Time's Daughter (5 page)

He slid by me, brushing my back on his way to the
wide sink behind me. “You gossip?” Alex put his print in the
developing tray.

“
I don’t but my friends do,” I said
defensively without understanding why I’d be defensive to a guy I
didn’t know.

“
Most girls do. I learned to tune it
out.”

I arranged the photo paper on the enlarger’s
darkened surface. “That’s a handy talent. Could you teach me
it?”

“
I think having a younger sister
helped train me in the skill. You don’t have a younger sister, do
you?”

“
No.”

“
Only child, right?”

“
Yeah…”

In my peripheral vision I saw him nod his head. “I
can tell.”

I flipped the timer to seven seconds, hit the
enlarger’s button and then faced him. “How?”

Even in the dark I could see his smile. “You can’t
be a true introvert if you have siblings.”

“
So I’m a true
introvert?”

Alex cocked his head to the right. His hands were
busy moving his print down the line of trays. “I wouldn’t go that
far.”

“
Didn’t you just?”

He chuckled softly. “You presumed.”

“
Riiiiight,” I said while sliding in
beside him. It was my turn to put my print in the developing
solution.

Alex said nothing as he peered down at the rapidly
appearing image in the liquid. He spoke once the scene was clear.
“Your photos really capture the decrepit theme yet still have a
flowing, linear feel to them.”

He was an art critic too?
Was there anything
he couldn’t do well?

I glanced at his photo. He’d printed a shot of the
abandoned asylum similar to the one I’d done at the start of class.
His had a darker feel and was taken at an odd angle as if it were
from the point of view of a predator or serial killer who looked at
the world in a skewed manner.

Was that why I thought he was odd?
Was he
some sort of serial killer in the making? That would certainly be a
big enough offset to his finer qualities.

Alex caught me looking. “I’m thinking of calling it
Gacy Vision.”

I stumbled back. “Seriously?”

He laughed and gestured to the door. “Yeah but I
won’t tell her that.”

I lifted the tray of chemicals, agitating them. It
did little to help me feign nonchalance. “Are you into that sort of
thing?”

Alex shifted back against the sink. “What?”

“
Serial killers.”

He lifted his shoulders with quick irreverence.
“I’ve been reading about human psychology, specifically a book on
sociopaths. I guess it’s just on my mind.”

“
Why ‘Gacy vision’?”

Alex grinned at me—a show of bright white teeth in
the dim light. “Because Dahmer vision or Manson vision don’t have
the same ring to them.”

It was my turn to chuckle. “That’s kind of eerie. I
had just been thinking that it looked like it was from the view of
a predator or serial killer.”

His grin faded. Alex used the tongs to move his
latest print into the next tray but he dropped it in face down with
an agitated gesture.

Had I pissed him off?

For some reason I felt the need to break the newest
silence. “Is that what your project is going to be?”

He didn’t look up but his voice was lower. “No. I
was just printing that one to get a feel for the studio.”

I moved my photo into the next tray and waited to
see if he’d answer my question.

“
I haven’t decided on a theme.” His
tone lightened. “Any ideas?”

I lifted my palms, waving them vehemently. “I have a
hard enough time coming up with my own inspiration.”

He made a sound of contemplation. “Are there any
public gardens in town?”

“
There are some city parks but I
don’t think they have any gardens. They just worry about having
space for hockey rinks and sledding.”

“
Ugh. Sledding means
snow
.”

“
Yeah, that would be a
requirement.”

The glance he sent me from under his lashes seemed
coy. “Maybe I’ll take a page from your three D’s and do
‘despair’.”

“
I’m sure that would be
interesting.”

“
Then we could easily combine our
work into one show when we become famous artists.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fantasize much?”

Alex set his photo in the rinse and walked into the
circular contraption they called a door. I stared after, thinking
that he was actually kind of odd. I wasn’t sure if that was a good
thing or not.

