Photogenic

Saidee drove me to the hospital. She stayed in the room with me as we waited for a doctor to be free to see my pain riddled self. I lay on the table, bored with the long wait. Sighing, I tried not to move my arm as I turned over to look at Saidee.

"This is more boring than my high school graduation party," I commented in monotone.

Saidee snickered as she looked at me on the table, her dark eyes lighting up at the joke. "Laci should be called..." she reminded at the worst possible time. What a brilliant time to bring that up, Saidee.

I sighed. "If anything, my little brother should be called," I retorted. My angry sarcastic mood was all because of the pain shooting from y wrist to my neck. It was really not that bad, but rather annoying as it caused my neck and shoulder to begin to ache. "Goddamn! How long does it take to get some fuckin' pain killers 'round here!"

Two hours later, I was told I had sprained my wrist, given painkillers, finally, and told to wear a sling for the next week or so and check back in with the doctor to see how well I was healing. Saidee drove us back to the apartment and all to happily fallowed me to my door and insisted on helping me in.

"I'm fine, Saidee, honestly," I rolled my eyes as I let myself in, ignoring Saidee as she tried to get me to give her my keys. "Thanks though, for everything."

"Yup," she nodded, stepping in with me. I mentally sighed.

"Well, I'm going to take a pill and sleep, like the doctor said..." I hinted, hoping she'd get it and leave. "So... I'll see you... around?"

Finally, she got it and left, but not before pulling me into an unwanted hug and wishing me well. I decided that watching a movie or something on TV would be exciting, as my whole day of relaxation was completely ruined.

The next morning, I work up to Laci shaking me. She stood in her pajamas, a yawn stretching her mouth. I sat up slowly, groaning and looking at my alarm clock. She grumbled something about getting up and getting ready for class. I sighed, angry with the little amount of sleep I had gotten, and threw the covers off myself.

"Are you ever going to explain the arm to me?" Laci asked, stepping aside to let me get to my dresser, where a white bottle of pain killers were.

I grabbed to bottle, opened it, dumped a few pills into my hand and said, "I fell in the hall 'cause Saidee couldn't be patient and wait for me to dry off after my bath," my teeth clenched.

"Jeeze!" Laci grumbled. "You don't have to be a grump about it."

"I'm not trying to be," my eyebrows came together. "I didn't sleep well because of the pain, unless you wanted me to OD on pain killers, Lace."

"Oh ha ha!"

Lace left my room, closing the door behind herself so I could get ready. I took the pills dry, not really caring if it left my mouth dry for a few seconds. I got dressed on handedly, which was actually easier than I thought it would be. I wore what I called my purple outfit. It consisted of multi-layers of different shades of purple. It took me longer to do my makeup, because my left arm was stuck in a sling, so my eyeliner didn't turn out as well as I would have liked.

In math I was bombarded with questions as to why I had my wrist in a brace and all. Nobody really believed my story, which I wouldn't believe someone either, as it's such a overused excuse. They resorted on made up some rumor that I had a night of wild partying and two or three sex scandals that took a major strain on my wrist. I chuckled at such a though, interested at what people had to come up with to talk about something.

By lunch, everyone seemed to know every detail of my oh-so-wiled weekend. And, of course, as I was seen dancing and kissing some new guy, as they put it, fighting with Joey, and someone claimed they'd seen me kissing two guys at the party, the rumors seemed to take a life of their own.

After lunch, was English. I sat in my usual seat and took out my notebook and pencil, ready to take notes on the story we were reviewing today. Sadly, this class, I knew nobody enough to want to talk to them and made no really attempt to try to socialize, which was quite fine with me. Sitting next to Miranda, a really materialistic girl. She leaned over to me once she sat down and tapped my shoulder.

"Is it true?" she whispered, looking at me through her eyelashes.

"What?" I asked, confused as to what exactly she wanted my honest on. Obviously, it had something to do with the rumor, but what part?

"Did you fuck him?" she asked, motioning to a student across the room.

I turned to look and almost laughed aloud. There, in all his lion mane glory, was Mr. Foreign-Exchange-Twin-#2. He was sitting perfectly straight, his own notebook open on the desk in front of him. His hand came up and fixed a strand of hair, ignoring the class room around him. His eyes, a golden hazel, it looked, were outlined in black eyeliner. Green and gold eye shadow colored his lids.

I turned back to Miranda and raised my eyebrows. "Him?" I questioned, slightly appalled at her thoughts.

"Well," she paused, trying to come up with a valid reasoning behind her thought. "I mean... You both seem to have this...tension..." she trailed.

