Chapter 3: What is this feeling?
Chapter 3: What is this feeling?
Amara
I unlock my camera and adjust my lens. I love taking pictures. Someone once said that pictures steal a person’s soul. But the reality is that pictures capture a person’s soul. You can capture moments that reflect a person’s passion, sadness, or anger forever.
My mother thinks that photographs are for capturing designer clothing and beautiful women with fake tans and tight bodies, but there’s so much more. I find beauty through a lens everywhere. Beauty is an older woman with the wisdom of her years gleaming in her eyes. Or an innocent child who has never seen the horrific side of the world. It’s the only time that I’ve ever felt alive, and I can’t let anyone take that away from me. Especially my greedy and shallow family.
The day is chilly, but it no way compares to the chill permeating my bones. I tighten my jacket around my chest to ward off the rising coldness in my body as I make my way to the school’s greenhouse. Sometimes taking pictures of people, and doing everyday things, distracts me from the rising chill.
Mr. Avila, our photography teacher, leads us through the school’s greenhouse and points out various flowers. “Alright, everyone. Our project today is to walk around the greenhouse and capture beauty. So have at it.” He says as he makes sweeping gestures with his hands. At his orders, everyone spreads out around the greenhouse. A few girls take pictures of roses or are modeling in front of them. I roll my eyes at their antics. Some people just don’t understand real photography.
As I walk through the garden, I look around, but I don’t take pictures. I like to observe and find something that captures my attention before I break out my camera. There are some very beautiful Asiatic Lilies, Dahlias, and Daisies, but my eyes focus on a lonely, Dying Lily lying in the center of the others. The leaves are wilted, and the petals fall forward in a forlorn pose.
Seeing the flower’s sad state makes something inside me feel a little melancholy. Moving closer, I lift the camera and take pictures of its drooping leaves and faded stems.
Once I’m done taking pictures of the flower, I pull back and give it one last pitying smile before I move on. I’m really getting into finding a few subjects when Mr. Avila calls out my name. I look up as he makes his way towards me. “Ms. Vega, Mr. Moody, wants to see you right away.” My forehead scrunches up in question. “Why?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sure it’s nothing bad. You better go before he sends someone to get you.” He says before he hands me a pass and walks away.
As quickly as I can, I pack up my camera and make my way to Mr. Moody’s office. The principal’s secretary, Mrs. Chase, gives me a stern look as she ushers me in. Mrs. Chase has been the school secretary since forever. Hell, she was probably here before it was built. She has a large gray beehive hairstyle that is teased tightly to the top of her head. I seriously think she sleeps standing up just to keep her teased up hair intact. Her eyes are a watery blue color, but don’t be fooled; the woman sees everything. She has large breasts that strain against her severe buttoned-up pink lace top, and her pencil skirt and falls past her knees. She’s wearing nude compression tights and shiny, black orthopedic shoes. The woman is completely pristine and pressed.
Her eyes narrow in speculation before she opens the door to the office and waves me in. It’s a little nerve-wracking. But then again, Mrs. Chase can intimidate Hannibal Lecter. That’s how scary she is. Not wanting to stand there longer than I need to, I step around her and make my way inside Mr. Moody’s office.
As soon as I step in, Mr. Moody looks up with a phone in his ear and waves me in. Swallowing hard, I step into the room and take a seat as Mr. Moody continues to hem and haw into the phone. After a moment, he disconnects the call and gives me a welcoming smile. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Vega.”
I nod my head and look around the room. “Of course, Mr. Moody. What can I do for you?” He takes a deep breath and places a sheet in front of me. “I have a special assignment for you, Ms. Vega.” I nod my head and look down at the sheet in consternation.
Mr. Moody places his index finger on it with a firm frown. “This student has been doing poorly in class, and I need a really good tutor to help him succeed. Mr. Shelton said that you’re the best. You have excellent grades and an impressive resume of activities. Mrs. Chase showed me your file, and it looks like you have aspirations of becoming a photographer. Cal State is giving out scholarships to aspiring artists. In fact, one of our students, Mikhail Cross, received one last year. I’d be more than happy to write you a letter of recommendation and throw in a good word to one of my contacts for you. All I ask is that you help this student. He’s actually very good at math but needs help with every other subject. What do you think?” He says as he crosses his arms over his desk with a pleased smile.
My heart speeds up with excitement as he waves the proverbial carrot in front of me. It’s a great opportunity for me. I know it, and Mr. Moody knows it. Since my dream is to be a photographer and my parents, have no aspirations for me, I’ve been thinking of ways to pay school without their help. Hell, I don’t even think my mom wants me to go to college. She always tells me to marry well, and my dad doesn’t seem to care as long as I don’t make him look bad. But even he would draw the line at me being a photographer. This will probably be the last chance for me to get what I want.
Smiling, I gaze into expectant Mr. Moody's face and nod my head. “Sure, Mr. Moody. I’d be happy to help.”
Mr. Moody slams his hands down excitedly and rises from the desk with an enthusiastic grin. “Fantastic, Ms. Vega! I will set up an introduction with your tutor in the library this afternoon. He’ll be waiting for you there.”
Feeling just as ecstatic by my choice, I rise from the chair. Mr. Moody is the most exuberant person I’ve ever met. He’s a portly guy with a balding head, rosy cheeks, and large dark eyes. He’s always wearing dark suits with funny ties that make us kids roll our eyes. The tie he’s wearing today is of Snoopy flying in the sky with Woodstock behind him.
Mr. Moody rises from his leather chair and gestures for me to follow him out of the door. “Okay, then. I won’t hold you up. Let me know if there are any problems. Okay?”
I nod my head. “No problem, Mr. Moody. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I say as I step out of the room.
I had never been so excited. Mr. Moody has made me a great offer. It shouldn’t be that hard to tutor one student. I’ll work with him and get him through the year, and in the end, get the opportunity of my dreams. Not only will I get a full ride, but I’ll also get out from under my parent’s thumb.