What
ever
. Taylor thrashed around most of the night, so neither of us got much sleep.
The lack of slumber shows in her pretty faceâthe hollow eyes, dark circles, and downturned mouth. Of course, if my mom had tried to end her life and I'd found her on the living room carpet, I might be a bit sullen myself.
As I'm about to finish an expert-level sudoku puzzle, my phone buzzes out a text message. It's Jason.
>Â U c Tay?
>Â I'm in study hall.
>Â Can't find her anywhere.
>Â So?
>Â Worried @ her!
>Â She's ok
>Â U don't no that!
It's obvious that Jason's overprotective gene has kicked into double overdrive. I can't blame him, though.
When the bell rings, Jason's at my locker, concern painted across his handsome face. "I still can't find her," he proclaims.
"Calm down. She's at school. What can happen to her?"
He begins to pace. "You don't understand, Kendall."
"Sure I do. I'm the one who listened to her cry all night."
He stops and turns. "Why didn't you tell me that? Why didn't she tell me that? I haven't seen her all day."
I try to reassure him. "She's here. We came to school together in my car."
Not knowing any better, Celia jumps into the convo. "I didn't see Taylor in chemistry class. Maybe she ditched to have some time to herself."
Behind Jason's back, I mouth at Celia,
Not helping!
Jason whips out his phone and dials his sister's number. "Straight to voice mail."
"Jason, it's going to be..." I trail off. Is it really going to be okay?
He glares at me like it's my fault that he can't find his sister. "I'm going to the office to see if she's counted as absent today."
I grab at his shirtsleeve. "Don't do that. What if she is cutting? You want to get her in trouble?"
"Damn right I do!"
Good Lord.
Fortunately, the bell for last period sounds out and we all scatter to our respective classrooms, like cockroaches taking cover in a suddenly lit-up room. Gross analogy, I know, but it works here. Jason storms off toward the gym with cell phone in hand. He's
not
a happy boy right now. My intuition tells me that Taylor's okay ... she just needs some space. It's not every day that a teenager has to deal with what she's juggling. I'm not going to tell her what to do.
When school's over for the day, I gather my weekend homework and head out to the parking lot, where I see Taylor leaning against the Fit.
"Where you been,
chica?
" I ask, trying not to sound like a concerned parent.
She raises her shoulders and then lets them slump back into place. Her Nikon D40 camera hangs from her neck, and her right hand rests on top of the lens cannon as if it's a life preserver for her. "I needed some space."
"I understand."
"It was such a pretty day, I just sort of ended up walking around and taking pictures of Radisson. There's so much to see when you look through the camera. So many angles and views you never imagined. I even went to the cemetery and took some shots that I'm going to convert to black-and-white. They turned out
très magnifique
and will make a great addition on the Ghost Huntress website and my portfolio."
We rest against the side of my car and scroll through the many digital images that Taylor took today. She really is an amazing photographer and I know she'll be able to do something with it in her future. The way she frames the shot, it's almost like she's got a psychic eye and can see the result before she snaps the button.
I'm about to comment on a wicked angle of a grave marker with sun flares when Jason comes storming across the parking lot bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"Where the
hell
have you been, Taylor? I've been looking for you everywhere!" She staves him off with her hands, but he's not having any of it. "It's not bad enough that Mom's laying in the ICU fighting for her lifeâyou have to pull a disappearing act like you're some sort of toddler who's run away from home."
She arches up defensively like I've never seen before. "How dare you talk to me like
ever
. Taylor thrashed around most of the night, so neither of us got much sleep.
The lack of slumber shows in her pretty faceâthe hollow eyes, dark circles, and downturned mouth. Of course, if my mom had tried to end her life and I'd found her on the living room carpet, I might be a bit sullen myself.
As I'm about to finish an expert-level sudoku puzzle, my phone buzzes out a text message. It's Jason.
>Â U c Tay?
>Â I'm in study hall.
>Â Can't find her anywhere.
>Â So?
>Â Worried @ her!
>Â She's ok
>Â U don't no that!
It's obvious that Jason's overprotective gene has kicked into double overdrive. I can't blame him, though.
When the bell rings, Jason's at my locker, concern painted across his handsome face. "I still can't find her," he proclaims.
"Calm down. She's at school. What can happen to her?"
He begins to pace. "You don't understand, Kendall."
"Sure I do. I'm the one who listened to her cry all night."
He stops and turns. "Why didn't you tell me that? Why didn't she tell me that? I haven't seen her all day."
I try to reassure him. "She's here. We came to school together in my car."
Not knowing any better, Celia jumps into the convo. "I didn't see Taylor in chemistry class. Maybe she ditched to have some time to herself."
Behind Jason's back, I mouth at Celia,
Not helping!
Jason whips out his phone and dials his sister's number. "Straight to voice mail."
"Jason, it's going to be..." I trail off. Is it really going to be okay?
He glares at me like it's my fault that he can't find his sister. "I'm going to the office to see if she's counted as absent today."
I grab at his shirtsleeve. "Don't do that. What if she is cutting? You want to get her in trouble?"
"Damn right I do!"
Good Lord.
Fortunately, the bell for last period sounds out and we all scatter to our respective classrooms, like cockroaches taking cover in a suddenly lit-up room. Gross analogy, I know, but it works here. Jason storms off toward the gym with cell phone in hand. He's
not
a happy boy right now. My intuition tells me that Taylor's okay ... she just needs some space. It's not every day that a teenager has to deal with what she's juggling. I'm not going to tell her what to do.
When school's over for the day, I gather my weekend homework and head out to the parking lot, where I see Taylor leaning against the Fit.
"Where you been,
chica?
" I ask, trying not to sound like a concerned parent.
She raises her shoulders and then lets them slump back into place. Her Nikon D40 camera hangs from her neck, and her right hand rests on top of the lens cannon as if it's a life preserver for her. "I needed some space."
"I understand."
"It was such a pretty day, I just sort of ended up walking around and taking pictures of Radisson. There's so much to see when you look through the camera. So many angles and views you never imagined. I even went to the cemetery and took some shots that I'm going to convert to black-and-white. They turned out
très magnifique
and will make a great addition on the Ghost Huntress website and my portfolio."
We rest against the side of my car and scroll through the many digital images that Taylor took today. She really is an amazing photographer and I know she'll be able to do something with it in her future. The way she frames the shot, it's almost like she's got a psychic eye and can see the result before she snaps the button.
I'm about to comment on a wicked angle of a grave marker with sun flares when Jason comes storming across the parking lot bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"Where the
hell
have you been, Taylor? I've been looking for you everywhere!" She staves him off with her hands, but he's not having any of it. "It's not bad enough that Mom's laying in the ICU fighting for her lifeâyou have to pull a disappearing act like you're some sort of toddler who's run away from home."
She arches up defensively like I've never seen before. "How dare you talk to me like
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