"Tension?" I laughed. "There's anything but that! I fuckin' hate him."

"That's not what Roy said from the party Saturday," she retorted, her face scrunching up as if she was trying to remember what he said. "He told me that you and him, the new guy, not Roy, were hanging out and looking very...comfortable around each other."

"No, I was only with him 'cause of the fight with Joey," I explained, wanting to give up because it seemed pretty useless. "Which he deserved to be hit for his comments and actions."

Miranda was silent the remainder of class.

During the silence before class started, I thought about that night. Why did I even talk with him? I drew a blank while coming up with an answer and wanted to brush it off, but it annoyed me to think that I would hang out with him, in a bathroom no less, when I hated him so. I picked up my black pen and began to doodle on the edges of the paper, creating dark lines as I thought more and more about him and the party.

"Good morning class," Mr. Lebouski greeted as he walked into the class, pushing his usual cart with the days lesson plans and papers on it. He closed the door behind him and moved to the front of the class and began to get organized. He scanned the seats, which were in auditorium seating so he could easily see past heads.

I continued to doodle boxes and small triangles, X-ing them out to create a little design. Mr. Lebouski was sifting though papers on his desk, getting the overhead and the days lesson together. I didn't feel the need to watch him do so, and kept on drawing absentmindedly. I eventually got bored with the my excuse for art and dropped the pen onto the desk and began picking at my nails, sliding down in my seat and crossing my legs at my knee.

"We'll be getting into groups after we debrief the book and take a few notes," he announced, putting a copy of the notes we'll need to take down on the screen for us to copy. "The groups have already been picked and it's a short project that'll only take the class period, so no stress."

That was the cool thing about Mr. Lebouski, he wasn't all professor like. He acted like one of us and understood the after lunch restlessness sometimes. Though he was well into his fifties with receding gray hair, he was respected and one of the cool teachers on campus. He was an understanding one, too.

"Now, who can tell me where Talent's Grace takes place?" he asked, looking up.

For the next half hour, I took notes, feeling very awkward sitting where I was. I tried to ignore it because I never felt like that, but for some reason it was like someone was constantly staring at the back of my head. I turned around once and Greg and Tory, who sat diagonally from me were taking notes, not even acknowledging my presence. My eyes moved left, toward Brandi and Tem who sat at the table next to mine, and they were the same. That's when I saw that he was looking at me. His eyes were shadowed by his make up in such a way that it made him look mysterious. He was definitely a different guy than at the party and the store. He was behind me, next to someone I didn't know the name of. I guess he moved to be next to the guy with the orange shirt.

I turned back around, feeling like an idiot for turning around and looking at the class with no apparent reason. So I used the excuse that I was cracking my back on the chair and turned the other way, grabbing the back of the chair as support and forced myself to turn. Turning to face the front again, I continued on with my notes, hoping that I pulled that off correctly.

"Okay," Mr. Lebouski finally said after a good amount of notes. "For this, you're going to be working with the people around you, like usual. Alright, your goal is to come up with a short story of your own, working with the people in your group. I have a hand out to give you that is the basis for what your short story has to entail." He held up a handful of white papers. "I want to read this over with your group, aloud or silently is your choice, and brainstorm on what your should write about using the prompt given."

Mr. Lebouski began handing out the prompts. Miranda and I turned around to face the two behind us. I sighed inwardly, looking down as I adjusted my chair to be level with their table. Miranda did the same and we sat looking at the two boys across from us. I didn't dare look at Mr. Exchange Student, so I examined his neighbor. He was a chubbier boy in a bright orange shirt that didn't help to hide his weight, but who am I to judge on that. Maybe he was self confident unlike half the world? Miranda was obviously trying to gain his attention, the exchange students, not the guy with the confidence. She was fixing her shirt so it showed just a tad more cleavage than necessary. I rolled my eyes as her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, looking toward whats-his-face. He was staring at me intently, as if he was trying to burn my image into his brain to be kept forever.

That thought crept me out and I looked down at the table to escape his gaze. Mr. Lebouski set four prompt paper on the desk in front of Mr. Creep (I seriously need to think harder and remember his name. Didn't he tell me at the party?). He gave himself one before handing the rest to us. He held out the paper for me to take and I silently took it from him, clearing my throat.

"Aloud or silent?" I asked, glancing over the prompt.

Miranda shrugged and I looked at the orange shirted dude. He shrugged also, so I looked at what's-his-face.

"whatever you think," he responded, his accent thicker than I remembered. I rose an eyebrow trying to understand what he meant and shrugged.

