Chapter 24: Camera Shy

“Alright class, in a few short moments, I’m gonna need all of you to line up at the door to go down to the auditorium.”

The instant my English teacher made that announcement, she put it in me a total bad mood.

For going down to the auditorium as a class could only mean one thing:

It was Picture Day, my most hated day of the entire school year.

You might be thinking what’s so bad about picture day, especially in High School where it’s all half-assed and only really done so they can update all the school ids?

I mean, it definitely isn’t like elementary school where Mom would make me dress up, get my hair done, and send me out with a form to give to the photographer specifying her desired pose, lighting, and background along with the number of copies she wanted as gifts for friends and family. That stuff is so far into the past.

No, the problem, the main gripe, thing that totally grinds my gears about picture day is…. wait for it….

The no hat rule.

Seriously, what a dumb rule, not being allowed to wear a hat in a picture.

The main reason they say, is because it covers your face.

Well duh, if you haven’t noticed I wear mine backwards, you can see my face just fine.

But no, they’ll come up with some other excuse about how it’s “not appropriate” “too anti-uniform” of “simply against school policy”.

Yet at the same time they won’t bat at jocks wearing football jerseys and weirdos wearing questionable graphic t-shirts.

Heck, they barely even care if a girl shows too much cleavage.

But again, a hat of all things? Straight to jail.

Ugh… I give up.

Now that I’m done ranting, back to the story.

So after my teacher made her announcement, I lined up next to the door along with the rest of my classmates.

Troy, who was next me, quickly took note of the grouchy expression on my face.

“Yo, you ready for this Al?” He said, jokingly.

“Troy, you know darn well how I feel about picture day.” I grumbled.

“Of course, it’s your favorite day of the year.” He continued, as we got dismissed and began heading down to the auditorium. “But hey it’ll be quick, besides we could use the break from English. That popcorn reading we were doing was getting so awkward.”

“You were about to call on me next weren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

By the time we made it to the auditorium, I was on edge. I stood in line, watching one kid after another step in front of the backdrop, sit on the stool, and flash a smile as the camera clicked. Like most years, it felt like the longest line I’d ever stood in. The familiar impending dread was suffocating.

Finally, it was my turn. The photographer, a middle aged lady who was way too upbeat for my liking, motioned me forward to the center of the stage.

“Your name?”

“Alex Bradley.” I murmured.

“Okay, have a seat,” she said, adjusting the camera. “Hey… miss, I’m gonna have to ask you to take that hat off.”

There it was, right on cue.

“Uh, I’d rather not.” I insisted.

“Sorry, but it’s school policy.”

Oh really Sherlock? Thanks for reminding me.

I rolled my eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. I bristled for a second as my hand went up to the brim of my cap. I could have argued, delivered a snarky comeback, but there was no use in fighting it, the last thing I wanted was a rerun of fifth grade picture day.

I hesitated before slowly, reluctantly, pulling my cap off. A few strands of my hair fell around my face, and I instantly felt discomfort creep in.

“Perfect,” the photographer said. “Now show me your best smile!”

A firm smirk was all I offered, though it felt more like a grimace. The flash went off, and the photographer clicked something on her computer. “Alright, we’re done! You’re free to go.”

Relieved, I quickly shoved my cap back on my head, before hurrying back to class.

Luckily, I’m only gonna have to see that picture once, when the new ids come out. I’ll probably give it a quick glance before cramming it down to the very bottom of my backpack.

The rest of English class went by, more or less without a hitch. Luckily, no one called on me during popcorn reading, sparing me the torture of having to recite a page or two out loud.

While I was stopping by my locker to pick up my binder for my next class, I heard it. The unmistakable sharp “A-lex” that only came from a certain someone when she was either half teasing and half ready to murder me.

I turned. Nicole stood with her arms crossed, her messenger bag half-slipping off her shoulder.

“Hey, Nic what’s up?”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” she said. “The school dance, last Friday. Why didn’t you tell me you and Troy would be there?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to go,” I said, as I slammed my locker door shut. “You hate those things almost as much as I do.”

”Yeah, but I still would’ve gone. For you. If you’d have just told me…”

I shifted my weight, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on the floor. “Nic, really it’s not that big of a deal.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh girl, give me a break. It is a big deal. You went. My friend who couldn’t be more allergic to large social gatherings went to the dance. How am I supposed to ignore that?”

“I wasn’t even planning on it,” I muttered as I began walking away. “It was all sort of last minute.”

Nicole squinted at me, like she was trying to telepathically decode something hidden beneath my skin. Then she said something that sent an instant chill down my spine.

