Once Dead, Twice Shy

CHAPTER 8

The wind shifted the purple tips of my hair in front of the camera, and I waited until it cleared. I slowly followed Josh's loping body around the track, zooming in as he rounded the turn and I could see his face. He breathed in, and I snapped the shot, immediately moving the camera from my eye to see what I'd captured in the viewing screen.

I couldn't help my smile. He looked suitably tortured, eyes pinched and mouth open. Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. Behind him were the blurry and colorful shapes of the other runners. In the foreground was a hazy ball of light anyone else would say was a camera artifact, but I knew it was Grace. Josh would be glad to see some evidence of her.

The sound of running feet pulled my attention up. "Looking good, Josh!" I shouted, and I got a quick wave in return. He wasn't as tired as the picture indicated. And it wasn't a race. The track team was simply making sure someone was on the field at all times, sort of a daylong marathon. At the outside of the track was a much slower-moving group of nonathletes. It was as much a social event as anything else, and I could hear the ladies talking about their kids as they power walked, earning dollars per lap to help buy a new activity bus.

I raised my camera and got a shot when one of the women laughed, catching her in a moment of happiness. Their participant badges were clearly visible, and I toyed with the idea of showing it to Ms. Cartwright to see if she wanted to use it in next year's promotion.

Turning, I spotted Covington High's girls' track team stretching under the shade of the birch trees. Colorful gym bags littered the grass, and I took a few shots, making sure Amy was not looking her best. Zooming in, I focused on the bandage over her purple nose, bruised and swollen, thanks to Grace, and with a grin, I took a really bad one with her mouth hanging open.

"Never tick off the photographer," I whispered, feeling good about catching her in more than one awkward, unflattering pose.

I'd been taking pictures now for about three hours and I was starting to get tired, even as my long-fallow photography muscles enjoyed the workout. The camera card I'd bought yesterday had been a godsend. I'd already filled it up once, taking time to dump everything into the printer before clearing it out and going back in search of more timely moments.

"Like that one," I whispered when I saw a man holding his child close and high to his face. He was pointing to one of the walkers on the field, and the baby, a girl by the looks of the bow and frills, was following his gaze. The man's face glowed as he talked to his daughter. Behind them was a stroller with a huge diaper bag shoved under it and a handful of toys tied to the front bar.

I took a picture of the stroller just because I thought it was cool that something so small needed so much stuff, then focused on the man and his child, waiting until the little girl recognized to whom he was pointing and made a delighted, wiggling gurgle. I snapped it, and the man turned as the camera whined.

I smiled, checking to make sure the ID tag Ms. Cartwright had given me was showing. "I'm taking photos to support the school," I said for the umpteenth time today. "Would you like me to print this for you? I can have it ready in about an hour."

His suspicion evaporated, turning into delight when I extended the back of the camera for him to see. "I didn't even know you were there," he said, jiggling the girl. "That is beautiful. How much?" He shifted his child to reach into his back pocket, and I waved my hand no.

"We're asking for a dollar, but you pay when you see them," I explained. "I've got them up at the green tent." The thump of fast feet came and went behind me, and the little girl squirmed, looking over my shoulder to follow the runners with her eyes.

"I'll be there," the man said as he scrambled to hold her. He gazed at the happy infant, saying in a falsetto, "Mommy will love to have a picture of us." His love for his daughter was still in his eyes when he turned back to me. "Thank you. I always forget to bring my camera to these things. Diapers, bottles, toys, and her snuggy, but never a camera."

Nodding, I gave him a reminder ticket before I waved at the cooing girl and walked away. It felt good to be out doing something instead of moping about in my room like it was a prison, missing my old friends. Yesterday at the Low D with Josh had been nice, even with Amy butting in and the looming trouble with Kairos. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be with someone and not afraid to be who I really was. Today, the sun was warm, the air was cool, and I was busy spending my dad's money on ink and paper. It didn't get much better than that.

From the nearby trees, I heard Amy shout an attention-getting, "Hi-i-i-i, Josh!" and I glanced up to see him run by again. Parker was out there with him now, and it looked like they were talking. I went to take a picture of them, but a card full message popped up.

"Cripes," I said with a sigh, then headed to the tent where I'd set up my table. Ms. Cartwright was really nice, not blinking an eye at my purple hair tips and skull earrings when she had given me a table where I could tape up some of the miscellaneous pictures that no one would likely claim.

"Madison! Is my picture done yet?" a tired, matronly voice called out, and my gaze went to a fatigued woman with three dusty boys. She looked ready to call it a day. I had a beautiful photo waiting of her and her boys on the merry-go-round before they'd worn her out and gotten cotton candy on their clothes. The sun glinting on the gold paint had matched their hair, and the straight up-and-down lines contrasted beautifully with the curling manes and bright paint on the horses. Side by side, the family resemblance that had changed little from age to age was striking. I'd printed out a second one for me just because I liked it.

"It's ready," I said, gesturing to the tent, but she was busy holding the two youngest apart as they argued about the goldfish they had won.

"I'll be along," she said quickly, then raised her voice to tell them they were going to kill the fish if they kept jiggling it like that.

No one even noticed me as I slipped inside the tent and wove my way to the back table. The shade was a welcome relief, and I eased in behind the long table to settle into my chair. A pleased sound escaped me when I realized a good portion of the photos were gone, even the ones that I'd thought no one would want. Happy, I plugged the camera into the printer and told it to print everything. It felt good to have my efforts appreciated.

The photos began coming out one by one, and I busied myself arranging them on the table so people could find them. A shadow fell over me, and I looked up when Ms. Cartwright said admiringly, "Oh, I'll take that one." She reached for the picture falling into the hopper, adding, "Howard's my brother. I'd love to give that to him for his birthday. It's wonderful."

