Second to No One (13 page)

The rest of October rolled on slowly. I wasn’t allowed to go to Drew’s Halloween party. But she had it anyway. So I got to hear about it the next Monday at our lockers. Lauren had invited Jess.

“But he didn’t come,” Drew assured me with a stern look. She said that Trace had brought some tiny blonde junior from the dance team. “But you’re way cuter,” she announced as though I had really been threatened by the information. “Bryce brought a bunch of his friends from Highlands, and the last people didn’t leave until three a.m. It was awesome.” Then she added as an afterthought, “But of course it would have been better if you had been there.”

November was also slow, but strangely pleasant, as I found myself growing comfortable with my new situation. The only time I saw my friends was at our locker or at lunch. But the crazy thing was that the less I saw them, the less I cared to and the more I realized how lame the whole high school social scene really was. I still loved Drew, of course, and when we weren’t catching up on each other’s lives at our locker, we were passing notes between classes or writing on each other’s homework in fifth period. How I survived the first fifteen years of my life without her was beyond me. But she was with Bryce so much lately that I doubted it would have made a difference whether I was grounded or not.

Jess and I hadn’t said a word to each other in almost a month. Still, I found myself looking forward to fourth period every day simply because for that one uninterrupted hour we were within the same four walls. For that one hour, I could hear his voice, watch his subtle movements, and catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye without having to pretend that I hated him. I did hate him though, didn’t I? I mean, the guy broke my heart, asked out my friend, and then walked around all innocent wanting to be friends with me. It should have been easy to hate him. So why was it not?

Besides looking forward to fourth period for Jess, I also looked forward to it because as it turned out, photography was my new favorite pastime and my one release from my three-month punishment. I rented an old camera from the school and took pictures whenever I could. I photographed the lake by my house, the cement jungle, and the old soccer posts in the field behind it. I photographed my room and my yard and the rooftops that I could see from my window. I photographed my parents doing odd things like putting away a cupcake sheet or folding down their bed or just sitting together on the couch reading. Taking pictures was beginning to be something that I enjoyed, that I felt good about, and that I wanted to improve at. I had never felt that way about anything before.

“Gemma, could I speak to you for a moment?” Ms. Delrose’s low voice hovered over the classroom as everyone packed their things up to leave. It was the middle of November, the day before Thanksgiving, and throughout the school, there was a feeling of newfound energy and excitement for the upcoming holidays.

I weaved through the exiting students and glanced at Jess, who was watching me curiously through the crowd. When I approached her desk, Ms. Delrose handed me my latest project. The front cover had a red A written at the top in permanent marker. Ms. Delrose, though extremely nice, was known to be a tough grader, and I hadn’t gotten anything above a B all year. “Wow,” I said, searching the project for my name. I wanted to make sure it was actually mine.

Ms. Delrose chuckled. “Don’t sound so surprised. You earned that grade fair and square. In fact, I looked over your work three more times to make sure I wasn’t giving it too high of a grade, but in the end, you won. It was perfect.”

I flipped through the pages. The assignment had been to capture five different scenes that were completely different and yet somehow connected while practicing the lighting, angle, and focus techniques we had been working on all semester. Then we had to write a three-page essay to explain it. I had spent hours on the project and loved every minute of it.

“You’re a natural, you know.” Ms. Delrose leaned back in her chair with a satisfied grin. “I see a lot of students roll in and out of that door, and every once in a while someone comes along with true, natural ability. This time it’s you.”

I couldn’t say anything. I just kept flipping through my photographs over and over until they began to crease in the corner.

Ms. Delrose continued, “Every great photographer has ups and downs. Times when his photography is lacking and times when his photography just works. Usually, if one examines the times in his life when the latter is true, he can begin to understand why that is, to see a pattern. Then he can make sure he sustains those things that are good in his life, those things that lift him up and help him create beauty and perfection. I don’t know what is going on in your life right now, Gemma. I’m sure you have many challenges that you’re working through as we all do. But something extraordinary is going on too because I can see it in your work. I urge you to examine that, embrace it, hold on to whatever it is, and don’t ever let it go.”

“I, uh…” I finally managed, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” Her eyes were bright but serious. “Just keep it up.”

I straightened the packet of papers and was about to turn to leave when Ms. Delrose motioned to someone behind me and said, “Jess?”

I turned around to see Jess at the door, turning to the sound of his name.

“Could you come here for a minute?” She looked back at me. “Gemma, don’t go yet.”

My heart pounded as Jess came to my side. It was the closest we’d been in weeks. The two of us stood silently watching Ms. Delrose for an explanation as she flipped through the stack of projects on her desk. “Jess, this is Gemma.” She licked her finger and continued flipping through the stack. “Do you two know one another?”

We looked at each other awkwardly. “Yes.” His reply was flat and empty. “I know Gemma.”

“Ah, here it is.” She pulled a stapled project out of the pile and handed it to Jess. A red D was printed at the top. Ms. Delrose sighed and clasped her hands together in front of her chest, “Listen, Jess. I’m going to be frank. You’re struggling a bit. But that’s okay. Photography is difficult for a lot of people. That’s why you’re in this class. To learn.” She opened one palm in my direction. “Now Gemma here is only a sophomore, but she’s catching on very well. I’d like the two of you to work together on the project I assigned today. Learn from her, Jess. Take notes. Take the exact same photographs that she does, and once they’re developed compare them and look for what the difference is. Figure out where you can improve. I think Gemma can really help you.”

