Chapter 17: Everybody’s Friend

Maybe it wasn’t Pete?

The next morning I considered confronting Lara about my suspicion. I was heading to her room when I realized that it was actually none of my business. I had no proof and it seemed unlikely that she wouldn’t be out with Pete, after all. Who would she have dragged to the cabin for an illicit fuck besides him? Still, her response to the whole thing had me privately wondering. Was she cheating on Pete? Or was something else going on? Nothing about her reaction to the event made sense.

On the bus the following day, I tried to probe Pete’s whereabouts on Saturday night. He was vague and nervous, but that could have been because he actually had been at the cabin and was worried about getting caught. I debated checking with Heather on it, but it seemed uncool to start making accusations like that about Lara. Eventually I filed the whole episode away. If I was wrong, then Lara would never forgive me, so it was best to let it go. Sometimes my sister was simply inexplicable. I had other things to worry about than chasing ghosts.

The photo projects were due at the end of the week. I spent some late nights in the dark room trying to perfect some of the exposures, ultimately frustrated by the choices I’d made with the camera at the time of the shoot. Why didn’t I put her against the other wall? Why hadn’t I moved her out of this beam of sun that seemingly slashed her throat on every frame? Developing could only do so much. I started to see how getting from live subject to hanging print was one big chain, with each process affecting all the others. Heather knowingly understood my complaints.

“So is it done?” she asked.

“Has to be,” I said. “It’s due tomorrow.”

“Good. Then maybe we’ll have some more time to talk to each other?”

I winced. “I know. It’s been crazy here. If only I had a speakerphone up in the darkroom.”

“That would be cool! I understand, though. I’m just starting my next photo project.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s called Trilogy,” she said enigmatically.

“Trilogy. Okay.”

Heather was silent on the other end.

“And?” I eventually asked.

“And nothing. That’s all I’ve figured out so far. But it’s going to be a challenge.”

“What are you taking pictures of?”

“Not sure yet.”

I laughed. “But you already have a name?”

“Hell yeah! And a plan, too. But, no firm details yet.” She was obviously keeping something from me.

“Fine, be mysterious.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see it. I’m sure of that. Anyway, there’s that, and then I have a ton of studying to do, too. Exams are next week.”

“Same here. Can’t wait until that’s done,” I agreed. “Then it’ll only be less than two weeks until I come down.”

“I’m back to counting the days,” she said.

“Me too,” I said, although I suddenly realized I hadn’t really been keeping track. Luckily it was the first of the month, so I very quickly added, “Twenty-one days!” after glancing at the calendar.

“More than halfway there!”

Indeed. She felt a million miles away. When I had the time to think about it, though, I couldn’t wait to see her.

I hadn’t seen much of Shannon since the ballet shoot because she’d been out of class, presumably sick. When I passed her in the hall the next day, I realized I’d never showed her any of the photos.

“Hey Matty, where are my pics?” she asked, slapping my arm playfully.

“Where are mine?” I rejoined with a grin.

“I’m printing at lunch today!”

“Really? Nothing like waiting until last second!”

“I had some kind of pneumonia or something. It was rough.”

I winced. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s gone now, don’t worry. But, I’m way, way behind!”

“Need any help?”

She smiled sweetly. “Nah, Jane is already going to give me a hand. I guess we’ll surprise each other today in class.”

“Can’t wait!”

“Me neither!”

Later, when we arrived in the art room, Jane had set up some pin boards along the long wall. We mounted our projects for display. I was slightly self-conscious at the effort, since I’d put some time into making my project have some structure. Three photos went together as a trio and another two were similarly related, so I loosely arranged them in the shape of Shannon’s body. As I looked at the much more restrained efforts of my classmates, I felt like I was photographically overdressed. Cringing slightly, I noticed that I was the only one with a project title, too. Still, I did my thing and sat down. Shannon was last to enter, apparently coming straight from the darkroom to mount prints that may have still been slightly damp.

Jane was making her way along the row, taking in the different projects: a soccer player in school uniform, a pianist, an actress on the auditorium stage. The quality was all over the map. Some pictures looked like outright mistakes, but probably made the cut because of time constraints, or the crazy thought that maybe they were cool and artistic. Then again, perhaps I was being harsh. Not everyone had the luxury of their own darkroom or even their own camera for that matter. And they’d probably stuck to their allotment of film and not abused their access to Murph’s.

Shannon had finished posting hers. I could see some of the pictures she’d chosen. Like her first time-lapse project, her shots were full of movement. There were all kinds of blurred shapes from Carl and the other guys, and yet I was crisply standing in the middle of this maelstrom, sharp as could be. It was a very neat effect, smartly highlighting the subject of the shoot while maintaining the context of the band.

