your dad?"
I nod.
"Look at his hair! It's so big and
springy.
"
Yep. It still looks the same." I munch a cookie, thinking that Marissa never talks about her dad. I'm just about to say, "What's your dad like?" when she comes back to the table and reaches for the package of cookies. "Do you mind if I take some of these?"
Take them where?"
For later."
"Oh. No. Take as many as you want."
She wraps up a handful of cookies in a napkin and slides them into the pocket of her backpack.
Strange.
"Okay, tough girl. Let's get started," I say.
The walls in the kitchen are pale yellow, perfect for a neutral background. I shoot a bunch of pictures of Marissa's eye from various distances and angles, then take her outside for a few photos in natural daylight. I even attach a telephoto lens for some of them, so the bruise will really fill up the frame. These are going to be good.
Marissa borrows my camera, since hers is at home, and wanders around the backyard shooting close-ups of plants. There's not a ton of stuff blooming, since it's September, but she finds some frilly girly purple ones and a few tall white ones. She asks me for a ladder, which I'm pleased to locate in the garageâwho knew?âand climbs up a few rungs to take pictures of an abandoned bird's nest in a tree. After she takes a couple of pictures of the nest, she stares at it for a minute, then takes off her rings and bracelets. She arranges the jewelry in the nest and takes photos of that.
"Do you have any glass animals?" she asks suddenly.
"What?"
"You know, little glass figures? Or ceramic. They give them away in those boxes of Red Rose tea."
I look at her blankly.
"Never mind. My grandma drinks Red Rose tea, and she saves the little ceramic figurines that come in the box. I was thinking I could put a hen or some other animal in the nest. Oh! A cat would be funny."
I have an idea. "Wait here," I say.
I go inside the house and head for my mom's desk. Sitting on the windowsill above her desk is a little ceramic angel I bought her for Mother's Day about five years ago.
I carry the ceramic angel outside to Marissa. I hold it up for her to see. "Will this work?"
She gasps and says, "Ohhhh!" She stares down at it for a moment, then reaches into her jeans pocket. She pulls out a tiny silver-gray charm. Pewter, I think it's called. "Look."
I take it from her. It's an angel.
"Whoa," I say, and hum the
Twilight Zone
music. "Do you always carry this around?" I examine it more closely. Engraved on the back of the angel's wings is a word: KAT.
"Kat?"
She doesn't answer, and I glance up at her.
Her eyes ... they've got that heartbroken look really bad right now. "Um, I don't feel like talking about that. But yeah, I always carry my angel around with me." She holds her hand out for the charm, and I give it back to her. She puts it in her pocket.
"Here," I say. "You can use this one for your photo." I hold out the ceramic angel.
"Maybe we better not."
"Why?"
"I'm scared I might drop it."
"Just be careful. Here."
She takes it out of my hand and positions it as carefully as if the fate of the world rested on that angel being safe in the nest. Then she zooms in and out, trying various distances for effect.
"Hello," calls my mom from the back door. "What's up?"
Marissa jumps so hard the ladder shakes.
"Easy!" I say.
"Oh, no! Is that your mom? She's going to be mad!"
I steady the ladder. "What? No, she won't."
We took her angel!"
It's okay. Hi," I call back to Mom.
"Oh. A girl is what's up," says my mom. "What are you guys doing?"
"Taking pictures."
"I see." She comes outside and squints up at Marissa. "Hi. I'm Benita."
"Nice to meet you," says Marissa. "I'm Marissa." She giggles at the awkwardness of her position and comes down the ladder to shake Mom's hand.
"Don't stop what you're doing on my account," says my mom.
"No, we're finished," says Marissa. "Blake, do you need help with the ladder?"
"What? No! No, I got it," I say, stepping forward
I nod.
"Look at his hair! It's so big and
springy.
"
Yep. It still looks the same." I munch a cookie, thinking that Marissa never talks about her dad. I'm just about to say, "What's your dad like?" when she comes back to the table and reaches for the package of cookies. "Do you mind if I take some of these?"
Take them where?"
For later."
"Oh. No. Take as many as you want."
She wraps up a handful of cookies in a napkin and slides them into the pocket of her backpack.
Strange.
"Okay, tough girl. Let's get started," I say.
The walls in the kitchen are pale yellow, perfect for a neutral background. I shoot a bunch of pictures of Marissa's eye from various distances and angles, then take her outside for a few photos in natural daylight. I even attach a telephoto lens for some of them, so the bruise will really fill up the frame. These are going to be good.
Marissa borrows my camera, since hers is at home, and wanders around the backyard shooting close-ups of plants. There's not a ton of stuff blooming, since it's September, but she finds some frilly girly purple ones and a few tall white ones. She asks me for a ladder, which I'm pleased to locate in the garageâwho knew?âand climbs up a few rungs to take pictures of an abandoned bird's nest in a tree. After she takes a couple of pictures of the nest, she stares at it for a minute, then takes off her rings and bracelets. She arranges the jewelry in the nest and takes photos of that.
"Do you have any glass animals?" she asks suddenly.
"What?"
"You know, little glass figures? Or ceramic. They give them away in those boxes of Red Rose tea."
I look at her blankly.
"Never mind. My grandma drinks Red Rose tea, and she saves the little ceramic figurines that come in the box. I was thinking I could put a hen or some other animal in the nest. Oh! A cat would be funny."
I have an idea. "Wait here," I say.
I go inside the house and head for my mom's desk. Sitting on the windowsill above her desk is a little ceramic angel I bought her for Mother's Day about five years ago.
I carry the ceramic angel outside to Marissa. I hold it up for her to see. "Will this work?"
She gasps and says, "Ohhhh!" She stares down at it for a moment, then reaches into her jeans pocket. She pulls out a tiny silver-gray charm. Pewter, I think it's called. "Look."
I take it from her. It's an angel.
"Whoa," I say, and hum the
Twilight Zone
music. "Do you always carry this around?" I examine it more closely. Engraved on the back of the angel's wings is a word: KAT.
"Kat?"
She doesn't answer, and I glance up at her.
Her eyes ... they've got that heartbroken look really bad right now. "Um, I don't feel like talking about that. But yeah, I always carry my angel around with me." She holds her hand out for the charm, and I give it back to her. She puts it in her pocket.
"Here," I say. "You can use this one for your photo." I hold out the ceramic angel.
"Maybe we better not."
"Why?"
"I'm scared I might drop it."
"Just be careful. Here."
She takes it out of my hand and positions it as carefully as if the fate of the world rested on that angel being safe in the nest. Then she zooms in and out, trying various distances for effect.
"Hello," calls my mom from the back door. "What's up?"
Marissa jumps so hard the ladder shakes.
"Easy!" I say.
"Oh, no! Is that your mom? She's going to be mad!"
I steady the ladder. "What? No, she won't."
We took her angel!"
It's okay. Hi," I call back to Mom.
"Oh. A girl is what's up," says my mom. "What are you guys doing?"
"Taking pictures."
"I see." She comes outside and squints up at Marissa. "Hi. I'm Benita."
"Nice to meet you," says Marissa. "I'm Marissa." She giggles at the awkwardness of her position and comes down the ladder to shake Mom's hand.
"Don't stop what you're doing on my account," says my mom.
"No, we're finished," says Marissa. "Blake, do you need help with the ladder?"
"What? No! No, I got it," I say, stepping forward
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