say something, but just blubbered out an “Uh” followed by a few more unintelligible syllables. Marcus met my eyes. I felt like he couldsee right through me, not only about why I’d taken the picture but also my feelings for Josh. A rush of shame washed over me.
“It’s almost five o’clock,” sounded suddenly through the door, making me jump in place. It was Mr. Dewdney. I looked both ways, then down at the print I was still holding.
“We’d better clean up,” Marcus said. He must’ve realized exactly what kind of a person I am and was rethinking the whole friendship, I just knew it.
After an uncomfortably quiet good-bye, I jogged all the way home to work off my anxious energy. When I reached our street, I came to a dead stop, surprised to see Josh’s Civic in the driveway again. I caught my breath, then walked through the front door and slammed it. Sure enough, murmuring and footsteps emanated from the upstairs hallway.
I was halfway up the stairs when Claire’s door opened and Josh whisked by me with his eyebrows pulled together and an angry look on his face. He must’ve been in a hurry, because he was several steps past me when he muttered an “Oh, hey, Loann” back in my direction. I’d barely turned when our front door opened and shut behind him.
Claire was just inside her bedroom door, her hair all mussed. I suppressed an embarrassed smile, as if it had been me doing whatever they had just been doing.
“Oh.” Claire looked around dazedly. “Is Mom home?”
I shook my head. Claire backed into her room.
“She’s going to catch you if you keep it up, though, you know.”
Claire crinkled her brow. “I’m not—I won’t . . . It’s not . . .” she trailed off, closing her door between us midsentence.
Sheesh. She didn’t need to be so private. Not with me. Okay, I’d been a bitch about Josh being upstairs the other day, but only because of how she’d treated Marcus. Still, we used to tell each other stuff. She told me about her first kiss with Brett Watson in seventh grade. In fact, she’d told me way more than I’d wanted to know, back then.
Things had definitely changed between us lately, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted them to go back. Sure, it would be exciting to hear what was happening with Josh, but I kind of liked that I didn’t feel as hidden in her shadow. I was finding my own source of light. I still hadn’t discovered it completely, but I liked seeing things that other people couldn’t, like how I could envision from the moment I framed an object how a photo would look once it was developed. How I could see beauty where other people couldn’t. I thought, for the first time in my life, that maybe I was the special one.
* * *
I was feeling especially confident on Monday when the jocks paraded by our lockers and pushed Marcus again. Hard. One of them called Marcus his bitch.
I shot back, “Shut up! He’s straight, okay? Leave himalone.” The second it left my lips, I wished I could’ve come up with something a little more quick-witted. Laz stood behind the other two guys. He averted his eyes, but certainty washed over me that this would get back to Jasmine, and probably Claire. The other two guys laughed and made faces at me as they all took off down the hall.
I gave Marcus an understanding pat on the shoulder. His jaw went rigid and he turned the opposite direction and walked away.
Marcus didn’t say a word backstage during drama later that day, either. Not one word, and it took me a minute to realize why. He hadn’t just been embarrassed about being teased earlier. He was mad. At me.
“Sorry about this morning,” I said lightly. He still didn’t even glance in my direction. “So where should we start today?” I had been excited about the few pictures I had developed and was ready to start talking about how they would work with the play.
Without turning toward me, he said, “We haven’t checked that upper storage platform yet.