Authors: Annalisa Grant
“Ok
ay, Kinley, now’s your chance,” Addison says to me from across the table in a loud whisper. “Miller is alone. Go talk to him for me.”
“Miller’s been alone this whole time,” Pete says sarcastically. “Why are you so into him anyway? He doesn’t fit your usual type. It’s the tattoos, isn’t it?
I gotta get a tattoo.”
“I’ve never been with a guy who’s all tatted up like that before. It’s totally hot.” Addison makes this sexy face and I want to kick her under the table. It’s one thing to talk about looking and being slutty with the girls in her room
, it’s another thing to come across like a total slut in front of everyone. She’s a really kind and generous person and I don’t like the idea of that not being what people immediately see in her.
“Now?” I look at her with strong eyes, trying to tell her that I’m not quite ready to leave my seat – the one with Cal’s arm resting on the back – to go set up her booty call.
“Yes. Now. Please?” she says.
“I’m gonna run back to The Lodge and make sure the
beverages
are all set for the bonfire,” Cal says. “I’ll catch you later, everyone. See you tonight?” he says to me.
“Definitely.”
Cal pushes his chair out and clears his dishes.
I breathe a heavy sigh and shoot daggers at Addison.
“What?” she says obliviously.
“What? Really? I was pretty cozy here with Cal and you cut that off just so I could do your dirty work for you!” I shout in a whisper to her across the table.
“You already have your guy! If you don’t help me with Miller I won’t have a guy for the summer!” she whines.
“You are a walking contradiction. In one breath you’re talking about making it so easy for guys to know you’re available, and in the next you’re putting on your own show of girls-don’t-chase-after-boys. If you’re so available, why don’t you just go talk to him yourself?”
“What’s gotten into you?” she says. I’m not sure that I’ve ever confronted and chastised Addy for this behavior before, but then again, I’ve never had anything better to occupy my time. “
One
guy
finally
likes you and all of the sudden you’re too good to help your sister?”
“Hey! You’re the one who told me to be open to him!” I counter. “And that’s really mean!”
“Just … Kinley, please. Please go over there. I’m not asking you to do anything you haven’t done before. I’m sorry I was so bitchy. Please?” Addy looks at me with her begging blue eyes and once again I fall right into my role. It’s hard to resist her, and, really, I just want her to be happy. If she thinks Miller will make her happy, even for the summer, how can I deny her that? One day she’ll grow up and will have no more wild oats to sow. Until then, this is just Addy.
“Fine. But you owe me a better apology than that sorry
-ass one you threw in there,” I tell her.
“I’m sorry
, Kin.” Addy gets up from her seat across from me and moves around the table to the seat where Cal had been sitting. “You’re my sister and I love you and I couldn’t be happier that Cal is into you. You looked pretty comfortable with him, so I guess you were just doing what I made you promise you’d do. Forgive me?”
I sigh
, knowing that Addison is the only person in the world I can’t stay mad at. “Of course.” We hug and I know Addy is looking over my shoulder to see if Miller is still there. She doesn’t say he’s gone so I can assume he’s still there with his nose in his book. “You should probably let me go so I can go harass that poor, unsuspecting boy,” I tell her.
“You really are the best sister ever. You know that, don’t you?” Addy says sweetly to me.
“Yes. I’m awesome.” I smile at her, feeling the love you can only feel from your sister.
Addison saunters away, breezing by Miller with her best sex-on-two-legs stride
, but Miller doesn’t flinch. It’s so weird. It’s almost like watching trains derail. You can’t believe it’s happening because it all seems so unreal, but yet, there it is.
After Addy walks past Miller and gets through her huff of disappointment, I continue to watch him. Obviously I noticed him when he arrived today, but this is the first time I’ve really, really looked at him. His tattoos were initially a distraction, mainly because he’s the only one here with any visible ones. Now I have this unreasonable urge to kneel down next to him and extend his arm out just to examine each one.
He’s working feverishly in his book. I can’t tell if he’s writing or drawing because his pencil is moving so fast. His head tilts from side to side as he works, which makes me lean closer to my thought that he’s drawing. I wonder if he’s sketching out new tattoo ideas.
