Candid (True Images Series) (3 page)

“Get off of me, crazy!”

I laughed and rolled to the side before pushing my wet, grassy feet under the warmth of her covers and pressing them against her bare leg. She screamed again and jerked her leg away from me, but she was finally awake now.

 She sat up and pushed her tangled mass of curly brown hair away from her eyes to glare at me. “Sienna, what in the world
are
you doing? Do you know what time I got to bed last night?”

I didn’t bother to answer. I held the paper out to her, the page folded so that she would see my photograph. “Can you believe it?”

“What? That Tyson Burkett is in the paper?”

“No, mom.
Look here,” I said, pointing to my name under the photograph.

“Picture courtesy of…. Sienna! This is your picture?
How?”

“The paper called me last night and asked if I had any. The editor really liked this one and he says he might want to set me up with a contract.”

“Really?
I’m impressed. Of course, you’ll have to wait till you turn eighteen in a couple months, but that’s fantastic, honey.”

I lay starring up at the ceiling, my gaze unfocused as I imagined the glories of my future career as a photojournalist. “It’s the first step, mom.”

She reached over and ruffled my hair. “No, the first step was when you swiped my Laundromat money to buy that old camera at the neighbors’ yard sale.”

“Oh, yeah.
You were pretty mad, huh?”

“Well, it wasn’t fun washing clothes in the sink for a month.”

“Like you never swiped the Laundromat money to buy paint or gesso or something.
We always had clothes hanging up around the house to dry back then.”

“Do I need to remind you how we finally managed to afford our own washer and dryer? By selling my paintings, remember?”

 “Yeah, sure I do. You traded two of them at the junk shop downtown for a used set that was rusted all over the top where the paint had flaked off.”

“But they worked!”

“Yes they did,” I agreed to pacify her. I decided not to remind her about symphony of knocking, shaking, and humming that they produced every time we ran them. You could hear it from the street. “Are you going to cook breakfast anytime soon?” I asked.

“No. Why do you think I taught you to open a box of cereal?” She flopped back down on her pillows and pulled her blanket up over her shoulders.

Knowing she wouldn’t get up again for hours, I got up to leave. Before I left though, I grabbed the pillow I’d been laying on and slammed it down on her head. Her only reaction was to wrap her arm around it and mumble, “Thanks.”

 Laughing, I went to get my breakfast. Several minutes later, I was eating a bowl of raisin bran with the morning paper propped up in front of me so that I could admire my work when a terrible realization hit me. Here was awesome publicity for my blog, and I hadn’t updated it in weeks.

My cereal forgotten, I raced upstairs and pulled up my blog. Looking up the stats, I saw that sure enough, I’d had more than the usual number of hits. It was still early though, so I had time to get a new post up.

I’d stayed up late organizing my photos from the game and running them through Photoshop to crop them or make minor adjustments to the lighting or contrast. It was a routine that took discipline, but with the enormous amount of pictures I took, if I didn’t do it immediately, I often didn’t get around to it. This wasn’t the first time I was relieved that I’d already done the hard work.

I uploaded the picture of Tyson with a simple caption that gave his name, when it was taken, and that it had been featured in the paper. Then I sat looking at the picture on my blog for some time.

As always, it amazed me how one picture could capture the essence of someone’s soul. Tyson was quiet, studious, and just plain nice. He was the opposite of the star quarterback persona – except that he was also good looking and athletic.

It was kind of bizarre that he wasn’t more popular than he was – kind of like Katie Edwards, my only ally among the cheerleaders last night. There was a definite popular crowd in our school, and these two were barely in it. Which was ironic to me, because they were both really good looking and had a lot of friends. The problem was that they were too nice to make the ruling class I sarcastically called the “pretty people.”

This was my senior year, and I still hadn’t figured out the whole popularity thing. I mean, didn’t people have to like you to be popular? From what I’d seen though, it really just meant that people either envied you or feared you. Basically, it was all about image.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks – Tyson’s image was wrong. It was time people knew he was more than just the quiet guy at the back of the classroom or the calm, dependable quarterback on the field. In my pictures, I had caught the depth of Tyson’s character. I doubt that many people had ever seen this side of him.

