Perfect Couple (16 page)

This time Brody moved his arm down from the back of the booth to my shoulder, with his hand holding my upper arm.

The camera flashed.

We peered at the screen. I was grinning at the camera. Brody was looking at me.

“Oh, God,” he said. “I look so lovelorn.” He sounded amused, not mortified like I would have been if I’d gotten caught gazing moonily at
him
.

“Or like you’re in pain from a possibly, probably not, broken finger.”

He laughed. “Or a concussion. Or indigestion. Sure.”

Sawyer arrived at our table. He did not have good timing. Brody and I both saw him in the same instant and tried to move away from each other. In such a small booth, there was nowhere to go. Brody removed his hand from my arm.

Sawyer laid our bill on the table very slowly, as if he was trying not to startle us again. “Whatcha doing?” he asked innocently. Sawyer was anything but.

I glanced at Brody. His lips were pressed into a thin line. He gave me a small shake of the head:
Don’t tell him.
But I was the world’s worst at coming up with lies, and I couldn’t think of another way out of this. The truth seemed like the best policy.

“We’re taking our Superlatives picture for the yearbook,” I admitted. “Want to see?” I slid the camera across the table.

Sawyer peered at the view screen. “Wow,” he said. “You’re trying to break up with your girlfriend and your boyfriend?”

I was sure my face flushed beet red. I didn’t dare look at Brody. I only told Sawyer, “The yearbook won’t come out until May.”

Sawyer put his tray down on the table and his hands on his hips. “Harper Davis, are you telling me that you’re dating
a guy you assume you won’t still be with in eight months? Why are you with him at all, then? Girl, life is too short.”

The truth was, I
did
assume I wouldn’t still be with Kennedy in eight months. I’d been cured of any expectation for the future yesterday, when I pictured us sitting together on a college quad. No, thanks. I didn’t want to admit this in front of Brody, though, when his long-term relationship with Grace wasn’t at issue.

I nodded to the camera and asked Sawyer, “You’re saying Kennedy would be mad if he saw this photo of Brody and me? We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Oh, sure,” Sawyer said. “You can tell the picture is taken here at the Crab Lab. You’ve shot all the others in the courtyard at the school. You’re making
me
take
mine
in the courtyard tomorrow. The only reason you’re taking this one here is so you two have an excuse to see each other alone.”

I opened my mouth to defend us, but nothing came out, because there was no defense. I hoped Brody could think of something.

He didn’t say anything either. He just slid his hand onto my thigh—not high enough toward my crotch to be dirty, but much more familiar than two people taking an innocent photograph for school. Kind of like patting my hand in reassurance as Sawyer gave me the third degree, except
on my thigh
.

Sawyer couldn’t see under the table. “To answer your question, Harper,” he said, “I don’t give fuck one what Kennedy thinks.” He turned to Brody. “I’ve had the pleasure of spending a lot of time with Grace lately during PE. She’s going to shit a brick when she sees this picture.” He picked up his tray. “There’s no charge.” He headed for the kitchen.

We watched him go, speechless.

“I think he meant no charge for the advice,” I finally said. “There’s no way he’s eating the cost of the food.” Reluctantly I slid off Brody’s seat and returned to mine, taking the camera with me. I pulled a few bills out of my purse.

“I’ve got it,” Brody said, opening his wallet.

“Let’s split it,” I suggested, “since it’s a fake date anyway.” I sounded bitter.

Closing my purse, I picked up the camera and glanced again at my favorite of the photos on the view screen, the one with Brody looking truly enraptured with me, or in great pain. “I don’t know. Maybe Sawyer’s right. Should we try taking this photo again somewhere else?”

“You tell me,” Brody said. “You’re the one who’s so concerned about what Kennedy thinks.”

I looked Brody in the eye. He held my gaze. A chill washed over me. Electricity zinged between us just as it had in the pavilion, even though now we weren’t touching. It sounded like
he was asking me to cheat on Kennedy with him, as if whether he cheated on Grace made no difference to him whatsoever.

But if that’s all he wanted, I couldn’t play along. I felt such a strong connection with him, way stronger than I’d ever felt with Kennedy. If he didn’t feel the same way about me—and he obviously didn’t, if he wanted to stay with Grace—we needed to take this relationship back to a friendly flirtation, where it belonged.