My staring finally catches up with me when Miller breaks his own trance and looks up at me. Neither of us moves or averts our eyes from each other and an odd feeling comes over me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it seems different. I’m about to take a breath and follow through with my task for Addison when he smiles. Like, genuinely smiles. It’s not condescending or insincere. He doesn’t even look annoyed at my rude staring. It’s a real smile. This feeling I
know
I’ve never had, and I internally chastise myself for having and enjoying it. It’s the feeling that I just got something from a boy that my sister didn’t.
Before I can even reciprocate the smile or take a step forward, Mr. Fellows slides into my view. I don’t know where he came from, just that one minute I was having a surreal moment with Miller
Conrad and the next I’m staring at a scruffy middle-aged man.
“Kinley! Mary and I are so excited to have you back!” he says with a huge smile.
“Oh, um … thank you! I’m really glad to be back. I had a great time with the kids last summer,” I tell him, stumbling over my words. Mr. Fellows is standing just a little too close so I do my best to take a small step back and pretend I’m looking for something in my camera case. Mr. Fellows is awesome, but he has one of those off-putting appearances. He looks like your creepy uncle who you only see at Thanksgiving … the one whose hazy line of boundaries you tolerate. On the other hand, personality-wise, he’s like your cool uncle that you only see once a year who covers for you with your parents while you do stuff you probably shouldn’t be doing, like hanging around a bonfire all night drinking.
“Speaking of cameras,” he says
, pointing to my bag. “I was wondering if we could give you a bit of a different job assignment this summer. We want to do a new brochure for the camp and have a bigger feature of the scholarship kids in it as well as on the website. I’m not going to use the photographer we’ve used in the past. They could only come a few days out of the whole summer, so they were missing so many of the great spontaneous moments we have here. So … Mary and I were talking and we wondered how you would feel about being the official Camp at Lake Hollis photographer?”
“What? Are you kidding me? You want to pay me to take pictures
… all summer?” Now I really am taken back. This is amazing! More than I could have ever dreamed of!
He smiles and laughs at my astonishment. “Yes, Kinley, I do
! Mary and I loved the prints you gave us last year, and I lost count on the number of emails we got from parents thanking us for having a professional photographer on staff!”
“Oh my gosh, Mr. Fellows! You won’t be sorry! I was already going to work on my portfolio this summer, but now that I won’t be trying to fit it in between teaching kids how to paddle a canoe, it’s going to be even better!
I mean, I’ll still definitely help out if you need me to, but … oh my gosh!” I throw my arms around his neck and chant my thanks to him. When I release him I try to fix his shirt. That’s when I realize that the buttons are off and his whole shirt is crooked. “I won’t let you down!”
“I know you won’t. Now, if you need to use the tech cabin, just let me know. As you know, the campers can use it once a
week and you counselors have access in the evening, but if you need me to turn the Wi-Fi on for you outside of then, just let me know. You can upload the pictures to the current year file. There are other files of pictures there, but I’m sure you’re not interested in our vacation to the Grand Canyon, or Mary’s pictures of her trips to see her mother.” Mr. Fellows puts his hand to the side of his mouth like he’s going to tell me something very hush-hush. “I don’t even care enough to look at that one!” We laugh and he begins to walk away.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Fellows! I won’t let you down!” I call to him.
“Thank
you
, Kinley! We really can’t wait to see what you get!”
Mr. Fellows leaves me in my ecstatic state, bubbling over with excitement. I’ve done some modeling shoots for friends and friends of friends, but I did all those dirt cheap. We both got great pictures to add to our portfolios so it was a win-win. But this is my first real photography job! He’s going to use my pictures for their new brochures and on their website! I can’t wait to tell Addy
.
Addy. Oh, no.
I look back to where Miller was sitting but he’s gone. Pushing the door open to the porch of the dining cabin, I scan the yard but don’t see him. Addy is going to kill me. No, no … she’ll be fine. I’ll just tell her my good news. Once she hears that the Fellows hired me as the official Lake Hollis photographer, I’m sure she’ll be happy for me and understand. I’ll catch up with Miller at the bonfire and everything will be fine.