Every line etched in his expression showed the intensity of the emotions whirling through him, and the steely set of his clenched jaw showed his determination to control them so they could drive his performance. The combination of barely leashed emotion and a profile that belonged on a Greek coin would make the girls go crazy over him.

Maybe part of me was still writhing from Jordan’s accusation that I liked Tyson, but for a few moments I imagined Jordan as one of those love sick girls, drooling over his picture while never having a chance with him.

The last part was probably true anyway, even though she didn’t know it. I’d seen the way Tyson had been looking at Katie lately, and if he liked a sweet, intelligent girl like her, I was pretty sure he would never be interested someone
like
Jordan.

Wouldn’t it be too awesome if Tyson became one of the most popular
guy
in school? He sure deserved it more than the guys who were popular now. Plus, it would be the sweetest kind of revenge to make Jordan want something she couldn’t have, and if all the other girls in school were in love with him, she’d want him.

I bet I could make it happen too, if I could get enough girls to check out my blog. I just had to figure out how to do that.

I got up and paced around my room, thinking. My eyes wandered aimlessly around, barely seeing the collection of drawings and paintings by my mom that crowded my walls. When I faced the wall behind my bed however, I stopped and stared at it.

Over the years, I’d tacked up hundreds of photos I’d taken. It was basically just a collage of my work. One of them was a landscape I’d taken and had blown up to poster size. It was massive and drew my eyes like a magnet, even on the busy wall with so many other pictures competing for my attention. It was impossible to look at anything else.

With my eyes still glued to it, I knew I’d found the answer to my problem. If Tyson looked great in a small picture, how amazing would he look on a poster?

 Excited to get started, I sat back down and got busy. As I created the poster, I realized that my blog title was really lame. “Sienna’s Photography Blog” just wasn’t going to cut it. I thought for a few minutes, and then, with a jolt of inspiration, I came up with a title that reflected what I really wanted my blog to be about.

With a happy satisfaction, I pulled up the design tab for my blog and typed “True Images” into the title bar. After all, that’s what I was showing here - the essence of who Tyson really was.

I saved the file for the completed poster on a flash drive to take to work with me. I’d be able to print the poster in my free time between customers today. I couldn’t wait to see what kind of a reaction it got. I also couldn’t help but wonder if a sudden interest in Tyson would take some of the spotlight off the new guy on Monday.

Hah! Like that would happen. I knew the devastation Lee Franklin was about to inflict on the heart of every girl at school on Monday. If only I could keep the damage to my own heart minimal, it should be fun to watch.

*****

I got to school later than I’d planned on Monday morning. I wanted to catch Mr. Greeley before school started and set my plan in motion, but it had taken me longer than usual to get ready.

I hadn’t exactly meant to primp in front of the mirror for thirty minutes, but seeing the plain girl reflected there had been depressing. I just looked so… blah.

Usually, I only finger combed my wavy, strawberry blond hair and let it do whatever it wanted, but today, I’d put some effort into making it look nice. Then, instead of just powder and lip gloss for makeup, I put on some eye shadow. If it weren’t for Marisol forcing me into the makeup aisle at Target, eye shadow and I would be strangers to this day.

Not that it made much difference. Lee Franklin wasn’t going to fall in love with me because there was a little Caramel Dream and Chocolate Indulgence on my eyelids. I’d be amazed if he even remembered me, except maybe as the weird girl who’d thrown her hotdog at him Friday night.

I reminded myself that getting into a relationship with someone was out of the question until I’d graduated anyway. It was too risky. After all, I had big dreams to follow with my photography, and I didn’t need a guy getting in the way.

But my heart didn’t seem to care about being logical. This whole attraction thing was annoying.

