The Photographer (3 page)

“Sure he likes me. We're good friends.” Megan was used to Cynthia's being an incurable romantic.

“Okay, maybe Derrick will ask you when I turn him down.”

“He'll be taking pictures too.” Megan reminded her.

“Oh, you. Sometimes I think you're already married to that camera. There is more to life, Megan.”

“Yeah, homework. Go get ready to see Gus, Cynthia. I'm going to be up all night as it is.” Megan laughed at Cynthia and hung up. She had known that Cynthia and Gus would get back together.

She stopped laughing immediately. She would like a date to the dance, she realized. Even if she was going to be working, taking photos. You're feeling sorry for yourself, she told herself. She hated it when that happened. Put all Cynthia's romantic ideas away immediately, she ordered. And study. She was behind in everything. Maybe she
would
study all night instead of going to bed early. Or she'd keep at it until she was too tired to dream.

A realization worse than no date for the dance came into her mind. It expanded and pushed out all other thoughts. The dreams. Suddenly the idea of going to sleep had become frightening.

Chapter 4

Derrick had made a habit of picking up Megan on Tuesday mornings. She'd slept heavily and gotten up late, so there was no time for breakfast. She stood on the curb, waiting, sipping a cup of Red Zinger herb tea. She had tucked an orange into her shoulder bag for peeling while they tackled the Friday edition. Her sleep had been without dreams, so she felt much better.

Derrick screeched to a stop long enough for Megan to pull herself into the passenger seat. He didn't speak, his pause for her to jump aboard his only acknowledgment that she existed. Megan made no attempt at small talk. She would have liked to ask Derrick about his inviting Cynthia to the Homecoming Dance. She knew, though, he'd never answer any questions about his personal life—if he had any personal life—so she kept quiet. Derrick looked especially tired, as if he'd been up all night.

The meeting started off quietly, but Robert, editor of
The Owl
, was a morning person. He was skilled at waking up his staff and getting them excited about the next week's paper. He talked about pieces written for Friday, nagged those behind on deadlines, and handed out assignments for the next edition.

“Derrick, will you photograph the Homecoming ceremonies at the game? Let's do a photo piece on the queen and her attendants. The annual will want copies, don't forget.”

Bunny Browne was waking up. Megan marveled that she even attempted the newspaper work, but then journalism class was easier than chemistry or algebra.

“Shoot me first, Derrickie-poo.” Bunny ran her hands through Derrick's kinky hair. He flushed slightly but gave Bunny a withering look, almost as if he hated her. Megan hid a smile. Bunny was too insensitive to realize Derrick's reaction.

Derrick didn't say much aloud, but his expressive gray eyes revealed his thoughts and feelings. Megan figured she was the only one who noticed. Certainly not Bunny, Homecoming Attendant, thinking about her picture in the paper again or the annual. Bunny never considered that any guy might dislike her.

Bunny went on. “We're practicing in the gym with our dresses today at noon. I can pose in the courtyard, Derrick.”

Robert left it to Derrick to make appointments with those he wanted to photograph. “Megan, you and I can shoot the football game. Try for some really great action shots.”

Megan nodded, pleased. She loved running up and down the field, capturing the action. She would have hated Derrick's “beauty” assignments.

“Now, the week after Homecoming is always a letdown,” Robert continued. “What can we do to jazz it up?”

“Why don't we let Megan do an article on India and use some of her pictures?” David Mews said.

“No one is interested in travel articles.” Megan wanted to forget India. “We should stick to local news.”

“How about an article about superstitions in various cultures. You know, the photo-soul idea and others like that?” David always had good ideas. He would brainstorm until one hit the fancy of the group.

“We can combine some local stuff with Halloween, then photograph Halloween on the mall for a follow-up issue.” David got excited.

“That's not a bad idea, David.” Robert was thinking out loud. “How about combining it with local people's superstitions? We can interview the mayor, teachers, local celebrities about their favorite superstitions.”

“Boulder is not without some weird people and ideas,” said Miss Hubbard, laughing. “Especially when you've moved here from Straight-City USA.” Miss Hubbard had moved to Boulder from the midwest. She'd been carefully conservative herself until the staff managed to loosen her up a little last year. But only a little. Fortunately, she usually went along with staff ideas.