The sun is beginning to set and I decide that now is the perfect time to get some test shots in
. It’ll also buy me some extra time before I have to deal with Addy.
I walk toward the lake slowly, eyeing how the light is streaming through the trees.
The sun doesn’t set on this side of the lake, it rises. The sky is beginning to glow, creating that strange transition between day and night. There are streams of light coming through parts of the trees and yet the darkness is beginning to creep into some places.
I stop when I reach a point where I can really see the streams of light. A haze of dust and microscopic insects look like they’re floating in
an alien spaceship beam. I pull the Canon Dad helped me buy used two years ago from my bag. It’s a great camera and I love it, but every time I catch a great shot I dream of how stellar the pictures from the Canon Mark 3 will be.
I put the camera to my face and shut one eye as I line up the shot. I shift my stance just slightly and I catch an angle where the light is coming through even stronger. I’m about to press my finger down and take the shot when my view goes completely black.
When I pull the camera from my face to see what the obstruction is, Miller Conrad is standing in front of me.
“There’s a better cluster of trees down toward the embankment. You’ll get a better contrast between light and dark
… a better color contrast, too,” Miller says with a confident smile.
“And how would you know that?” I ask him, annoyed that he just ruined my shot
… and my mood.
“I’m an artist, too,” he tells me, adjusting the book he’s been scribbling in and what looks like a sketch pad under his arm.
He called me an artist. I’ve argued with people about photographers being artists. They say it’s not really art because I’m not
creating
something. I’m taking what’s there and just capturing it. They have no idea the time, energy, and skill it takes to capture or even
create
the perfect shot. My mood has instantaneously changed with this one, tiny word – too – but not like it has in the past when I was compared to Addison. “You’re pretty in your own way,
too
, Kinley.”
“You know, you could have told me about the embankment without standing in the way o
f my shot.” I smile back at him but make sure I keep a tone of annoyance. I don’t want him thinking he can literally walk into my frame any time.
“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”
I begin walking toward the embankment, wanting to catch this great shot he’s assured me is waiting for me. The sun is getting lower in the sky and I’ll need to catch it and get back to The Lodge before I’m stuck in the dark. There are lights on the corners of each of the cabins, but they’re low and not really designed to help you walk from one side of the camp to the other. They’re mostly there to make sure the kids can get from their cabin to the showers if they bathe at night. There are patches of darkness where, in the middle of the night, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.
“Matthew said he thought you were an artist,” I tell him, making small talk as I realize he’s walking with me.
“It’s kind of hard to hide the sketch pads. I take them with me everywhere I go. Sometimes I feel like they’re physically a part of me,” he says.
“That’s exactly how I feel about my camera, and what my sist
er accuses me of all the time. On the way here she told me my camera was my third eye. I took it as a compliment.” I give a little chuckle and Miller smiles with me. “But, she doesn’t mind it so much when I use her for test shots. The camera loves her,” I say, working my way to letting Miller know he’s got the green light from Addison.
“How long have you had this third eye of yours?” he asks, ignoring what I thought was a perfect
seguing for him to acknowledge Addison’s beauty and his interest in her.
“Oh, um,” I stutter, taken off
-guard. “About four years now. A family friend gave me her old camera when she upgraded to a professional one. A year and a half later my dad helped me buy this one used. I’m saving my money to upgrade again soon. I’m planning on traveling with my mom. She’s a photographer for National Geographic.”
“That’s incredible,” he says with a smile. “I bet you’re really good.”
“It’s all subjective, but people seem to like my work.” I blush. I’ve never really talked about my dream with anyone but Addison, and she’s never really that interested. She usually starts talking about the fashion in different parts of the world and how it’s influenced modern styles today. And when I talk with other journalism students about it, they don’t completely connect the dots between photojournalism and investigative writing journalism. “What about you? How long have you been drawing?”