By P.E. Alex was back to seeming normal. A rivalry
developed in flag football between football quarterback Tyler and
spry dodger Alex.

What a curious thing about males—they allowed
rivalries to develop without harming friendships. Actually it
seemed the opposite. Rivalries inspired them. Why couldn’t females
be like that?

* * * *

Downtown bound after school, the cameraman had difficulty
keeping up with me. Remorse was the last thing I felt. His slow
pace was going to make me late. I stopped in for a sandwich at a
convenience store. I needed food and my cameraman needed a moment
to catch his breath. Then I continued at my breakneck speed to
work.

Junction Hill didn’t have a Hot Topic. We had a
“Burning Idea”. The blatant rip off of the apparel and music store
wasn’t nearly as popular as an actual Hot Topic would have been.
Most attributed that to its location. Between the CVS pharmacy and
the budget grocery store in the strip mall near the state road
wasn’t the best of spots to lure in teenagers. The real mall would
have been the ideal location.

But I liked Burning Idea because it was within
walking distance of home and while I worked I could listen to music
by questionable bands at a volume that bordered on unreasonable.
Plus it was usually dead enough on my shifts that the owner left me
in charge. The only cons had been that I was on my feet the entire
time and the constant sneezing due to burning incense. After the
first month I’d gotten over my slight allergy to the smoke. Now I
loved the stuff.

“
Oh, shit,” the owner, Felix Stern
said upon finding a camera in his face. He hastily put out whatever
he’d been smoking. “I forgot about that.” He backed toward the
staff area. “I’m gonna go work on the budget then go to
dinner.”

My eyebrows lifted at his strange reaction. “All
right.”

Felix had actually meant he was going to go back to
his desk, forget what it was he’d gone back for and then go for an
extended meal. I waited until he’d disappeared out the back door
then changed the music from The Grateful Dead to something a little
more contemporary.

Decent Indie music was hard for me to find because I
didn’t have a computer and I lived in a small town that wasn’t near
any large city of notice. I ate up what I could get my hands
on.

British bands were my favorite. One of the guys in
my drawing class had been burning me CDs of music he’d gotten
online since our sophomore year. The latest one had a band from
Northern England and an American band that was a particular
favorite of a certain Hollywood actress. I’d been playing it in the
store nonstop.

Tuesday nights weren’t known for being particularly
busy but because I hadn’t worked in two days it usually meant the
store was a mess. I pulled a neon green hair tie around my hair
then started organizing the t-shirt section. Once I’d gotten
everything refolded and put back in the appropriate bins, I counted
how many we had of each size, made notes of the numbers then headed
into the back room to check on replacements.

A dozen unopened boxes awaited me. I sent a glare at
the office. Felix had neglected to tell me a big shipment from our
supplier had arrived. I settled in for a long night of cataloguing
and displaying.

All of three customers came in during my six-hour
shift. Only one had purchased anything. Sometimes I wondered how
Felix was able to stay in business. All other times I didn’t want
to know.

It was getting easier to forget that I had a camera
on me at all times—unless I was walking the dark streets at night
and there was a strange guy stalking my steps. I had to admit that
it was a spooky feeling but at the same time I was probably the
safest person on the street. Who would dare to mug a girl with a
cameraman?

I waved goodbye to the videographer at the apartment
door, slipped inside and immediately headed for the bathroom. A
book was stowed beneath the sink from the night before. I sat on
the carpeted toilet seat cover and read until shortly before my mom
got home.

She and I had a brief chat about how the documentary
was going until we could no longer see straight from all the
yawning. I decided I’d count the day as a success if I woke up
without crusted drool on my mouth.

* * * *

“
Lunch alfresco,” a now familiar deep voice said.
“Except you aren’t eating anything, mute girl.”

I lifted my eyes from my sketchbook and discovered
Alex’s silhouette eclipsing the sun. He’d found me beneath the tree
outside ten minutes after lunch had begun. It was surprising that
he’d actually sought me out.