“Was it Wes Freeman who asked you?”

My eyes widened as I immediately stopped dead in my tracks. “Wait, what?! How the hell do you—“

Nicole let out a breath that was part laugh, part annoyed sigh. “Danielle told me, you know, one of my friends you were so jealous about me spending time with instead of you last year? She was at the dance, she spotted you with Wes, said you even danced together for a little bit. I got a text with all the details.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Ok fine, you caught me red handed…”

“So then, what’s the story with him?” She asked with a sly look.

“Nothing.” I muttered. “He’s in my math class, he walks home the same way as me, and he’s friendly. That’s it. You’re grasping at straws.”

“Do you like him?” She pushed on. “It’s totally okay if you do, I promise I won’t tell.”

“N-n-no…”

She blinked, unconvinced. “C’mon, he talked you of all people into going to the dance. There’s obviously something going on between you two. I pinky swear I won’t tell.”

I shook my head. “Nicole, enough, I have to get to my next class. Maybe I’ll tell you about it later.”

After a pause, she bumped her shoulder lightly into mine. “Alright, but next time you’re planning on doing something super dramatic and out of character, invite me, okay?”

I nodded, toeing at the floor with the tip of my sneaker as I resumed walking. “Sure, whatever.”

“I’m serious, Al. don’t brush me out next time.” Nicole insisted.

“I won’t.”

We reached the split on the third floor where I had Calculus and Nicole had Chemistry. She stopped and looked at me, her expression even more direct.

“Hey,” she said. “Also if you're worried about me being a third wheel around you and Wes, don’t be. Like at the dance, I’d have left the two of you alone. Danielle and Troy would have been more than enough company for me.”

“Wes is NOT my boyfriend.” I groaned. “We’re barely even friends!”

“I know, I know.” She continued. “Just giving you the heads up for next time.”

Next time? Will there even be a next time? I do one thing outside my comfort zone and now suddenly it’s like I’m writing up a whole new social contract.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Great.” She replied as she skipped off to her next class. “See you at lunch.”

Nicole disappeared down the hall, and I headed toward Calculus, still unnerved by her ultimatums.

As soon as I walked into the classroom, Wes was already waiting for me at his desk, next to mine.

When I slid next to him, he seemed cautious about looking at me, like he wasn’t sure if he had proper clearance to talk about the dance or not.

“Hey,” he eventually said, keeping it low.

“Hey,” I replied, not making eye contact with him right away. I was busy trying to get this stupid old graphing calculator I got from Tyler to turn on.

“My mind’s still on last Friday, is yours too?”

I glanced sideways. He had that faint, crooked, amused expression on his face.

“Yep.” I muttered. “Only because people won’t let me forget about it.”

He laughed under his breath. “What can you say, whenever an outsider shows up to something like that it’s big news. It’s not really fair but I don’t make the rules.”

“Well, glad to see you have some common sense.” I replied. “Now do me a favor and let the whole dance thing rot away in the past.”

“Got it.” Wes said with a thumbs up. “But can I just say one last thing?”

“Spill it.”

“You, uh… looked nice by the way.” he replied awkwardly, like he was just tossing it out there, hoping I wouldn’t immediately obliterate it with fire.

I blinked. “You mean in my jeans and crappy jacket I put on at the last second?”

“Yeah. The hat too. Something just made it all work. It gave you mystique.”

I felt my ear go a little warm. I look down, pretending to tap on my calculator like I wasn’t being given a compliment I actually welcomed for once.

“You didn’t look bad yourself.” I slipped back. “For someone who voluntarily babysat me at the school dance.”

He grinned. “Wow, thanks!”

Before either of us could say anything else, our math teacher started handing out worksheets. Wes shifted forward in his seat, and I followed suit, pretending to focus.

I was midway through the worksheet when I felt the soft tap of a pencil end against my elbow.

“Hey do you want to hang out again sometime?” Wes whispered.

“And do what? If it’s a romantic dinner I’ll pass.”

“Nope,” he said. “If I were to, let’s say, invite you to go skating at Woodland park on Thursday you would be up for it?”

I stared at him for a second. “You skate?”

“Yep, since I was like nine. You interested?”

I hesitated, eyes flicking back to the worksheet as an excuse not to answer too fast.

“Maybe…” I said, twisting my pencil.

“Maybe as in…?” He pressed me.

“Maybe as in, like with dance, you’ll have to wait to find out if I show up.”

He nodded. “Sweet. Can’t wait.”

I returned my eyes to my worksheet, my pencil suddenly a little harder to hold steady.

What the heck was happening to me?

