A Summer to Die

A Summer to Die by Lois Lowry Page A

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Authors: Lois Lowry
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pipe was a thin line along the side and the top of the photograph. He took it to the window and looked at it in better light.
    "Meg," he said at last, "all of these are very, very good. You know that already, I'm sure. This is the best one, I think, because of the composition, and also because you hit on just the right combination of shutter speed and aperture setting. You see how the lines in the face are perfectly sharp—you must have a pretty good lens on that little camera of yours—but you slowed it just enough so that the line of smoke has a slight blur to it, as it should.
Smoke has an ephemeral quality, and you caught that, but you didn't sacrifice the clarity of the face. It's a
fine
photograph."

    Why did I want to cry when he finished talking? I don't even know what ephemeral means. But something inside me welled up like hot fudge sauce—sweet, and warm, and so rich that you can't bear to have very much. It was because someone who was a real friend was having the exact same feelings I was having, about something that was more important to me than anything else. I bet there are people who go through a whole life and never experience that. I sat there with my hand around the warm mug of tea, and smiled at Will.
    "Meg," he said suddenly, gulping his own tea. "I'll make a deal with you!"
    I laughed. People say that to me at school, and it means that they want to copy my algebra homework, and in return I get the Hostess Twinkie from their lunch.
    "Remember I told you that I had bought a camera in Germany?"
    I nodded.
    "It's a fine camera," Will said. "The best made, and of course something like that doesn't diminish with age. I don't know why I haven't used it in so long, except that I lost my enthusiasm for a lot of things when Margaret died. And that," he said
gruffly, "is the last thing she would have wanted.

    "But I'm going to get it out of the attic. The camera, and four lenses, and a set of filters that go with it. I want you to use it."
    The hot fudge started up again. My own camera has just one lens, which can't be removed. I've read about using other kinds of lenses and filters, but I've never had a chance to try.
    "I don't know what to say," I told him, and it was true. "What could I possibly do in return?"
    "Oh, don't worry about
that!
" laughed Will. "I said I'd make a deal with you. I'm not going to let you off easily, either. In return, I want you to teach me to use the darkroom. Let me borrow your little camera while you're using mine, and we'll set up a regular schedule for lessons. I'll warn you that it's been a long time since I've undertaken to learn anything new. But my eyesight is good, and my hands are steady, still."
    "But, Will," I wailed. "I'm only thirteen years old! I've never taught anybody anything!"
    Will looked at me very sternly. "My dear Meg," he said, "Mozart wrote his first composition when he was five. Age is a meaningless commodity in most instances. Don't underrate yourself. Now is it a deal?"
    I sat there for a moment, looking at my empty mug. Then I shook his hand. He was right; his
hands were firm and strong and steady. "It's a deal, Will," I said.

    I remembered the Easter egg. In a way it seemed almost silly, now, but I brought out the little box and gave it to him. He held the egg up gravely and examined the design; his eyes lit up with recognition.
    "
Myristica fragrant,
" he pronounced solemnly. "Nutmeg. Am I right?"
    I grinned at him and nodded. "I don't know about the mistica, or whatever you said, but it's nutmeg. You're right."
    He put the egg into a shallow pewter bowl, and took it to the living room. After he had put the bowl on a small pine table by the window, both of us stood in the room and looked at it. The blue of the egg was the same muted blue as the oriental rug; the rust and green shades seemed to reflect the colors of the old wood and the hanging, well-tended plants. It was perfect there; Will didn't even have to say so. We just looked at it

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