I spent a good deal of the viewing time with Shannon at my side, excitedly looking at each other’s picture sets. Jane joined us when we were standing at my board.

“Lovely work, Matt,” she said. She pointed at the photo with the gray blobs. “How did you do this one?”

I grinned sheepishly. “Dumb luck. It was basically night when I shot it, and I just exposed it for a long time with the high contrast filter.”

“Nice. Did you do all these at home?”

I nodded. “I hope that’s okay. It’s just easier to mess with things there, since I can take my time a bit more.”

Jane smiled. “Of course it’s fine. There are plenty of people wanting to use the darkroom here,” she nudged Shannon, “so it’s no problem working at home if you can. Takes some of the pressure off.”

“Cool. I’m blowing all my allowance on it, but I have to say, it’s really fun. Favorite class,” I gushed.

Jane smiled. “I’m glad. I wish I could give you some supplies to help out, but the administration frowns on that. Anyway, good work, both of you, as usual.” She went off to the next student.

Shannon looked at my photos again. “Clara really would love to see these.”

“Your teacher?”

“Yeah. You should bring them by. And she might even be able to help with money for supplies.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“She recently said she’s looking for someone to help out around the studio with some maintenance projects. Maybe you can do some work for her. I’m sure she’d pay decently. I make good dough there teaching some of the kids’ classes.”

I shrugged. “All right, I’ll try to get over there next week.”

I met Clara at her studio one day after school, taking the bus that went into town instead of my usual one. Shannon had set up the meeting, but then told me she couldn’t be there. I was feeling a little awkward as I approached the house on my own. This was heightened by the gaggle of parents that were loosely gathered around the entryway. I was about to knock when Clara opened the door. Twelve small children dressed in pastel ballet outfits poured out cacophonously, passing around me like waves around a pier post.

“Matt! Come on in, I’m just finishing up.”

I made sure the way was clear of toddlers and then stepped into the foyer.

“Have a seat at the table in the living room. Let me get these kids out of here and I’ll be right in.”

I found myself in a room that was somewhat frilly by any standard. Portraits of dancers hung on the walls here and there, most of them personally signed to Clara. A light blue-and-white-striped flag with a sun in the middle hung on one wall. An ornate hutch was full of florid tea pots and matching gold-leafed cups. Many little knickknacks adorned all the horizontal surfaces of the room, supported by finely crocheted doilies. On one prominent sideboard, there was an old black button accordion splayed open into a half-round, topped by an old faded picture of a couple, the man holding a baby in his arms.

“Can I get you some tea?” she asked, approaching with a pot in hand.

“Um, no thank you.”

She sat next to me at the table and smiled as she poured herself a cup. “Shannon says you produced a very nice set of photos?”

“I think they turned out okay. Not the greatest, but not bad.”

I pulled the set of prints from my bag, rejecting the thought of trying to spread them out onto the table in imitation of my display in class. Instead, I simply handed them to her. She took her time examining them, murmuring appreciative sounds as each new one was revealed.

“These are very nice! Shannon will be glad to have these, of course, but you also captured an essence of the piece with the pictures you chose.”

“Thanks. Can’t say I really know too much about dancing, so I just went with what looked interesting.”

“Mmm. Yes, you have a good eye, then.”

After we spent a little time discussing the project in more detail, she placed the photos on the table. “Can I keep these?”

I looked at the stack. It was my primary set. I could print others, but I didn’t really have the time or supplies to cover it. We had another project for class starting and I had a feeling it was going to involve many photographs as well. Besides, I would need the set for the school art show in January.

“I could let you borrow them, but I still need them back for a show early next year.”

“A show? At a gallery?”

I laughed nervously. “No, just a little thing for the art classes.”

“Nice. Then can I buy an extra set from you?”

I looked at her. “I don’t think I could do that. I wouldn’t feel right.”

“How about I buy you the supplies and you print another set? And between you and me,” she added, making her voice low, “you can keep the extra supplies?”

I considered, remembering Shannon’s words. “Well, maybe. I don’t want to come across weird, but also, Shannon said you might be looking for someone to help with some fix up jobs? Maybe we can do a trade?”

Her face moved through a frown and into an amused smile. “That sounds great to me, Matt. But how exactly would it be a trade?”

“I’ll do some of the work you need and then I’ll...”

“Also give me some photos?” she finished.

I felt some heat rising to my face. “That was dumb.”

She laughed a little. “No, it was funny, Matt. Are you looking for some work?”

“I guess. I’ve really been getting into photography lately, mostly doing it outside of school, at my house. My dad used to take photos, so I have all his old equipment now, luckily. Still, it costs money to get the supplies.”