And why did the heck did I agree go skating? I’ve never touched a skateboard in my life!

Great, now what?

When I got home from school, I bolted straight to the garage and started rummaging through the back corner of the garage with where a bunch of my family’s random junk was located.

If I was going to even entertain skating with Wes, I was gonna need my own board.

Finally after a few short minutes, there it was. Wedged between an old paint can and a couple ancient lawn chairs was a green skateboard that Tyler didn’t bother to take with him.

I could see why. The thing was pretty beat up. The paint was faded and chipped, the black grip tape was all scratched up, and the band stickers he’d plastered on it were peeling off. One of the wheels even wobbled a little when I picked it up to give it a test roll.

Still, for practice, it would do.

I was about to leave with the board, when I heard the sharp creek of the door to family room opening.

“Ah ha. There you are Alex! What are you up to?”

There was Mom, framed in the doorway, holding her car keys and completely bewildered.

“I was just um…” I muttered, subtly hiding the board behind my back. “Looking for a screwdriver. My desk chair is wobblily again.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to do that later because you and me are about to go to someplace really fun.”

My stomach dropped. “Where? What are you talking about?”

“Sorry my bad.” She said, already pressing the button to open the garage door. “Remember how you mentioned how you and Tiffany hadn’t done anything together for a while?”

Uh oh.

“I talked to Mrs. Reardon.” Mom continued to chirp. “And together with additional input from Tiffany, we came up a fabulous treat for the two of you.”

That last part barely registered as the garage door finished opening. That’s when I saw the one and only menace of the hour proudly standing at the top of my driveway.

“Hi there Alex!” Tiffany exclaimed, greeting me with her usual sleazy happy go lucky smile. “Are you ready for an absolutely spectacular time at the Oasis spa?”,

Kill me now.

“Unfortunately, my Mom was too busy to take us, but thankfully your Mom was right there as always to step up to plate.”

“Tiff, how long is this crap gonna take?” I asked, desperate. “Half an hour?”

“Who cares about time?” Tiff sneered, motioning to my Mom’s car. “It’s the memories that count, those are what last a lifetime.”

Having no other choice, I forcibly slumped my body over to the car while Tiff giddily hopped into the backseat.

“Hey before your start.” I whispered to her, knowing she was about use her entire round of ammo. “I already know you saw me with Wes at dance. He’s not my boyfriend, so you can just shut up about it right now.”

Tiff raised her eyebrows, taken aback before urgently whispering “Shh! Your Mom’s right there. It ain’t safe to talk boys just yet.”

Wow, didn’t realize Tiff was also smart enough to know that boys are bad topic with Moms around. I’m impressed.

Anyway, the spa was just brutal as it sounded. Not as bad as fashion shopping with Tiff, but still an experience in medieval torture.

The place smelled like lavender, lemon and expensive excess.

I was given this puffy robe that swallowed me whole and told to relax, before being ushered me into this dim room where me and Tiff both partook in what was called the “Glow & Go super deluxe package.”

First came the normal as expected massage. Relaxing actually. Probably the only decent part of the experience.

Next came a manicure. Terrible. The nail lady asked if I wanted sparkles or just gloss before I panicked and muttered “clear.” Even that felt like a step to far.

Then came part where they did our hair. I quickly settled on safest option: a deep conditioning treatment. It was just a wash of my hair, nothing permanent. Still, I had to listen to the stylist rave about my “rich natural color” the entire time.

After that, came the cliche thing where they wipe oatmeal avocado cream over your face and put cucumber slices over your eyes. It was stupid.

With that junk all over our faces, we moved on to doing a foot soak. You heard that correctly, a foot soak.

Tiffany was loving it. She had her feet in the tub, leaning back, laughing about how good the water felt, acting like she was in a beauty commercial for serenity with those cucumber slices on her eyes.

Meanwhile, I sat there on the edge of the chair trying to get through it, which led to the thing, the final straw that capped the whole day off.

I still had those slices on my eyes, unable to see a dang thing, when I suddenly heard Mom squeal in excitement.

“And… perfect! Oh I have to show this picture to Grandma, she’s gonna get such a kick out of it!”

I immediately whipped off the cucumbers, and shot her a point blank glare of stone cold offense.

“Mom, don’t you dare. Delete it.”

Mom shook her head, undeterred. “Excuse me? I can take and share as many photos of my children as I want. Thank you very much.”

Tiff giggled in her seat next seat next to me. “What wrong Alex? You picture shy?”

Nope, not at all. See, I had not one but two crummy pictures taken of me today.

I’m practically a model!