“
I wasn’t hungry,” I said. It was a
lie. I’d been hungry since nine that morning but had forgotten to
bring either food or money.

“
Do you mind if I share a bit of
your shade?”

I shrugged. “It’s a free country.”

He chuckled but didn’t explain why he thought it was
funny as he sat two feet beside me. I noted the roast beef sandwich
with yellow American cheese in his left hand and the bottle of
water in his right. He tore open the plastic wrapper on the
sandwich but spoke a second before he took a bite.

“
I think I’m beginning to become
desensitized to the temperature. Either that or it’s getting
warmer. Is that sad?”

“
I suppose you would think so,” I
said.

He faced me but waited until he’d finished chewing
to speak. “What do you mean?”

My response had sounded rude rather than dry. I
tried to soften it with a carefully worded explanation. “I gather
you’d rather be back wherever you came from.”

Alex’s head tilted to the left. “Why do you say
that?”

I laughed—a soft breathy sound because I hadn’t
really meant it. “All that talk about how cold it was. Plus the
‘despair’ theme came up after a discussion about snow
sledding.”

His bronze cheeks flushed a little darker. “It’s
dang cold here and I’m not looking forward to driving in snow but I
don’t want to go back where I came from.”

“
That bad?”

Alex shook his head in a slow movement. “You’re
really confusing me today.”

“
Sorry,” I said. My stomach picked
that exact moment to pipe up with a Godzilla-level
growl.

“
Yeeeaah, that sounds like you’re
not hungry,” he drawled and tried to hand me half his
sandwich.

“
I’m fine.”

Alex grunted but withdrew the sandwich. “I’m
thinking about heading downtown with the camera after school to
look for some despair. I could use a guide to the most rundown
spots, if you’re free.”

“
Sorry, I have to work,” I said but
my brain continued thinking about his request long
after.

Had he asked me on some sort of after school
date?
Or was it that he thought the person doing a project on
dilapidated things might know where the people in the most despair
could be found?

There was a long pause while he ate more of his
sandwich. “How about Thursday? Do you work Thursday?”

I contemplated lying but knew the two cameras
orbiting us would capture it. “No, I don’t work Thursday but you
should probably get a roll of film shot as soon as possible so
you’re not even more behind than you already are.”

“
I have a roll of film
shot.”

“
Then why do you need another
one?”

“
There wasn’t much despair to be
found in suburbia.”

My eyes narrowed at the answer. “And you think I
know where to find despair?”

“
I figured you’d know where the run
down spots were because of your project topic,” he said
defensively. “And that if you knew where those were, you might know
where the homeless congregated.”

I shifted to the side, onto my knees and then stood
with a forceful, angry movement. “Why would I know that? You think
I have some sort of kindred spirit radar that lets me seek out the
poor people?”

I didn’t want to hear the answer so I snatched up my
bag and shoved my notebook inside as I stomped away. The problem
was that I didn’t know where to go. He was in my next class. The
lunchroom would have to do.

No despair in suburbia
—that line had annoyed
me. I wouldn’t know what suburbia was like. We’d never been able to
afford to live anywhere but the small apartment downtown. Even with
Mom working two jobs and the paycheck from Burning Idea we barely
eked by each month. It was the medical bills that were killing
us.

Melissa was gathering up her things when I passed
through the lunchroom door. I tried to calm myself before going to
her so I wouldn’t be an ogre. But a voice interrupted my steadying
breath.

“
Aeon, please wait. I didn’t mean it
like that at all.” Alex continued speaking rapidly without letting
me get a word in edgewise. “I assumed everyone who had lived here a
while would know where the homeless hung out. I didn’t mean that
there was something about you specifically.”

I stared at the ground, slowly realizing what an
idiot I’d been. I’d all but admitted we were from poor
circumstances and he hadn’t even accused me of it. How did I get
out of this now?