“
Since I was about four, so, seventeen years? I was that kid in fourth grade who the teachers asked to design a mural for the administrative offices. Then I got into poetry around seventh grade, so I became that weird, quiet, artistic guy no one knew what to do with. All my friends were playing video games and I was painting and writing poetry about how heartbreaking the homeless situation in my town was.”
“That explains the tattoos,” I say sarcastically. “What do they say? ‘My body is my journal and my tattoos are my story’?”
“Ouch! I hadn’t pegged you for the judgey type,” Miller says with a laugh.
“I’m not judging! I’m just making an observation and putting two and two together,” I protest.
“Well,” he says, stopping. “There’s a story behind all of them. Some of those stories begin with ‘my buddies and I were drinking and …’ But, if you’re lucky, maybe one day I’ll tell you the other, more meaningful stories. Of course, you can always just break down and ask me.” He smiles at me and I smile back, thinking that I’d be very interested in hearing his stories. “We’re here.” Miller points to the embankment and I immediately see the contrast he was talking about earlier.
“Oh, wow
… this is great! I drop my bag and step closer to the trees so that the embankment is on my left and the cluster of trees is in front of me. I bend down slightly as I work to find the perfect angle. That perfect angle is found when I’m in the most awkward of positions: half crouched down with a leg extended. I’m about to lose my balance when Miller steadies me.
“Here, lean against me and I’ll steady you,” he says. He’s on his knees, putting his chest against my back so I can balance. He’s got one hand on my shoulder and the other on my hip. I suck in my tummy and feel myself lengthen the side of my body where his hand is low so that he doesn’t feel those rolls that form when I fold my body in any way. My imperfections are visible enough; I don’t want him to
feel
just how imperfect I am. Especially since I’m about to draw attention to my ridiculously perfect sister.
“Um
… thanks.” I barely get the words out before I take a few shots and then stand up. “You were right about the contrast. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies softly.
“So … you know about the bonfire tonight, right?” I ask as I pick up my bag and put my camera away. I’m losing light and there won’t be any point in me keeping it out now.
“Yeah, Matthew said something about it.”
“Matthew will be there. So will I … and my sister, Addison,” I tell him.
“Well, I wasn’t going to go, but if you’re going to be there
…” He smiles as we walk back toward The Lodge.
What?
“You’ll definitely want to officially meet Addy,” I tell him. Maybe he didn’t hear me the first time when I said she’d be there. “She’s great and
really
wants to meet you, too.”
“I’m not really into superficial beauty queens.”
“Now who’s being judgey?” I say.
“I’m sure your sister is very nice, but she’s not my type,” he answers.
“What do you mean she’s not your type? Addison is every guy’s type,” I say with shock.
“I’d be happy to meet her, but I’m not interested in her,” he says very matter-of-fact.
I stop in my tracks, amazed at this conversation I’ve never had before. I narrow my eyes at Miller as I try to figure him out. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever met who hasn’t been even remotely interested in my sister. In fact, you might be the only guy on the
planet
who hasn’t been even remotely interested in my sister. I need a minute here. I’m confident this is never going to happen again.”
“Like I said, I’m sure Addison is very nice, but
… I already met the more interesting sister.” Miller locks his eyes on mine and I feel a churning in my stomach, a nervous excitement I don’t know that I felt even when Cal approached me earlier today.
Cal.
Holy crap! I haven’t thought about Cal at all in the last hour that I’ve been with Miller.
“Well
… I need to hurry and get back,” I stumble, ignoring his comment. “Addy thought I was close behind her after dinner and she’s probably worried about me.” Truth be told, Addy would only be worried because, depending on the news I bring her about Miller’s interest, she may have to change into a different outfit.
“Then I guess I’ll see you later at the bonfire.” Miller gives me a soft smile and walks back toward the dining hall while I
haul ass back to The Lodge.
I can only image how Addy is going to react when I tell her that Miller isn’t interested. I’ve told her that guys were interested, but too nervous to make the first move. I’ve even told her when the guy has been gay and she’s
still
tried to make a move. I swear Addy is the only girl I know who thinks she can change them! But I have never,
ever
told her that a guy was just flat-out not interested. Forget telling her that I could swear Miller was flirting with me! To Addy, that would be a sign of the end of days.
