Chapter 5

Although Megan thought about Robert, she ignored him and everyone else for a couple of days. She concentrated on her studies, on zipping through her classes. That always brought her back to real life. The idea of graduating in May was starting to sink in. It didn’t seem possible, but if she didn’t keep up her grades, it wouldn’t be possible.

Robert found her in the newspaper office, typing, on Thursday morning. He said nothing about her refusing to write the article for the paper. He was all business.

“Megan, have you seen Derrick? He wasn’t in school yesterday, and I can’t find him this morning either. He’s not in first period. He was supposed to have some pictures of Cynthia and her attendants for Naomi’s article on Homecoming. I can’t go to press without them.”

“He took the pictures last night. Cynthia told me.”

Cynthia had also told Megan she’d hated every minute of posing for Derrick. She’d let him know right off that she’d made up with Gus and was going to the dance with him. She said Derrick didn’t seem angry, but he kept smiling at her the whole time he took the photos for the paper. It gave her the creeps.

“Derrick is always on time with his photos. He’s my most dependable photographer.” Robert paced the floor.

“Maybe he’s at home working on them,” Megan suggested. “I’ll bet he’ll deliver by noon.”

“If he doesn’t, will you cut out of lunch early and go with me to his house? I called there and got no answer.”

“He’s probably in his darkroom. I think he lives there.”

By noon there was still no Derrick and no photos. Megan and Robert left before the lunch hour was over, but she knew she’d still be late for history class. Megan didn’t mind. Living today was more interesting than studying the past. Especially being with Robert. He didn’t seem angry at her and had probably forgotten her sharpness. In case he hadn’t, she apologized.

“Robert, I’m sorry about being so negative the other morning about the psychic. It’s just a hang-up that I have about that kind of thing.”

“No problem. I interviewed her and she seemed like a perfectly normal person.”

Megan laughed. “She didn’t tell you a mysterious redheaded woman might enter your life?” She dared to flirt.

“No, but sounds like a good idea. Will you go to the Homecoming Dance with me, Megan? We’ll need to take pictures, but we might sneak in a dance or two.”

“All play and no work.” Megan teased to hide her excitement.

“Makes for no newspaper and the end of our reputation for the best school paper west of the Mississippi. I’ll risk it.” Robert laughed.

“Me too. I’d love to go.”

Robert’s Camaro was a welcome change from Derrick’s van. It was metallic blue and hummed like the well-cared-for machine that it was. Robert had bought the car himself and fixed it up. He smiled at Megan. She felt a slight stirring in the pit of her stomach that hadn’t been there before when she looked at him.

At the beginning of the school year Derrick had moved into a rambling, two-story Spanish-style house two blocks from Megan’s. It spoke of money with its cultivated yard and patio. There was a wrought-iron sculpture on the patio area, abstract, expensive, strange-looking.

“Some people’s idea of art is far from mine,” Robert joked.

“Derrick’s mother’s, to be exact. There are more of the same style inside. Some are marble.” Megan had only been inside Derrick’s house once, when the neighbors had surprised the Ameses with a welcoming party. During that visit Derrick had shown Megan the darkroom he’d built in his bedroom. It was the best one Megan had ever been in. Even so, the house was a cold, unwelcoming place.

Mrs. Ames answered the door. She was a heavyset woman with pampered hands and stylish hair, overdressed for a Thursday afternoon. Megan thought she had probably been beautiful once, but she looked used-up now.

“Your phone may be out of order, Mrs. Ames,” Robert said. “I tried to call several times. Is Derrick home?”

“I was playing bridge. Just got home. Derrick has a cold, and I made him stay home.” Mrs. Ames smiled. Megan found her sticky-sweet personality hard to take. She was divorced, and she and Derrick lived alone. And the rumor around the development was that she had a drinking problem. Megan suspected that Mrs. Ames spoiled Derrick terribly, and she also seemed to treat him like a baby. “You know his health is delicate.” She didn’t invite Megan and Robert in. They stood awkwardly on the porch.

Robert was getting impatient. “He has some pictures we need for the newspaper, Mrs. Ames. Would you call him?”

“He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s in his darkroom. He spends far too much time in there.”

“Can we go up to his room?” Megan suggested.

“Oh no. I’ll go up there. He might need something by now anyway.” Mrs. Ames motioned for Robert and Megan to come in and headed upstairs—somewhat reluctantly, it seemed to Megan. In fact, she detected a hint of fear in Mrs. Ames’s voice and manner. Was Derrick nasty when his mother disturbed him?

As they waited Megan began to feel a funny itching around her wrists. She rubbed them and the itch turned to pain. She shook both hands to get rid of the sensation.

“I’m glad I’m not an only child,” Robert said, distracting Megan.

“You’ve forgotten that I am. But my parents don’t treat me like that, thank goodness. Maybe that’s why Derrick is so quiet. There’s no one at home that he wants to talk to.”

“Where’s his father?”

“I don’t think anyone knows. I can see why he left his wife though,” Megan whispered, stifling a giggle.

“Naughty, naughty.” Robert fingered a wroughtiron sculpture that moved slowly when touched. It balanced on a piece of marble and stainless steel.

Mrs. Ames cleared her throat as if to say Robert shouldn’t touch things. “Derrick is busy. He handed me this packet through the door.”

Robert took the manila envelope and shuffled through the pictures. “Thanks, Mrs. Ames. This is what I need.”

Megan led the way out of the house, with its cloying atmosphere. There was a look in Mrs. Ames’s eyes that Megan didn’t like. She couldn’t put a label on it, but she made some connection to her wrists itching again. The sensation stopped the minute she got back in Robert’s car.

“Did you get a creepy feeling, being in there?” Megan asked Robert.

“Just that I wouldn’t want to live there. Seemed like an unpopular museum. I don’t blame Derrick for hiding out in his darkroom.”

“This may sound crazy, but I got the idea that Mrs. Ames was afraid of something, maybe even Derrick.”

“Yes, that’s crazy, Megan. She was probably just a little tipsy.” Robert laughed.

Megan shrugged off the idea and shuffled through the pictures as Robert headed for school. Cynthia, Bunny, Roxie MacNeil, Marva James, Candy Gilford, and Lora Santana. Pasteboard smiles on pasteboard girls. Except for Cynthia, none of the beauties had much going for her except looks. Was it true that when you were physically beautiful, you didn’t have to work so hard to cultivate talent or inner beauty? Or was that a cliché? Five of these six girls just happened to be among those who didn’t bother to cultivate anything else.

Actually, Lora Santana loved horses and was a good rider. She’d been Stock Show Queen last year. Roxie and Bunny worked on the paper, but they confined their news to lightweight subject matter. Roxie was good at layout and collecting ads. Merchants dazzled by her looks probably bought ads to see her smile.

Megan scolded herself. She was being catty, and maybe even a bit jealous of such an array of glamour. Derrick had done his job well. They all looked relaxed, beautiful, and were caught in a good light, one that flattered their features. If Derrick ever wanted to do fashion photography, he’d be successful.

“Thanks, Megan. For some reason I didn’t want to go out there alone. I hope you won’t get any flak for being late to your history class.” Robert parked his car in the school lot and they scrambled out.

It was worth it, Megan thought. She was excited about the weekend now. She was really looking forward to Homecoming.