“I'll say. What other small city has a witch's shop across from the university?” David laughed.

“And psychics listed in the phone book?” Robert stood up and paced the floor. “I think we're onto a good story now.”

“I'll interview the witch at the Pentagram. I understand she's a white witch, and friendly,” Naomi Kelly volunteered.

“I'd like my fortune told.” Bunny giggled.

“Pardon me for saying so, Bunny,” Robert said, “but I think your fortunes are slightly predictable. I'd like Megan to visit the psychic and write that story.”

“No way.” Megan was surprised by her reaction. She almost got to her feet as a wave of fear and stubbornness washed over her. “I mean, that's not my type of story, Robert. Let someone else do it.”

Megan was aware of some people having psychic powers. In fact, she had done some reading when she began thinking that the pictures that occasionally flashed into her mind might be some type of psychic phenomena. But the idea frightened her.

All this dreaming she was doing since school started scared her. The pictures were so real, and intense, as if they were really happening to her. She was used to little things, like knowing Cynthia was going to call. Knowing what her mom and dad were thinking had always seemed normal. Quite often she knew way in advance what she was getting for Christmas and birthdays, but it never spoiled the gifts. She figured she was just very sensitive to people close to her. She could easily pick up on their feelings.

Megan's attention came back to the staff meeting. Without wanting to, she turned to find Derrick staring at her. He grinned, but she didn't smile back. She looked away quickly, feeling foolish. Had
he
picked up on
her
fear of this psychic business? She realized he was in one of his strange moods. His eyes flirted and teased. She surely hoped he wasn't considering inviting her to the dance if Cynthia said no, which she would do now. Megan could be Derrick's friend, but no way could she think of him as a date.

“I think that kind of thing is hokey.” Jim Rawlings was the paper's skeptic.

It seemed that while Megan's mind had drifted, everyone had refused the assignment of interviewing the psychic.

“You have more nerve than any of us, Megan,” said Naomi. “I still think you should do it. If you get a good fortune, then I'll go.”

“Me too,” Bunny added, her arm around Jim now. “I don't think I'm
that
predictable. Sometimes I have very deep thoughts that no one could guess.”

Bunny didn't care if everyone laughed at her pouting face. Just so she got their attention.

“I'm sorry,” Megan said firmly. “I have more than I can get done now. I can't go.”

Robert looked at Megan, but she held her ground. She didn't say no to his assignments often.

“Okay, I'll do it,” he said. “I'm not sure I believe in this stuff, either, but maybe I'll learn something.”

Megan turned her attention back to peeling her orange as the meeting broke up. She concentrated on chewing the sweet slices. She knew everyone had left the room but Robert. She knew he stood staring at her. She could feel his mind searching hers. She focused on nothing except the orange.

“Are you sure you're all right, Megan?” he said finally. “You didn't seem yourself yesterday. And today you've decided to argue with your boss.” He switched from a serious tone to teasing.

She didn't look at him, and she ignored his teasing. “Of course. I'm just busy, that's all. I shouldn't have to take every assignment you hand out.”

She hadn't meant to speak so sharply. She felt his puzzled thoughts and his hurt as he left the room. He did like her. Now that Cynthia had called her attention to it, Megan picked up on it immediately. He thought of her as more than just a reporter or a photographer. More than just a business partner. Tears sprang to her eyes. You dumb bunny, she thought as she brushed them aside. Why didn't you tell Robert that the idea of going to a psychic was frightening? He might not understand that either, but he wouldn't take it personally. She didn't have to hurt his feelings because of her fears. Suddenly she wanted badly for Robert to invite her to the dance. She wanted more time to explore these new feelings. Or were they feelings that had been there for a long time and that she was just now acknowledging?

The orange tasted flat, like old cardboard. She shivered, cold all over. Getting up, she poured a cup of coffee from the newspaper office's pot. She warmed her hands on the cup and sniffed the toasty aroma. She'd lived seventeen years without screwing up her life badly. Was she going to start now? There wasn't any reason for her to be afraid of Robert's liking her. And now she knew he did. She'd think about that all day. Robert was certainly safer subject matter than all that hokey psychic stuff.

