Never Enough by Denise Jaden Page A

only I’d been able to submit a photography portfolio.
    Mr. Dewdney chattered on about the mediums he wanted us to explore during the last month of classes. I didn’t paymuch attention until he said, “You’ll find some interesting paper supplies in the darkroom at the back.”
    “The what?” I blurted. Everyone stared at me, so I sheepishly raised my hand.
    Mr. Dewdney furrowed his brow and nodded in my direction. His beard looked like he hadn’t bothered to trim it since the beginning of the year, and I wondered if there were rules about stuff like that.
    “Um, did you say ‘darkroom,’ Mr. Dewdney?” With all twenty-nine other students’ eyes on me, I muttered, “I was just . . .” My eyes moved to my desk in front of me. “Curious.”
    “Yes. Of course, with the popularity of digital cameras these days, our room is used predominantly for storage now.” Mr. Dewdney cleared his throat. “It was originally designed as a small room to develop film prints,” he said slowly, as though we’d all have trouble understanding the concept.
    “All right, then.” Mr. Dewdney clapped his hands.
    My hand shot up again.
    Mr. Dewdney stroked his scruffy face and looked back at me. Thankfully, the other students seemed to be losing interest.
    “Can I use it?”
    Mr. Dewdney’s eyebrows pulled together. “The darkroom,” I said.
    He pursed his lips like he was thinking about it. “Talk to me after class.”
    *   *   *
     
    After the rest of the students filed out of the room, I stopped next to the giant metal teacher’s desk. Mr. Dewdney looked up at me with a blank expression.
    “The darkroom?” I offered.
    “Mmm, yes.” He took a sip from his coffee mug. “Now why do you want to use it, Miss . . . ?”
    “Rochester. Loann Rochester.” He still didn’t remember my last name after an entire year of art with him. Why do you think I would want to use it? I felt like saying. “Um, to develop my film?”
    “Oh. You don’t have a digital camera?”
    I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed. Up until now I’d thought myself lucky to have the camera I’d been given. But his tone, it made me feel so . . . incomplete.
    “Have you ever developed your own film?” Mr. Dewdney asked.
    “Mm-hmm,” I lied. Surely I could figure it out.
    “Well . . . I can’t leave a student here alone, and I’m only here a few afternoons per week.”
    “So I can use it?” I bounced a little off my heels. “Thanks, Mr. Dewdney!” I held myself back from giving him a hug and practically skipped for the hallway. I didn’t have any film with me, but I’d bring some tomorrow.
    How hard could it be?

CHAPTER NINE
     
    All Marcus usually wanted to do was go for coffee, and soon I developed a taste for it. But he’d paid so many times that I’d lost track of how much I owed him. I didn’t exactly have allowance money sprouting from my pockets. I decided before he could offer up his invite today, I would offer my own.
    “Why don’t you come to my place?” I said from my side of a pile of scrap metal we were sifting through out behind the metalwork shop.
    He tossed a rod he’d been studying back into the pile with a bit too much force. His eyes glazed over. I kept watching him, but he just kept pulling hunks of metal off and chucking them back without a reply.
    “No one’s there after school,” I added. “We can make coffee if you want.”
    “I guess,” he muttered as the bell rang. There was more to this, but I wasn’t sure what, and so I wasn’t sure if I should ask.
    *   *   *
     
    Inside our front door, Marcus stood glued to the mat while I threw my jacket and shoes in the direction of the closet.
    “Come on. It’s okay. And no one’s home, anyway.” He still didn’t move, even as I headed for the kitchen. “Seriously.”
    Slowly he pulled at the back of his sneakers to get them off.
    “Do you want coffee?” I asked, even though I had no idea how to start up Mom’s ancient