fragile [PREVIEW ONLY]

Chapter 7

By seventh period, my head was throbbing beneath my skull, and I could definitely use a cup of coffee. Or twelve. Apparently, the doctor told my mom that my concussion was mild - meaning I only got to skip one day of school - and she was supposed to call the school and inform them that I wasn't supposed to do much reading for the rest of the week, but she was passed out when I woke up this morning. I didn't feel like waking her, and now I suffered the consequences.

I walked to my desk at the front left corner of Mr. Buchanan's classroom and dropped my bag next to the seat before curling up in the chair. I was early, which was rare, so I lowered my forehead into my arms and rested my eyes for a minute before class began. This class was my haven - no real textbook, no boring lectures. Mr. Buchanan believed in teaching through experience, so we were regularly assigned new projects that explored a different facet of film photography. Sometimes we focused on composition, other times on contrast, and sometimes the entire point of the project was to explore the world around us and discover something unique and beautiful where others might not see it. We even had a darkroom attached to the classroom, meaning we were probably one of the few high schools that still taught film photography, but I loved it. 

I was taking Photography II next semester, which focused on digital photography, but I wanted to start with film. There's something so wonderful and tangible about it. No auto-settings to make the picture perfect for you. No computer to correct your mistakes. You have to know your camera, know the light, know your subject...to me, it made photography more intimate and so much more rewarding. I loved capturing a moment on film, developing it myself with the chemicals in the school's darkroom, and seeing the combination of talent and technical skill merge on that thin piece of photo paper.

This week's project was repetition, and our assignment was to find and photograph an example of natural repetition. We weren't allowed to touch or alter the subject (or subjects, in this case) at all, simply to observe and capture. I'd already taken my photos over the weekend and developed the roll of film on Monday, so I just needed to pick it up from where it hung to dry and select a photo to develop. We each turned in one finished image, so today would be spent in the darkroom choosing a shot, enlarging and focusing it, and making the print. Not all of my classmates were so diligent in their work - many chose to use their spare time to goof off or sleep - but I couldn't blame them. Today, the temptation to be a slacker was very strong.

A touch on my shoulder brought me out of my thoughts, and I blinked a few times as I jerked upright. My head felt even more groggy than before - a mixture of my headache and sleepiness - and I wiped my face with my hands before turning around.

Theo De Vries looked back at me, a smile tugging up the corner of his lips. His mouth formed the word 'hey' and I stared back at him, feeling a little bit like a deer caught in headlights, before giving him a brief smile and a dorky wave.

Ugh. I waved. Instantly, I wanted to wither up and slink away, but instead I kept my gaze leveled at him. I could tell my cheeks were burning pink, but - to be honest - there weren't a whole lot of options for me. What else was I supposed to do to say hello except to wave? At least I didn't sign hello, which is more like a salute, and I didn't feel like grabbing a piece of paper just to spell out 'hi'.

Somehow, he didn't seem to mind my stupidity and lifted up a tiny purple notebook. Worn at the edges, it took me a moment to recognize that it was my tiny purple notebook. The one I always carried with me, and the one I thought I lost after Zach knocked me down in the lunchroom.

The emotions running across my face must have been amusing - jumping from excitement to horror that Theo found it - because soon enough, he was laughing at me. I couldn't hear it, but I could see his shoulders shaking slightly from the movement, and his mouth turned up at the corners. I'm used to people laughing at me, but something about this was different. He didn't seem to be making fun of me, especially since his smile didn't quite reach his dark brown eyes, and no one around us seemed to be laughing with him.

"Here," Theo said, handing the purple notebook to me. "I thought you might want this back."

Stunned, I stare at him for a moment before signing, Thank you.

"I think that means thank you, so you're welcome," he replied. "Thank you. I really liked your drawing of Mrs. Santo. She makes a very convincing zombie."

My cheeks burned bright red again, and I smiled. Hesitating a moment, I flipped open the notebook and pulled a pencil out of my backpack before scribbling a note back to Theo.

You read it?

Sliding the notebook toward him, he takes it and nods, "I know I shouldn't have, but I was curious."

I grabbed the notebook and wrote back, Curious? About the freaky deaf chick?

"No," Theo told me. "Curious about the quiet girl in my photography class."

Oh, I wrote to him. Thank you, then. I guess you were the one who helped me on Tuesday?

His eyes glanced over my shoulder to the front of the classroom, and I followed them to discover that Mr. Buchanan was starting class. Giving Theo a quick grin, I flipped the notebook shut and spun around in my seat to face the front. We always started the class with a five to ten minute lesson on some element of photography before diving into the real work, and today Mr. Buchanan was using the time to return last week's assignments with our grades.

Once he moved past our aisle, I felt another light tap on my shoulder and turned. Theo held up a small scrap of paper, clearly torn from the bottom of his notebook, and I took it from him.

Don't worry about Zach, his note said. He's an asshole, but he should leave you alone now.

Wrinkling my forehead, I turned back to look at Theo only to watch him stand and head toward the darkroom. He was flanked on either side by Cora and Andrew, both of them chatting away as they started their work, but he remained stoic. He looked lost in thought, like he was in his own little world - completely oblivious to his friends' conversation - and like he really didn't want to be here. I couldn't quite put my thumb on it, but his eyes seemed distant and distracted. Not the way you'd expect a track star genius to look, in other words.

I let out a sigh, still holding Theo's note, before slipping it into my pocket and standing. My project wasn't going to do itself, no matter how much I wanted it to, so I went through the rest of class like normal. Grabbing my film, I picked a frame I thought might work best and waited in the darkroom for an enlarger to become available. I could see Theo working quietly across the room, twisting the knob to focus his image, but an enlarger became available on the other side of the room and quickly claimed it.

There was no point in thinking about Theo De Vries and what his note meant, because it didn't matter.

Right?