Flicker Read Free

sense, so that's why I'm here."
    This is the person our
fine police station chose to send to our school? As he
drones on, I twist around in my seat to find Amelia. We had to sit
with our class and she's towards the back of the room. A sharp
cough draws my eye near the aisle and Amelia's dark head pops
up.
    "Did you have a question, miss?"
    Her head disappears.
    "Kids, this is a serious matter. I know you
think you've got better things to worry about, but your safety is
the priority of this school, the police department, and your
families."
    My eyes skim the faces, hoping to find
someone as bored as I am, and land on Cameron. He isn't smiling.
Several kids turn to look at him, then stare across the auditorium
at me. Heat flushes my cheeks and I sink lower in my seat.
    Safety. Right. I can at least pretend to pay
attention to the rest of the speech.
     
    *****
     
    Robbie's waiting for me at my locker. "I
texted you last night…"
    A lie springs to my lips but the hurt in his
eyes stops me. "I'm sorry, I—"
    "I don't get it. You always have your phone
on you."
    That's true. I got each of his texts the
instant they came through. I just couldn't make myself reply.
    He stares at the ground, the confidence I'd
once found so endearing gone.
    Guilt pummels me, but there's no sense in
dragging this out. "Robbie, this isn't working for me anymore.
You're a great guy and all but—"
    He looks up. "You're serious? Just like
that?" He shakes his head and his gaze drops to the floor. "But
what about…?" he trails off.
    I bite my lip.
    He leans close and his dark eyes turn cold.
"I should've listened when everyone told me to stay the hell away
from you. What a waste of time."
    My reputation may have a benefit after all.
I watch him go, unable to move until the bell sounds. Late for
class, I slam my locker shut and hurry to photojournalism.
    At least I won't fail in there.
     
    *****
     
    "Biz, these are remarkable." Turner clicks
through my photos a third time. "You have a remarkable eye for
detail, especially considering this is your first photography
class."
    My head drops forward until my hair covers
my face. Until this year I hadn't taken photography seriously and
while I love hearing that I’m doing well, I'm not used to getting
compliments.
    "Don't be embarrassed. It took me until I
was in my thirties to discover my passion. You have a gift and you
should be proud of it."
    "Mm-hmm." I want to hear this, I really do,
but couldn't he just text me or something? Hearing people say nice
things out loud is just weird. Especially a teacher.
    He clears his throat and waits until I meet
his eye. "The assignment was flora so you can't use these—" he
holds up a hand when my mouth drops open, "—for class. But I'd like
you to submit them to the paper."
    "Oh, sure." No one actually reads the Weekly
Digest. It's a glorified gossip rag for the kids in the newspaper
club. And not even good gossip.
    He continues clicking through my photos.
    "So do I just talk to the club advisor?"
    His eyes narrow and his head tilts slightly
to the side. "What? Why—oh! I don't mean the school paper." He
chuckles and my cheeks burn. "I meant the Daily Chronicle."
    Now it's my turn to be confused. "But why
would they want my pictures?"
    "Biz, I'm trying to tell you that you have
talent. Something that will stay with you long after you've
finished high school." He sets the camera on his desk. "Getting
published in a real publication is just the first step."
    "You really think these are good enough?
They're just of the side of my house."
    "A friend of mine runs the features section
and he's always looking these types of photos. I'll give you his
email and you can submit them that way."
    I bristle despite myself. "I don't need any
favors."
    He exhales heavily. "I appreciate that you
think I have that much control over what is published in our local
paper, but believe me, I don't. All I'm giving you is the
connection. The rest is up to you."
    I head back to my desk,