Page 71 of Smile for the Camera

My shoes squeak against the navy floor as I cross through the room, passing by a row of long tables, the walls stamped with vibrant paintings. There’s a cabinet on one side, and luckily it’s not locked, so I open it easily, the rows labeled with tags for each specific kind of paper and folder. I glimpse at my phone. Seven minutes left, but as long as I can log into my Photoshop account on a browser, I can print quickly. Jase texts me his computer login info, and I pull up my photo from my account. Once I edit my photo and adjust the printer settings, I head to the cabinet, grab a sheet of matte photo printing paper and a protective folder, and print. The first few prints, the colors come out muddy or dull, so I continue adjusting the settings. But on the next print, it’s perfect. I smile admiring my work. I like the faint orange and yellow hues from the lights.

My phone rings. Time’s up. But when I check my screen, dread sinks into my stomach. We’re supposed to check in for the exam at 12:30, right? When I reread Mrs. Sanderson’s email, though, that dread in my stomach plunges. All the color leaves my face, and my head spirals out of control.

The cutoff time for our practice math exam was actually 12:15. It’s already 12:20. How did I get the time wrong?

“Oh no,” I mumble. I just stand there, gripping my phone so tightly I fear I might crush it. How irresponsible could I have been?

I hear Jase’s footsteps approach me. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“We missed the other exam.”

“Shit.”

“I know.” I rub my hand against my face. “My parents are going to kill me.”

Jase wraps his arms around me, slowly, as if to make sure I’m okay with such physical interaction. When I lean into him, thankful that he’s been here this whole time, he fully envelops me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers. He feels warm and soft like a blanket.

“I hope so,” I say against his chest. “I’m sorry, Jase.”

“For what?”

“I’m making you miss the test, too.”

He hugs me tighter, so tight the buttons on his shirt press into my arm. “Don’t worry about me, Emilyn. I probably would’ve failed, anyway. But what about you?”

I shrug. “I just hate myself for wasting my parents’ money.”

“No, don’t.”

Hearing him say this, so sweet and gentle like his smile, like the way he strums his guitar for the slower songs, I tell him more, like how stupid I feel for not checking the time, and for not double-checking that my photo was in my tote bag. He hugs me into a full embrace, and it’s so natural to wrap my arms around his waist, embracing him too.

Since we already missed the exam, we kill time by exchanging more photographs and songs. There’s magic to talking about my photos, to listening to Jase talk about his music, and any fears or anger I have for messing up the time, I don’t dwell on them. I even practice my presentation.

After I log out of my account, Jase turns off the computer, and together we readjust the supplies in the cabinet. Once I place my photo in the folder, we make sure everything is closed and turned off before heading back outside.

At the gate, Jase says, “I’ll climb up first, then you can hand me your picture.” He nods to my hand, my photo sheathed in the folder. “Don’t want all your hard work to get ruined when you’re climbing.”

A grin blooms across my face. “That’d be perfect, thanks!”

As promised, Jase climbs first, and once he lands on the other side, I hand him my photo. He’s truly the perfect partner in crime. I climb my way to the other side, a jolt of excitement running through me as I hop down to the concrete ground. The sun is our spotlight as we stride back to Jase’s car. Getting through all this trouble was...really fun, especially with Jase by my side.

“So, you’ve missed a test, snuck into a school, and used classroom stuff that isn’t yours,” he says as we buckle into our seats. “You really are a badass.”

“I’m a badass goody-two-shoes.”

We drive off as “Back in Black” by AC/DC, a song we both like, blasts from Jase’s speakers.

Chapter Twenty-Five

This presentation is my best one yet.

The whole time I stand in a power stance, projecting every word as I elaborate on how my window and blinds frame the outside. The blinds are a barricade to keep you safe, but they also barricade you from seeing everything beyond your shelter. You can only imagine the world instead of living, breathing, everything the world offers. I stumble a few times explaining my editing, but I keep talking, keep projecting. After all, like I say in my presentation, bravery is overcoming that barricade, your obstacle, to see the world so the world sees you.

I return home wondering if I should feel guilty or proud that I trespassed into Wilson High. On one hand, I got away with breaking a law. On the other, I channeled my inner Mulan and climbed my way to sneak into a school I don’t attend. Adrenaline jolts through me as I recall my fingers gripping around the bars, the chipped paint hot against my palms. Straddling over the gate felt like reaching the highest point of a mountain. So satisfying that, with enough bravery, I’d do it again just to relive the thrill. I think I understand what Nora means about having “a true summer vacay.”

My mom is chopping carrots when I cross through the house.