“Then let’s do this,” Clara suggested. “I’ll buy you some supplies for another set of prints. There’s no hurry to do them, so don’t worry. Wait until winter break, if you want. And also, when you want to come by and do some odd jobs, I’ll pay you for your time. It’s nothing hard. A little painting touch-up, some cleanup of the shed out back, and so forth. I haven’t really had time to get the property up to par since I bought it a few years ago, you see. It’s been hard enough getting the ballet studio started and running. So I could use a hand around here to make it nicer.”

I nodded. Her place looked pretty nice, I thought. “That’s really kind of you, Miss ... I actually don’t know your last name, sorry.”

“Just call me Clara, please.”

“Okay. Well, I better get going. My folks were going to meet me at the photo shop in a little while. Sounds like I need to pick up a few things.”

Clara moved to the kitchen counter and pulled out a fold of bills from a jar. “How much do you need for the extra prints?”

“Um, I don’t know. It’s eleven pictures. Each sheet probably works out to—”

“No, just tell me how much a pack of paper and whatever else you use costs?”

I started to calculate out loud, but she simply gave me forty dollars.

“Here, is that enough?”

“That’s way too much for just a few prints!” I protested.

Clara pressed the money into my hands. “For your time, too. Best get going so your parents don’t get worried.”

I didn’t feel there was room for any more protest. “Thanks. I’ll get these prints done soon for you.”

“No hurry. Let me know when you might want to do some of the other jobs, too. Here’s my number.”

She handed me her studio business card. A minute later, I was striding down the street toward Murph’s feeling rich and satisfied, but also a little overwhelmed.

The weekend presented our band with the first opportunity to play a gig, of sorts. In actuality, it was just the semi-regular Saturday gathering at Bri’s house, except that he asked us to play for a bit. Bri’s house always seemed to be the place to congregate, since his dad worked night shifts and his mom seemed oblivious to the possible activities that went on in the basement. Apparently, she had no sense of smell, being a long time smoker. In addition, Brian’s brother, who had graduated in the summer, provided us easy access to beer and, more recently, weed.

We were excited to play, but also a little apprehensive. I’d been working with Lara a bit on learning the songs that the four of us guys already knew, but we’d had only one band rehearsal all together since her ‘audition’. We’d planned a brief warm-up rehearsal at my house on the day of the party, but then Carl got lazy about moving his drums one extra time, so he bagged. Pete, Lara and I still got together to practice, so not all was lost.

That night, my mom drove Lara, I, and our gear over to Brian’s house. She wished us a good time after chatting with Brian’s mom for a few minutes. For lack of anything better to do, we started playing once we were set up. The usual suspects from our school straggled in. They were happy to see that there was live music this week. We had a low key jam, having to keep the volume down after the first song attracted Brian’s wide-eyed mom into the basement with her hands over her ears. Though she couldn’t smell anything, she definitely had a sense of hearing.

After her second intrusion – Carl could only control himself so much – we decided to call it an evening. Brian realized that it was dangerous to have her appearing so often without warning. Although it was usually rare to see her even once on any given evening, Brian could always tell by the sounds of the house when she was approaching. He’d usually have plenty of time to give warning to anyone openly carrying anything illicit. With the band, though, he had no chance, so a few people were standing around bearing suspicious items when she’d appeared the second time. Luckily she was concerned with the music and she didn’t notice anything untoward.

Not wanting to be the reason for a parental bust, we turned off the amps after that. We all filtered outside the door to the sloping backyard, quietly discussing the gig.

“Sounded good, dudes!”

We looked at the rather short kid who had approached us. I’d seen him once before at Bri’s, but he didn’t go to our school. He looked younger than us in some way, but also seemed like he had the confidence of a much older kid.

“Thanks,” we replied.

Handshakes and such went around.

“I’m Jonah. Y’all been playing for a while?”

“Yeah,” Carl answered. “First time out with this new setup, though.”

“I just started singing with them,” Lara explained.

“Nice. Not too many girl singers in good rock bands, seems. Do you play parties often?”

We looked at each other. “Not too much. As you can tell, it can get kind of loud.”

Jonah laughed. “True, yo. What would it take to get you to come play a party at my place?”

“Probably wouldn’t take much,” Carl muttered. We all laughed in agreement. “What’s the deal?”

“My dad goes out of town pretty often, and I usually have some people over to the house. Having some good tunes would be great. I love Jane’s Addiction, so I’m definitely down with your stuff.”

“Sure, when are you thinking?” Carl asked.

“A couple of weeks from now? Thanksgiving weekend?”

The excitement I was feeling at the offer suddenly dropped out from under me.