“I don’t have an idea for another photo right now.” I scooted out of the booth and stood.

“If you do,” he said, standing too, “let me know.”

*   *   *

I was left with the feeling that Brody and I were in a fight. But Brody didn’t do the silent treatment. The day after our non-date at the Crab Lab, he chatted with me in all the classes we had together, same as always. In fact, we talked more than I talked with Kennedy. Brody showed me his purple finger without the splint and told me it wasn’t broken. Kennedy only bugged me about my deadline.

The only way I could tell there was tension between Brody and me was that in study hall, he offered me a fist-bump but didn’t call me his girlfriend, even though Kennedy had stayed behind in journalism class again. Brody said “Hey,” not “Hey, girlfriend,” and that was it.

I wasn’t in study hall very long. As soon as Ms. Patel came in, I asked her to excuse me so I could mark some Superlative photos off my to-do list. I’d called several people who had stood me up for previous photo sessions and told them to meet me in the courtyard—or else. And then, wonder of wonders . . . they showed up! Being stressed out to the point of rudeness might wreak havoc on my nerves, but it was great for locking down these photos.

Halfway through my study hall period, I hurried into Principal Chen’s office. After Sawyer’s comment last night about all the Superlatives photos being taken in the courtyard except mine with Brody, I’d decided I’d better switch things up for some of the others. We had Ms. Chen’s permission to use her office while she was at lunch. I could take an adorable picture of Kaye and Aidan, Most Likely to Succeed, behind Ms. Chen’s desk. I’d asked Sawyer to meet me there too. I wasn’t sure what we would do for his Most Likely to Go to Jail photo, but surely there was something in Ms. Chen’s office he could steal or tag with graffiti. Sawyer would think of something.

When I arrived, Aidan already sat in Ms. Chen’s chair. Kaye stood nearby with her arms folded. “Harper,” she called sharply when she saw me, “you didn’t say
Aidan
should sit behind the desk while
I
stand by, ready to assist him, right? That’s not the message
I
got.”

“No,” I said impatiently. I had only fifteen minutes to snap this photo and Sawyer’s, or I would have to reschedule them for tomorrow. And I couldn’t do that, because I was photographing other people then. “Look, just—”

They both shifted their gaze over my shoulder. A six-foot pelican sauntered in behind me. Sawyer was dressed in his mascot costume. His backpack was slung over a feathered shoulder, and in one bird hand he held a tattered copy of the book we were reading for Mr. Frank’s class,
Crime and Punishment
.

“Sawyer,” I complained. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

He bobbed his big head.

The purpose of the photos was to capture the Superlatives as people, not hiding in a costume, especially when the costume included a foam bird head. But I was desperate to complete this mission, and I wasn’t going to let any of these three go while I had them. I didn’t dare send Sawyer to change. And I didn’t want him to strip, because underneath he probably had on nothing but underwear. Maybe not even that, knowing him.

I opened the blinds over the windows onto the courtyard. Sunlight flooded the office and glinted on the four-foot-tall sports trophies too big to be stuffed into cases in the lobby. Then I turned back to Kaye and Aidan. They were arguing
again. “I’m the president of the student council,” Aidan told Kaye haughtily. “You’re the
vice
president.”

“We’re
both
Most Likely to Succeed,” Kaye said. “We’re equal.”

“Not true,” Aidan said. “The class selected us for that title because we’re in charge of the student council. And in student council, I’m above you.”

“I hope to God that’s the
only
place he’s above you,” came Sawyer’s muffled voice from the depths of the foam head.

We all looked at him. I’d thought it was his rule to stay silent while in costume.

I couldn’t let this session devolve into a three-way fight. The two-way fight was already bad enough. I told Aidan and Kaye, “Let’s take some shots with Aidan behind the desk, then with Kaye behind the desk, then—You know what? Let’s kill two birds with one stone—”

“Hey,” said Sawyer.

“—and have both of you sit behind the desk at the same time. Kaye, sit in Aidan’s lap.”

“I don’t like Aidan enough right now to sit in his lap,” Kaye said. “Anyway, we would just be reinscribing the traditional patriarchal hierarchy of a man being in charge and a woman infantilized in his lap.”

“Yeah!” came Sawyer’s voice.

“Shut up,” she told him.