I was twenty feet from the journalism room when the first bell rang. With no time to talk to Mr. Greeley, I decide to act now and ask permission later. Dodging back and forth through the crowded halls, I made my way to the bulletin board outside the journalism room. I rearranged all of the flyers and notices on it and stuck my poster in the center.

There wasn’t time to admire it or make sure it was straight. I took off in a near sprint through the now practically empty hall to my home room, grateful it was in this building. Hopefully the poster would generate some interest. I had to build up a strong following on my blog if my plan to popularize Tyson was going to work.

The first indication that my poster was getting some attention was at lunch. A tenth grade girl came up and told me she had just followed my blog. Since an enormous smile split her face, I knew exactly why she’d followed me. Well, one down, a couple thousand to go.

I pulled my phone out and texted Marisol to see what her plans were. She replied that she’d meet me at our usual spot under the giant oak tree in front of the cafeteria. I sat down on one of the benches there and pulled out my peanut butter sandwich while I waited. I didn’t expect to see her anytime soon, but she surprised me.

“Um, Sienna?
Why didn’t you tell me that you’d taken that awesome picture of Tyson? I so would have posted it on my Facebook page. Or would that have been too obvious?”

“So you have crush on Tyson now? What happened to Lee Franklin?”

“Who?
Oh, yeah, the new guy. What’s the point? I saw him in the hall after second hour, but I won’t be able to get near him for a few months at least. He had about three cheerleaders showing him where his next class was. But Tyson, he’s totally single and off the radar. I mean, I’ve known him since second grade and I never realized he was so hot.”

“I don’t think anyone has. I’m trying to change that.”

“Wait. Hold on there. What do you mean you’re trying to change that? If he gets too popular, I won’t have a chance with him.”

“Mari, don’t you ever get tired of people being judged on all the wrong things? What are the three most important things you look for in a guy?”

“Uh, let’s see…that he’s good looking, built, and that he likes me.”

“Wow, that’s pretty superficial.”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Look Marisol, let’s say you were dating, oh…Caleb Murphy.”

“As if that would happen.”

“Well, let’s say it did. I mean, sure he’s gorgeous, tall, and ripped like some kind of action figure, but he’s still a complete jerk. Would you really be happy dating him?”

Marisol considered it for a second. “Maybe he wouldn’t be a jerk to me.”

“Would you really like to date someone that was a jerk to other people?”

She considered it for a moment,
then
sighed. “I guess not.”

“See? Now take Tyson. I can’t imagine him hurting anyone unless they were wearing the football uniform of a rival school. It is totally crazy that Caleb is the most popular guy in school and Tyson is only noticed on the football field. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t rule this school, except that he’s quiet and too nice. He’s really good looking if you stop and look at him, but he’s not one of the “pretty people” around here. I think I can change that with these pictures.”

“Sienna, are you sure you want to mess with people like that? It could seriously backfire on you. If you mess with the popular crowd, you’re going to get dumped on.”

“I’ve thought of that, but who’s really going to care if Tyson’s suddenly more popular? If Jordan gets humbled a little, it’ll serve her right.”

“Wait, are you doing this to make Tyson popular or to mess with Jordan?”

“Uh, both?”

“Holy cow, you’re scaring me. Jordan Rubio could personally make your entire senior year miserable. And I’m pretty sure you’d catch it from Caleb too if he ever figured out you were the reason he wasn’t Alpha Male #1 around here anymore.”

“Well, I have to make Tyson popular first, so don’t worry about it yet. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? I make a few enemies my senior year while doing some good around here, then I’m off to college and I dust the poisoned dirt of high school off my feet.”

“What are you talking about? This is, like, the most important year of our lives. And we don’t get any do-overs. I didn’t know you had such a problem with the popular kids.”

“Yeah, well, I usually try to ignore them, but it’s always bothered me that they act like my best friend when I’m taking pictures for the school. It kind of makes me feel used, you know? But that’s not what this is about.  Though I will admit that ever since Jordan and her cheerleader gang ticked me off Friday night, I’ve
been wanting
to see them subject to a little social justice.”