I glanced at a picture of a man sitting in the dunk tank, casually talking to someone in the crowd. He was dripping wet, and a blur of a ball was headed right for the target. What would happen next was obvious. "Really?" I asked, gratified. "Thanks," I added, handing it over.

She smiled at it briefly, her tired green eyes traveling fondly over the photo. "No, thank you. He's hard to buy for," she said as she tucked a long strand of hair that had escaped her thick ponytail behind an ear. "And this is a nice one of Mark," she said as the photo of the man and the little girl at the track came out. "He owns the car wash. He doesn't get a chance to be with Jem much. That's what they call their daughter. Jem." Her expression brightened and her fingers traveled over the pictures. "And Mrs. Hall. Oh my, look at that shoe size. No wonder she didn't pick her photo up. That hoof is front and center."

I fidgeted, embarrassed, but it was cool hearing about the people I'd been stealing bits of life from. It made me feel like I belonged somehow. I couldn't help but wonder if that was what I had been trying to do today—capture life because mine had basically stopped and the world hadn't. Continuing on without me. Circling like the seasons.

Looking closer, I squinted, wanting to take the picture out into the sun. It was almost as if I could see a shimmer about her. Her aura? Nahhh. "I thought the way the purple of the balloons went with the soles of her shoes was neat," I said, trying to explain why Mrs. Hall's back was so fascinating. Neat? I think it's neat? God! I am such a nerd.

"It is." Ms. Cartwright smiled at the photo of someone's van, the back doors open to show it was crammed to the top with undelivered papers. "You have a real knack for composition. Seeing what matters. What we miss if we don't slow down."

Another picture rolled out of the printer, and I set it on the table. "Thanks. I belonged to the photography club in my last school. I guess I picked up more than I thought."

Ms. Cartwright made an interested sound. "You're not on my class list. Why not? You have an eye for this."

She's the photography teacher? "Uh, I don't know," I said, suddenly nervous.

The woman's eyebrows arched, and she set the picture of Mrs. Hall down. "Oh-h-h-h, you're one of those, are you?" she said, and I stared blankly. "You don't want to be labeled a geek, so you color your hair purple and avoid anything that says you're smart."

"No," I said quickly, but she made a knowing face at me, and I rolled my gaze to the dusty ceiling. "Photography class is almost as bad as the chess club," I protested, and she laughed, taking up the next photo as it came out. I had a feeling the photography club hadn't helped in my quest for popularity at my old school. I didn't think it would help me much here, either. But why was I even trying for the popular crowd anymore?

"Reconsider it, Madison," she said as she scrutinized a photo. "There's a lot of talent here. I've been looking at what you've been doing, and you're capturing life in a way that is uniquely beautiful; even the ugliness is beautiful. That kind of an eye is hard to develop, if you'll pardon the pun. You might be able to get a scholarship if you applied yourself."

I was dead, yeah, but I'd probably still have to go to school and get a good job. If I was going to live forever, I'd rather do it in a nice house than in an alley. "Do you think?" I asked her, wondering if I could make money doing something I loved. It almost didn't seem fair.

Ms. Cartwright set down the photo when another woman began looking over the pictures. Recognizing her, I pointed hers out. Her ooh of delight made me smile, and she lingered before going to pay for it, laughing at pictures of her neighbors.

"I'll talk to the counselor and get you into my advanced class," Ms. Cartwright said to bring my attention back. "You'll be a senior this year, right?"

A thrill ran through me. Senior. I liked the sound of that. "Okay," I said. "You convinced me." I was happier being myself—purple hair, loud music, dead, and everything—than trying to fit in with the Amys. And I didn't think that Josh would dump me just because I wasn't in the cool crowd. Not that we really were anything.

She nodded, sliding down to take the photo of Josh, one of the first to have printed out. "Another one of Josh?" she said, smiling. "Wow, you did good here. Did you take this from the bleachers?" I nodded, and she murmured, "Steady hand. Too bad about the glint of sun in the picture. Funny. Those don't usually show up when the sun is at that angle." She frowned, bringing the picture to her nose. "Something about this one makes me uneasy. The pinch of his eyes, perhaps…" Her shoulders lifted and fell. "It might be the crows in the background. My grandmother would chase them off her roof all the time. She hated crows."

My face stiffened. Crows?

Ms. Cartwright set the photo down. "You did great today, Madison," she said with a smile. "People have been giving more than the requested donation. You brought in over two hundred dollars."

There hadn't been any crows at the track—had there? Grace had been right there with Josh. I'd seen her.

"Better than the dunk tank," Ms. Cartwright was saying. "Howard will be disappointed. He's usually the big draw. Why don't you call it a day?" she suggested. "Go enjoy yourself. They're about to read the totals. You should find Josh and stick around for the party. There will be dancing…."

She gave me a final smile and was pulled away by a nervous woman holding a handful of tickets. I hardly noticed her leaving, and I snatched up the last picture I'd taken of Josh. Those weren't crows in the background; they were black wings. They were in the distance above the tree line, but that was what they were.

Frantic, I looked out from under the tent to search the line the trees made with the sky. Nothing. I could only see a small slice of heaven. Something must be wrong. Grace was supposed to be watching him, but there were black wings, and where there were black wings, there were reapers. Or Kairos. If he was here, I'd never know it. Grace's job was to protect Josh, not tell me when there was trouble.

In a surge of motion, I disconnected my camera from the printer. The pictures were already in the queue, and after making sure there was enough paper in the hopper, I slipped out under the ropes at the back of the tent. I had to find Josh.