“Scoot over, Aidan,” I said. “Both of you sit on the edge of the chair and share it.” I would have given anything to be told to pose like this with Brody. It was sad that Aidan and Kaye were still dating but didn’t care anymore about the golden opportunity of sitting together in a chair. “Parliamentary procedure. All in favor?” I asked. “Aye—and my opinion is the only one that counts. I am on deadline with this shit.”

“Cussing in the principal’s office!” Sawyer managed to make his voice sound horrified even through the padding of his costume.

“I liked you better when you wore glasses and took orders,” Aidan told me.

Without adjusting the settings, I brought my camera up from its strap and snapped a quick photo in Aidan’s general direction. “There,” I said. “I’ve got a shot of you with your eyes bugged out and your mouth wide open. That’s probably all I need.” I turned to leave the office.

“You look great without your glasses,” Aidan said promptly, “and this newfound assertiveness becomes you.” Kaye was laughing.

I waited for them to get into position, then started taking pictures. I was focusing on their faces and snapping photos so fast that I almost didn’t notice the light had changed
and a sunbeam streamed white through the window. It took me a few frames to realize the light was actually Sawyer’s white costume. He’d walked behind Kaye and Aidan. All the shots had a giant pelican in the background.

A picture in the yearbook of Sawyer photobombing Kaye and Aidan would have said volumes about our senior class. But Aidan would resent it. Kaye would be hopping mad. And Kennedy had a sense of humor about his own projects, not mine.

“Sawyer!” I barked. “The white pelican is about to become an endangered species.”

He put his hands on his padded hips. “That is insulting,” he said, his voice thin behind the foam head. “All our large waterfowl are in danger because we’re destroying their wetlands. It’s not something to joke about.”

No topics were off limits for
him
to joke about. I suspected I’d found, for the first time, Sawyer’s sensitive spot. He was an animal rights supporter. Sawyer,
sensitive
!

That was okay. I was sensitive too. Kennedy had called me disorganized last Friday, and I was determined to prove him wrong. I pointed to a chair in front of Ms. Chen’s desk, where I assumed Brody sat when he got lectured for playing practical jokes and sentenced to on-campus suspension. I told Sawyer, “Sit down and shut up.”

He commanded everyone’s attention as he sat, wiggling his bird butt to fit it into the chair’s confines. He casually crossed one big webbed bird foot on the opposite knee and opened his copy of
Crime and Punishment
. I wasn’t sure which part of the bird head he saw from, but he appeared to be actually reading.

I snapped ten pictures of him. One of these would be perfect.

11

WHEN I FIRST GOT HOME from school, Mom was wearing paint-stained clothes and carrying a ladder, but then I lost track of her. I closed myself in my bedroom, sat down at my desk, and went right to work on the race photos for my website. I’d made a lot of progress on them the last two nights. I wanted to finish that night and send out an e-mail to the 5K racers saying that their photos were available for purchase.

Then I could get back to processing the Superlatives photos. I’d scheduled my last few photo sessions for tomorrow during school. I could continue fixing the photos over the weekend. I assumed I would meet Kennedy and our friends at the Crab Lab after the game Friday night. He’d also invited me to a jazz concert in the park on Saturday,
which sounded suspiciously like we would be the youngest ones there. That happened on a lot of dates with Kennedy. But if Tia was right about Kennedy’s pattern of picking a fight with me before our dates, we wouldn’t go anyway.

I suspected I knew what the subject of the fight would be too. My photo of Brody, Will, and Noah took up half the front page of the day’s local paper.
PHOTO BY HARPER DAVIS
was printed in the bottom corner. I was so proud. And I was afraid my admiration for Brody shone through in that shot. Even if it didn’t, I’d gone out on my own and sold my work to a publication outside school, something Kennedy had never been able to do, despite all his attempts to submit movie reviews and peevish columns about tourists. Either way, he was likely to be pissed with me.

So be it. Frankly, I was getting pretty disillusioned with dating. My boyfriend annoyed the crap out of me, and the guy who made me feel like heaven didn’t want to be my boyfriend. Anyway, if Kennedy decided to give me the silent treatment again, that would free up plenty of time for me to perfect the yearbook photos and turn them in to him by Monday. I would get the rest to him on a rolling basis, as he’d requested, so he could complete his (awful) layouts. At the end of the week, he would have them all, and he could put the section to bed by the deadline.