We decided upon reading it silently as most of the class did. The prompt was rather broad, letting us have free rein on what could possibly happen to this girl who was deciding on what she should do with her life, go with a high paying career with long hours, or with a minimum wage job with average hours. She had a devoted loving boyfriend and a child on the way. It seemed so simple and many ideas came to mind as to what we could do with this, but when it came time to actually write them down and converse with the group, none of them seemed adequate enough for this.

The class ended quickly. Mr. Lebouski announced that we would continue this project over the next few days and to be thinking of ideas. I gathered my things and shoved them into my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder and quickly exiting the classroom.

He'd been looking at me all hour, and not just when I was sharing my idea's. That look in his eyes was one that made me almost absolutely positive that I didn't want to find myself near him unless I couldn't avoid it. Something about the way he sat in that chair, his back straight and his voice thick with that accent that made me hate him more. He was so... I can't explain it! Almost, egotistical in the way he held himself.

I made my way through campus to my photography class. It was on the other side of the building and up three floors. I joined the crowd going the same direction and fallowed them to my destination and breaking off at the classroom door. I hurried in and to my seat at the third art lab. My desk mate, Nate, wasn't there, as usual. He almost always came in after me.

I took out my portfolio, thumbing through it to make sure that all the required elements were there and in order. It wasn't due until next week, and I had just one more thing left to do, but I brought it in to do some finishing touches in class.

Nate came in and took his seat next to me. "Whacha doin'?"

I looked up at him with a smile, answering, "Oh, nothing. Just looking through my portfolio and stuff."

Nate nodded, his blond hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it aside with his fingers, smiling again, showing his perfect teeth. It was no lie that he had a crush on me. He'd asked me out multiple times and was never discouraged or hurt by the fact that I always said no. He wasn't, to me, boyfriend material. He was a great friend, though, and someday he'll find a girl who's just right for him.

"Okay, class," Mia spoke loudly, getting everyone to quiet down. "We're starting our year long project today. You'll be documenting of one of the models that have signed up. All of them are part of the modeling department and you'll be shooting them in many different settings, all of which you get to choose. At the end of the year, I want a power point over viewing the best pictures and a portfolio put together of everything done." She walked around, handing out a packet of information. "This tells you everything that is required and gives you some ideas for what you can do. Everyone's project is different as everyone's models are different. So working together is not allowed. We'll draw who your model is out of the hat on my desk in a moment."

She finished passing out the packets and walked to the door, opening it and gesturing with her hand for someone to come in. She stood aside and a line of 30 people filed in, all a mixture of girls and guys. I looked over at Nate, rolling my eyes at some of the people who were in the group.

"I hope we get someone photogenic," he commented, glancing at the line at the front of the class.

"Pray with me Nate," I joked, clasping my hand and bowing my head.

He chuckled, and whispered, "Dear Mighty Lord above, please, we're begging you, give us someone photogenic and easy to work with. Above all is you Almighty God-Lord."

"Amen," we finished together, a smile coming to our faces as we finished quietly. Nate cracked me up sometimes.

Mia walked around with the hat, letting each student pick a name from its depths. Each student picked a slip of paper out and I watched as they opened it and their shocked faces. I'm not going to lie, only a little more than half of the models looked photogenic, the others were... alright, but they definitely would need some touch ups for their image to sell.

Nate was given the hat before me. He gripped my hand underneath the table, his fingers intertwining with mine tightly as he stuck his other hand into the black hat and rummaged around before drawing a paper out.

"Together?" he questioned, as I stuck my hand in, pulling out the first slip of paper my fingers touched. The paper was unusually thick.

I squeezed Nate's hand in reassurance as we both unfolded our papers. Written in purple ink on my scrap of paper was a barley readable name. I looked over at Nate to see his face drop. I glanced at his paper and gasped also. In hot pink writing was a name, but not just any name. It was Alex Regen's name, Nate's recent eye candy.

"Oh my god!" he gasped. "There is no way in hell..."

"Well, we mustn't be in hell, Nate," I calmly stated. His hand slipped out of mine and he lightly slapped my thigh.

"Who'd you get?"

I looked back down at my paper, trying to pronounce the last name in my head. "Bill... uhm... Call'its." I shrugged, looking up at Nate, finding the name familiar. "Who is that?"

"Oh my Gosh!" the girl in front of me exclaimed, turning toward me. "Can I trade you?"

I rose my eyebrows, confused as to why. "Uhm, no?"

"Please?" she begged. "I'll do anything."

"She said no, Krist," Nate spoke up.

"Fine," she snapped, turning around with the flick of her wrist underneath her hair.

"Jeeze."