I was stunned silent and caught somewhere between my excitement to spend time with Jess again and the agony of being forced to be with someone who had rejected me.

“Well,” Jess finally said, “I’m happy to learn from Gemma, but only if it’s okay with her.” He turned to look at me once more, but this time when our eyes met, a pocket of air got lodged in my throat.

“Gemma?” Ms. Delrose turned to look at me. “I know it will take more time, but the best way to improve is by teaching others. Are you willing to help?”

“Um, yeah,” I choked out. “Yeah, that’ll be fine.”

“Great.” Ms. Delrose looked proud of herself for generating such a great idea. “You have just over three weeks to find out where each other lives and create a couple of masterpieces. You’re working together, but you still need to turn in two separate projects. I’m looking forward to being wowed.”

It stormed over Thanksgiving and so much so that our family that usually came over for dinner wasn’t able to make it on the icy roads. I didn’t mind so much though. Bridget had made it home from college before the storm hit, and it was actually nice to spend the holiday weekend with just the four of us. When I wasn’t taking pictures, I was sitting at the kitchen table scanning the Monopoly board for possible winning strategies. It was a never-ending game that we had started after dinner on Thanksgiving and were still dedicating two hours here and there through the rest of the weekend to finishing. Dad owned Boardwalk and Park Place and was slaughtering the rest of us whenever we tried to pass Go. Mom had all the cheap properties, but she had hotels on every single one and was raking in the cash. I had put all my hopes and dreams into the orange property that not a single person had landed on, and Bridget was staying in the game merely by the fact that she had landed on Free Parking nine out of her past ten times around the board. I was doomed. I was barely keeping my head above water with my lucky rolls of landing on Chance and Community Chest. But one wrong roll to Dad’s dark blue kingdom or Mom’s hotel row would send me packing and out of the game.

“You don’t stand a chance.” Bridget smirked while standing over me chewing on a banana. “You have no cash and no real prospect of making any.”

I looked over the board for the hundredth time, knowing she was right. I couldn’t stand to look at the game any longer. It was at a standstill, and it was basically calling to me at the top of its lungs, saying, “Gemma! You are a loser in every facet of your life! Boys! Friends! And even Monopoly!”

Mom and Dad had left an hour before to take Dad into the hospital. He was having chest pains again, so they went in for more tests. I was just about to “accidentally” bump the table and once and for all demolish the horrible game when the phone rang. I barely paid attention as Bridget spoke into the receiver. “Uh huh. Okay. Are you sure? We’ll be right there.”

“We’ll be right where?” I said, still mulling over my sad and extremely vacant orange property.

“The hospital.”

I turned around to face her. “Was that Mom? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said curtly and without an ounce of sensitivity. “Dad’s a lot worse than they thought. They life-flighted him to Sylva. We need to go now. “ Sylva was a good forty-five minute drive from our house when the roads were clear. But it would be impossible to make it there at all in a storm with Bridget’s tiny little two-door Grand Am. Bridget must have been thinking the same thing because she shoved the phone at my chest. “Call Jess. See if he can take us there in his Jeep.”

“Not Jess,” I whined. “Let’s call someone else.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she shouted much louder than she needed to. “We need to go see Dad! Call Jess! Now!”

I did as she said and hastily dialed his number into the phone. As the phone rang, I dreaded the moment he would answer. What would I say? Should I begin with an apology for acting like a bitter ex-girlfriend for the past six weeks? Would he even take us to the hospital after the way that I’d acted? He probably hated me. By the time the phone rang a third time, I was sure he was screening my calls. My heart jumped when I heard his voice on the other end of the line. “Gemma?”

“Jess.” My voice was full of panic, and I forgot all about the apology.

“Gemma? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

The genuine concern in his voice made me relax slightly. “My dad got taken to Sylva. Could you—”

“I’ll be right there.”

The phone went dead, and less than two minutes later, Jess was at our front door, his black Jeep still running in our driveway. Bridget and I were bundled up and ready, and we all piled into his car. Bridget insisted on taking the back seat. She had snagged her iPod at the last minute, and five minutes into the drive, she had her eyes closed and her head against the glass with the ear buds in and the music turned loud enough that I could faintly hear it from where I sat. The snow was coming down hard, and even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, the flat light of the snow combined with the strong, dirty winds made it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of the car. Luckily we were able to follow another car in front of us, and soon we fell into an even stride, and we were all able to relax a bit.

“What’s going on with your dad?” Jess asked. His words were soft, slow, and forced.

“I don’t know.” I looked out my window. “My mom just told us to hurry.” It was a horrible feeling, frantically running toward something and not having idea what we’d find. I assumed when we got to the hospital my dad would be somewhere between life and death. I just hoped with all I had that he would still be breathing.

“How’s your Thanksgiving been aside from all this?” Jess continued.

“It’s been good.” I nodded robotically. “You?”

“Yeah, mine was good too.” He mimicked my nod, and we sat driving in the front seat of his car like a couple of bobblehead dolls staring into the darkening sky.

I bit my bottom lip and attempted an actual topic. “So from the looks of things, I’m sort of kicking your trash in photography.”

Jess’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. To see him smile like that, with only one side of his lips curved northward and his eyes squinty and sparkling, made me forget the whole thing, erase all the bad memories, and only remember the good.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked. “Us working together on this project?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t think it will help you, but yeah, I’m fine with it.”

“Ms. Delrose is right, you know. All your pictures are really amazing. I didn’t even know you liked photography.”