I make it back to The Lodge and find Amy and Matthew sitting on the front porch laughing. Last summer these two became great friends and were practically inseparable. It’s fun to watch them together.
“What are you two laughing about?” I ask.
“It’s Matthew’s birthday next week and we were just discussing how to make his
twenty-first extra special. Since we’re drinking every night at the bonfire anyway, we were tossing out ideas of who to prank and what to do. We think Dave is first and we’re thinking classic, like, floating bed on Lake Hollis. What do you think?” Amy explains. Apparently there is more to this story because neither of them can stop laughing.
“I think you can never go wrong with a classic prank, but
… have either of you considered who is going to carry him? The guy is linebacker huge!” I say with a laugh.
“Oh, there’s Cal. Maybe we can get him and his Notre Dame guys to do it!” Matthew says.
I turn and see Cal coming out of Gateway with one of the new girls. I haven’t met any of them yet so I don’t know who she is. I catch his eye and he smiles, leaving her behind like he doesn’t even know she’s there.
“Hey
, you,” he says. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“I was down by the embankment taking some test shots. Mr. Fellows asked me to be the official Lake Hollis photographer this summer,” I tell him excitedly. I don’t tell him about being there with Miller because I don’t want him to get the wrong impression. I can’t screw this up.
“Oh, that’s cool. You’ll have to take some pictures of me working the rock wall. Holding the rope for the kids really flexes this muscle,” he says with a smile as he actually flexes his arms. “And when those fat kids are up there! Whoa! That’s a workout!” Cal laughs and walks into The Lodge, leaving me there on the porch with Amy and Matthew.
“
Forget it. We’ll think of something else. I don’t want his help. That guy is such a douche!” Matthew says. Amy raises her eyebrows and nods in agreement.
“He’s not! He’s just
… confident,” I respond defensively and they both look at me with disbelief. “I gotta go. I’ll see you soon for the bonfire.”
I head upstairs and scurry past Addy’s room so I can put my things down and upload my test shots onto my laptop. The screen has just flickered on when Addy storms into my room. She’s changed her clothes and fixed her hair
… again.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demands as she stands above me, arms crossed. “Did you talk to Miller?”
“Geez! Simmer down, Addy!” I say, matching her tone. I hate it when she talks to me like this. “I was on my way to talk to Miller when Mr. Fellows stopped me. He asked me to be the official photographer for Lake Hollis. Isn’t that great?” I tell her, excited to share this awesome news with her.
“That’s great, Kinley. Now what about Miller?” Typical Addy. I try to believe she’s
going to be happy for me, but whatever Addy wants always trumps what I want.
“Right. Well, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but
… he said that you’re not really his type.” I half cringe as I wait for her response, completely unsure of what she’s going to do.
“What does he mean I’m not his type? I’m every guy’s type,” she says
, echoing my earlier sentiment. “You must have said something to confuse him.”
“What?
No! What could I possibly say that would confuse him? He’s seen you! It’s not like I told him your boobs were fake, and even if they were, like any guy would care!”
She takes a deep breath and I see the wheels in her head turning, formulating a plan. “Fine. So maybe he’s not the kind of guy who goes for super-hot and slutty.
Or … maybe he likes a lady in public and slutty behind closed doors,” she theorizes.
“Classy.”
“Oh, please, Kinley. If you think that guys aren’t like that then you clearly have no experience.” The last syllable has barely left Addy’s mouth when she stops and looks at me apologetically. “Oh, Kin … I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I tell her quietly. “It’s true.” It’s more than true and Addy and I have beaten this dead horse in conversation more times than I can remember. I’m
twenty years old and I’ve hardly even kissed a guy. I mean, I’ve kissed guys, but I’ve never
really
been kissed. That kiss that makes you weak in the knees because you know the lips that are pressed against yours belong to someone who knows you better than anyone on the planet; the one person you feel an eternal connection with, not a guy who keeps trying to shove his tongue down your throat and grab your boobs at the same time.