Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(15)
I wait for them to laugh at me, or shame me, or tell me to leave. But no one even bats an eyelash at my admission. “Whoa, is that the Mark III?” One of the boys across the table reaches out tentatively, picks up the camera, and turns it over in his hands. “I’ve been saving for one of these.”
Looks like my mom’s statement that it was a pretty good camera was pretty spot-on.
“I just read the reviews on that one!” a brunette with a light smattering of freckles across her cheeks pipes up from her place next to Jacob. “You’re definitely going to get some good shots with that. And Mrs. Conners could probably show you some of the controls if you need. She knows pretty much everything about cameras.”
“Mrs. Conners?” I look around the room for a teacher, surprised that I missed her when I came in. I’m usually good at picking out details like the presence of people. I need to be in my line of work. But there’s no one here except us students.
“She’s at a staff meeting right now. Technically, she organizes and runs the club, but she says it’s more enriching for us if we do things ourselves. Something about peer review or whatever,” Trin explains.
“Makes sense.” Things tend to stick with me better if I’ve done the legwork myself.
“So now we’re talking about a theme for this week. Davis thinks we should do a carnival theme, but Karen wants to do animals. No one else is sold on either of those, though. How about you? Do you have a theme you’d like to try?” Lacey leans around Trin to speak directly to me, though she talks loud enough for the whole group to hear.
It’s a weird feeling, being the center of attention, and all I want to do in that moment is to fade into the shadows. And there’s my theme—for the club, for my life. “Shadows?”
“Oh, I like that,” Trin chimes in immediately.
“Yeah, me, too.” Jacob leans forward with interest.
“Shadows.” Lacey chews on the idea for a moment, then says, “I know exactly what I could do with that. Okay, guys, what do we think? Wanna vote, or is everyone good with shadows?”
She’s answered by a chorus of voices, some more enthusiastic than others but all responding in the affirmative.
“Shadows it is then,” Jacob decrees.
After that, the group slowly starts to break up. The club members collect their respective pictures from the table, most tucking them into folders. I make a mental note to get my own for next time. One by one, the other clubbers leave, until it’s just Trin, Lacey, and myself.
Lacey busies herself pushing stools in under the tables and collecting loose items. “So, are you new to school, Mari?”
I nod while I mentally race through what to say. “Yeah, my mom and I just moved here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Where did you live before?” Lacey asks as she bends to pick up a paper from the floor.
Do I tell her the truth? Maybe it would have been a good idea to stay friendless, so I wouldn’t have to answer questions about my past. But what harm can it do to tell her where I moved from? “France,” I finally answer.
Both girls turn to look at me in surprise.
“Oh, how awesome! I’ve always wanted to visit France! I’m even taking French as my elective this year.” She sits a little taller on her stool and clears her throat before continuing. “Bonjour! Je m’appelle Trinity. Comment t’appelle tu? Well, I mean, I already know your name, but that’s basically all I know. Oh, or I can give you directions to ma maison or ask where to find les toilettes.”
“Do you speak French? Maybe you can teach poor Trin here so she can do more than just ask where the bathroom is.” Lacey pats Trin on the back in a teasing show of sympathy, and Trin gives her a melodramatic pout in response.
“We weren’t really there very long. So I don’t know a whole lot,” I answer honestly and pray they let the subject go quickly.
The door opens, and a thin, older woman walks in. Judging from the professional cut of her clothes and the stack of papers in her arms, I assume that this is Mrs. Conners.
“Hi, girls!” she calls to us as she circles toward her desk. “Is club over already?”
“Yeah, it kind of broke up early today; I think everyone was excited to get started on the new project theme,” Lacey answers. “Hey, Mrs. Conners, this is Mari. She’s new—to the school and to the club.”
“Welcome, Mari! I hope you stay with us. It’s a fun club, and we have some great kids.”
Lacey and Trin both agree while gathering their things. Then they make for the door, and I follow. Trin calls a goodbye over her shoulder, which Mrs. Conners returns.
A few minutes later, I exit the main building behind Trin and Lacey. I’ve never given photography a thought, beyond getting pictures of target pieces, until I made the decision to join the club, but now my brain is racing with a million ideas for pictures of this week’s theme.
I pull my phone out and check to see if I have any messages from my mom, but I’ve received no response to my texts from earlier, not the one from that morning letting her know I’d arrived to school safely and not the one from after school letting her know I was going to photography club. Nothing. A tickle of dread, a tiny niggling worry for my mother’s well-being, bubbles into something larger, something more obtrusive in my gut.