Page 40 of Smile for the Camera

At every table in Blossoms, other contestants practice too. They project enough that Mr. Daniels wouldn’t ask them to do so if he were here. Sandra and Aaliyah exchange tips and praise as they practice together. I look at the chair across from me—it’s the only one here that’s empty. At first, I was relieved the contestants and staff were the only audience members allowed. Now, though, I stretch my arm across the table and hold my photo in front of the chair, locking photograph Nora in focus, so it would feel like my best friend is here. I practice again, my voice shaking with every word, ending my mock presentation with a sigh. I don’t know how I’m going to present to an audience if I can’t even present to a photo of my best friend. My parents’ additional study sessions and practice quizzes consumed more time than I had hoped, leaving me no chances to prepare for today’s presentation.

Onstage, Jaya, the barista with the tattoos, sets up the projector. Alondra and Jian, the other two baristas, divide their work, walking from table to table to explain how the presentations will work. In front of the stage, there’s a longer table where the manager couple sits. They must be the judges.

“Hi there!” Alondra greets. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I say because I have to be.

“Great! Jaya will call everyone’s name in the order they signed up. You’ll walk on stage and place your photo on the projector. Jian”—she nods, smiling lovingly, to Jian—“will cue you to start. I’ll time you to make sure you don’t go over four minutes.”

Alondra studies the room, grinning the way my mom does when she looks at photographs of me and Aprilette playing langit-lupa, five-year-old me being the slowest tagger ever.

“Man, this brings me back to when I had to present my screenplays to my classes at Dillon College of Arts,” she says.

So Alondra went to an arts school? How she casts a gaze at the room, she must’ve liked it there. I wonder if she still writes screenplays and has attempted to break into the film industry.

“Do you have any more questions?”

A million. Though I have so many to ask, like how the classes were at Dillon College of Arts and if graduating from there was worth the degree, I only say, “I’ll ask you when I can.”

“Okay, sounds great! Best of luck!”

I want to say the same goes for her and her screenplay writing. I really do hope I can see her scripts come to life in movies or TV shows. Instead, I reply, “Thank you.”

She passes by Jian and squeezes his shoulder as he finishes speaking to another contestant. He flashes her a smile and strolls along with her.

Jaya strides across the stage, iPad held in one hand, and adjusts the microphone to her height. I feel a bowling ball drop in my stomach. I already know what’s next, yet it feels too soon.

“Are we ready?” Jaya says into the microphone.

“Yeah!” everyone projects.

I’m the only one whose voice shakes saying “Yeah.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Jaya says. She has the perfect presenting voice. “We’re very excited to not only see your photographs but also hear from you! My girlfriend once said that anyone can judge your art, give their interpretation and their critiques. But only you can deliver its true message.”

Wise words from her girlfriend. I’ll keep them in mind.

In game show presenter style, Jaya waves to the managers. “Here are your lovely judges. The managers of Blossoms and photographers themselves, Don and Michelle McIntosh!”

The couple turns around and waves at everyone. Michelle, the redhaired woman, smiles the way celebrities do at red carpet events while Don maintains a serious face.

Michelle picks up her microphone from the table. “It’s wonderful to see you all! I’m Michelle, manager of Blossoms, photographer, and Jansen School of Arts alum!”

Michelle McIntosh seems friendly, but this last sentence adds more to the pressure. I should’ve known that actual photographers, who just happen to be the managers, would judge this competition. Who else would it be?

Don McIntosh lifts his microphone to his mouth, and with his bushy beard, he looks like Santa Claus without all the Christmas jolliness. “And I am Don McIntosh, the co-manager of Blossoms, here with my lovely wife, and I am also a photographer and alum of Jansen School of Arts.”

Don breaks down the history of Jansen, detailing that Jimmy Jansen was a man who wanted to not only capture his world but also capture himself, and he needed more than words to do that. Jimmy Jansen founded the school so people could work on their art while figuring out the message they want to deliver.

“We are holding this competition because Don and I want to sponsor a local teen, give them the opportunity to attend the school that made us love photography even more than we did before,” Michelle explains.

“But Jansen isn’t just looking for photographers,” Don adds. “They’re looking for students with passion, visionaries. It’s a rigorous school where you’ll have to present your photos every week. Art isn’t just about what you make but also how you express it into words.”

What have I gotten myself into? It would be easy for me to walk out and focus this whole summer on studying and finishing my homework. But I stay seated.

“Best of luck, everyone!” Michelle says.

Don holds a thumbs up to Jaya, cueing her to start, and she thanks him and Michelle for their introductions.