A better mood came over her, and she felt she could head for her first class.

Chapter 5

Although Megan thought about Robert, she ignored him and everyone else for a couple of days. She concentrated on her studies, on zipping through her classes. That always brought her back to real life. The idea of graduating in May was starting to sink in. It didn't seem possible, but if she didn't keep up her grades, it wouldn't
be
possible.

Robert found her in the newspaper office, typing, on Thursday morning. He said nothing about her refusing to write the article for the paper. He was all business.

“Megan, have you seen Derrick? He wasn't in school yesterday, and I can't find him this morning either. He's not in first period. He was supposed to have some pictures of Cynthia and her attendants for Naomi's article on Homecoming. I can't go to press without them.”

“He took the pictures last night. Cynthia told me.”

Cynthia had also told Megan she'd hated every minute of posing for Derrick. She'd let him know right off that she'd made up with Gus and was going to the dance with him. She said Derrick didn't seem angry, but he kept smiling at her the whole time he took the photos for the paper. It gave her the creeps.

“Derrick is always on time with his photos. He's my most dependable photographer.” Robert paced the floor.

“Maybe he's at home working on them,” Megan suggested. “I'll bet he'll deliver by noon.”

“If he doesn't, will you cut out of lunch early and go with me to his house? I called there and got no answer.”

“He's probably in his darkroom. I think he lives there.”

By noon there was still no Derrick and no photos. Megan and Robert left before the lunch hour was over, but she knew she'd still be late for history class. Megan didn't mind. Living today was more interesting than studying the past. Especially being with Robert. He didn't seem angry at her and had probably forgotten her sharpness. In case he hadn't, she apologized.

“Robert, I'm sorry about being so negative the other morning about the psychic. It's just a hang-up that I have about that kind of thing.”

“No problem. I interviewed her and she seemed like a perfectly normal person.”

Megan laughed. “She didn't tell you a mysterious redheaded woman might enter your life?” She dared to flirt.

“No, but sounds like a good idea. Will you go to the Homecoming Dance with me, Megan? We'll need to take pictures, but we might sneak in a dance or two.”

“All play and no work.” Megan teased to hide her excitement.

“Makes for no newspaper and the end of our reputation for the best school paper west of the Mississippi. I'll risk it.” Robert laughed.

“Me too. I'd love to go.”

Robert's Camaro was a welcome change from Derrick's van. It was metallic blue and hummed like the well-cared-for machine that it was. Robert had bought the car himself and fixed it up. He smiled at Megan. She felt a slight stirring in the pit of her stomach that hadn't been there before when she looked at him.

At the beginning of the school year Derrick had moved into a rambling, two-story Spanish-style house two blocks from Megan's. It spoke of money with its cultivated yard and patio. There was a wrought-iron sculpture on the patio area, abstract, expensive, strange-looking.

“Some people's idea of art is far from mine,” Robert joked.

“Derrick's mother's, to be exact. There are more of the same style inside. Some are marble.” Megan had only been inside Derrick's house once, when the neighbors had surprised the Ameses with a welcoming party. During that visit Derrick had shown Megan the darkroom he'd built in his bedroom. It was the best one Megan had ever been in. Even so, the house was a cold, unwelcoming place.

Mrs. Ames answered the door. She was a heavyset woman with pampered hands and stylish hair, overdressed for a Thursday afternoon. Megan thought she had probably been beautiful once, but she looked used-up now.

“Your phone may be out of order, Mrs. Ames,” Robert said. “I tried to call several times. Is Derrick home?”

“I was playing bridge. Just got home. Derrick has a cold, and I made him stay home.” Mrs. Ames smiled. Megan found her sticky-sweet personality hard to take. She was divorced, and she and Derrick lived alone. And the rumor around the development was that she had a drinking problem. Megan suspected that Mrs. Ames spoiled Derrick terribly, and she also seemed to treat him like a baby. “You know his health is delicate.” She didn't invite Megan and Robert in. They stood awkwardly on the porch.