Chapter 59

“Let’s talk about our project,” Beck said, the moment I sat next to her in class.

“I’ve got a dish.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about. Do we still want to do what we planned? We still have a month before the first quarter project is due.”

“I’m happy with the concept, why would we change it?”

“Angels.”

I banged my head on the desk, “How do we photograph Angels?”

“I was thinking we could locate the statues of them at all the local cemeteries,” she explained.

“But the project is combining still life with action.”

“Right, one of us takes photos of the statues, and the other takes photos of the person taking the pictures.”

“Do you really want to spend the next month traipsing thru graveyards in October? The project is due November 3rd. Today is the 30th. October has two 3 day weekends, so we could do it, but still, is that what you want to do, chasing the newest fad?”

“It’s the same concept, you cooking then photographing the dish while I photograph you doing that. The only difference is that we get outside to do it,” she explained.

“After much research, over a period of weeks, instead of using a single day to complete the project.”

“Please?” she asked, batting her eyes at me.

“I’ll consider it, let me see if I can find a directory or listing.”

She did a fist pump into the air, “Yes, I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Beck,” I warned, “That’s not what I said. I’ll consider it.”

“This could be a book, Angels of Washington County.”

I banged my head on the desk again, “Beck, you’re killing me here.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine. Unless you hit yourself in the head too hard, but that’s not my fault.”

‘Adam, how many statues of angels are in the county?’

‘792 in graveyards, another 412 in churches, and other public buildings, 56 in miscellaneous other locations,’ Adam replied to me.

‘Why are there so many?’

‘It was a popular choice after World War Two for soldiers who did not have a body returned to their families,’ Adam explained.

“Beck, there’s an issue you might not understand,” I told her.

“What?”

“After World War Two a lot of the soldiers bodies were not returned to the United States. When their family put a grave marker up to remember them, it became popular to use an angel statue. There’s probably a lot of them, and we need to be extra respectful of them.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Maybe we should just stick to The Angels of Summerville.”

“I’m not comfortable trying to profit off of an angel sighting at an armed robbery. I’m willing to consider this, but only if we document which angel belongs to which person. Additionally, this is a school project, I’m not interested in doing a book.”

“Well we each have to take photos, do you object to me creating a book with mine?” she asked.

“It’s such a big task, are you sure you don’t want to save it for the end of the semester project?”

“You really don’t like it do you?” she said.

“I’m ambivalent, I need to do some research, maybe take a couple test photos. The project we agreed to do, I know. I have no trouble with the idea, and I think doing the dish I’ve picked is perfect.”

“What dish?”

“Soufflé.”

“I’ve never had that, so is it good?” she asked.

“That settles it, we are doing the original project. I’ll consider the Angel project for the end of semester. There’s no way I’m letting you go without experiencing soufflé one moment longer than necessary.”

“It would fit better, that final is supposed to be a photo collection.”

I gently dropped my head against my desk, resting it there, “That’s what you wanted in the beginning wasn’t it?”

“Of course, it’ll be much better getting the angels in the snow when we do the black and white photography collection.”

“Ok, let’s get the first quarter project done first, then we will look at the semester end project.”

“Deal!” she said, happily and gave the back of my head a rub, my forehead still on the desk. I just groaned in frustration while she giggled at me.

Friday I wore my t-shirt to school, much to June’s delight until she saw the back. She forgave me when I handed her one also. It was my size, so she just pulled it over what she was wearing. Bill, who had been amusing the class with his Clinton impersonations, immediately asked if that meant we were dating. June stormed off in reply.

Everything was fine until PE, when because of rain, everybody played basketball, except me. Coach Taft put me on the treadmill to gauge my speed, and left me there for the full class. Between change out, and getting organized it was only about 45 minutes. I clocked just under 9 miles to his delight.

“You ran your usual 10 already this morning?” he asked.

“If I don’t run I feel jittery all day.”

“You’re in the zone on the treadmill?”

“Right, if I get in the zone my pace evens out and I go faster. If I can’t get in the zone I spend too much time thinking about where my feet go, and it slows me.”

“How do you think you would do in a trail instead of a road?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never run a trail before. Is there one nearby I could try?”

“Just east of Summerville is a state park with a five mile running trail thru the woods. It’s one of the competition locations for the track team every year.”