just ripped my heart straight out of my chest. I whisper, “When have I failed at any of your projects? Made less than a perfect score. When have I ever needed help from anyone?”

  Her gaze softens. “Never. But with the tree idea, I’ve been worried about your—limitations—your safety.”

  “I have no limitations, Miss Brown. Please. Stop.” I’ve used my meanest voice, etched my eyes into iced stones. To lock away some of the pain in my chest, I cross my arms and pull my mouth into a twist that would set fire and fear in the heart of any sworn enemy.

  “Cam will be your unofficial, handicapped safety aide whether you like it or not—whatever you want to call him—he is signed on. I’ve involved the principal and he’s agreed as has your mother. I thought you’d be happy about this.”

  “Aide? And…and…you really just say the word handicapped—to me? I haven’t needed any sort of aide since middle school.”

  “These are extraordinary circumstances and you are getting hung up on language. I’m sorry if I offend you by misusing it by speaking too fast. Cam’s more of a body guard to protect you due to the many variables, but he’s also going to be a huge asset to your project.”

  I’m sputtering, still choking inside on the word handicap. Did she not get the memo? You’re not supposed to use that word anymore. No one’s supposed to use that word any more. Yet today, it’s all I’ve heard from people. People who should know better!

  “I’m going to inform Cam of how he’s supposed to interact and watch over your safety needs for the duration of the project. Would you like to call him up now and help me have that discussion?”

  I shake my head. “No. No. And no,” I say, still searching for a way out. “How about asking me if I could line up my own helper? Someone I might welcome? I’ve already been working on Patrick and he’s almost agreed to it. I choose him instead. He needs the same community service hours Cam Campbell needs.”

  “Patrick’s welcome to work on the project. The specification
s for WOA have a max of four teens per submission, so he’d be your fourth. Add him in if you must.”

  She crosses her arms in front of her. “This is non-negotiable.”

  I nod, because it’s all I can do. Anything else will have me bawling.

  “Good.” Miss Brown goes on, with her this-conversation-is-over look. “Laura London told me that you all three were already friends thanks to some magical destiny type event on the bus ride this morning. Is that so?” She’s smiling, trying to change the subject. “She’s quite a charming character, isn’t she?”

  When I don’t answer again, Miss Brown frowns. She hands me a fat envelope. “These are copies of Cam’s photos from his Light and Shapes project. His shots are the best I’ve seen besides your work, of course. Study his eye for drama. He’s amazing at textures and lighting, too. There’re a few in here that just blew me away.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I don’t have to look at two hundred footballs perched on turf to know what I think,” I choke out.

  She leans forward, speaking very low, “I—I’m shocked you are taking this so badly. I set it up mostly because I feel sorry for Cam, not for you. People are not always what they seem on the surface. You, of all people, should know that. And,” she blinks pointedly at me, “You’ve unfairly judged that poor boy.”

  I feel my face flush bright red. “Really? Really? Now you’re calling Mr. Have Everything Camden Campbell a poor boy?”

  “Really.”

  I turn and look at Cam and Laura. Somehow Cam’s made it out of the classroom during my talk with Miss Brown. He’s twirling what appears to be a third tiger beanie on his finger. He and Laura have both put on their beanies, and they’re nodding like dorks so the giant google-eyes in the hats are also going up and down in unison. They’re grinning maniacally at me like they’ve hatched a plan to try and get me to crack up.