It was in October that I was out raking leaves with my mom and my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize. I answered anyway; it was Richie from Passport Photos.
“Hey, kid,” he said.
He’d never called me before. It was strange to hear his voice on the phone.
“What are you doing this weekend?” he said.
“Uh . . .”
“I got a photography gig,” he said. “In Seattle.”
“Yeah?”
“From a magazine. Travel and Leisure. Ever heard of it?”
“Sure,” I said, though I hadn’t really.
“Paid gig. Gonna drive up there Saturday. You wanna go?”
“Me . . . ?”
“You can be my assistant. Ask your parents.”
I put the phone to my chest and turned to my mother. “Can I go to Seattle this weekend?”
“What for?”
“The guy from the camera store has a gig up there.”
“What sort of gig?”
“Taking pictures,” I told my mother. “For a magazine.”
“Ask your father.”
I lifted the phone to my face again. “What sort of gig exactly?”
“A pro gig. A travel piece. Some guy wrote an article and we’ll take the pictures. The Space Needle. Pike’s Market. All that. We’ll spend the night. I’ll pay you.”
“Really? How much?”
“Fifty bucks.”
I turned to my mom. “He said he’s going to pay me.”
“Who is he?”
“The guy from the camera store.”
My mother frowned. “Ask your father.”
• • •
There was a big case going on at my dad’s law firm. He’d been coming home late and going straight to his upstairs office, where he worked even later.
I knocked on his door. He told me to come in. He was eating microwaved lasagna from a plate. He had two computers going at once.
“Hey, Dad,” I said.
He stared up at me. He looked very tired. Very stressed out.
I didn’t want to take up too much of his time. “I have to ask you something.”
“What?”
“You know how I was trying out Russell’s camera?”
“Well, I’ve been hanging out at this camera store. And talking to the guy there. He has a paid job taking pictures of Seattle. For a travel magazine. And he wants me to go with him. And be his assistant.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Richie.”
“What kind of person is he?”
“His uncle owns the Passport Photos store downtown. He wants to be a photographer.”
“And what will you do?”
“I’ll be his assistant. I’ll carry stuff.”
“And why did he pick you?”
“He likes my stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“My photographs.”
My father frowned. The idea of me as a photographer was so ridiculous to him, he couldn’t talk about it. “Well, I don’t care. Ask your mother.”
I didn’t ask her. I went into my own room and called Richie and told him I’d do it.
• • •
That was on a Wednesday. So I had a couple days before we went. At first I didn’t think about it much. I was like, okay, I’m going to Seattle on Saturday. I’d been to Seattle before. I’d played in tennis tournaments there. But then Thursday at school, it hit me what I was doing. I got more excited and a little bit scared. I had no idea what it was like, being on a real photography job.
On Friday there was a big party at Krista Hoffman’s McMansion. Krista and Ashley had become the new party girls over the summer. Krista was a pretty visible person in general, for a sophomore. She was always running around, being adorable with her wavy blond hair. Her whole face squeezed together when she got excited, which was a lot.
So then, since Claude and I were becoming friends again, he called me and we rode over together in his BMW. Hanna, who still ignored me for the most part, came up to me when we arrived and gave me a hug. So everything was basically cool with the three of us again. Which was a great relief.
The party was awesome. Krista was running around in this white dress, with a red ski hat with a big puffball on top that everyone was swatting at. She was being the party girl, I guess. She literally bounced up and down when she talked.
I was excited about going to Seattle the next day, so I was in a good mood. We started dancing, Hanna and Logan and some other people. Olivia showed up too, with Rachel Lehman, of all people, who I hadn’t talked to since she left for the San Juans halfway through the summer. She did her usual thing of looking super hot and then not talking. So you had no idea what she was thinking. I tried to act casual and just smile at her.
Hanna and Claude left pretty early, so I wandered around and got a beer and went into the backyard. Bennett and some of his drug buddies were out there. They had started showing up at such places—the better parties—that year. They had taken over the big patio table, so I sat with them. They were smoking a joint and grinning like people do when they’re high.
Then Antoinette and Kai showed up. So now they were coming to the cool parties too. They looked suspicious of the whole thing and a little out of place. They walked into the backyard and sat on a bench against the wall and lit cigarettes. I watched Bennett watch Antoinette. The word was that Antoinette had broken his heart pretty badly. Judging from his facial expressions, that was an accurate description. I had never thought—or cared—about the two of them as a couple. But I thought about it now. She must have recognized that he wasn’t the total loser everyone thought he was. In some ways she had helped him evolve out of his loser-ness. But what did he see in her? The same thing I saw. Her confidence. And that quality she had where she seemed to be thinking all the time. She wasn’t just some pissed-off teenager. She had a plan. It was like she knew the future and was already preparing for it. She was going to learn the things she needed to learn. She was going to do the things she needed to do. And the rest of it: high school, social life, teachers, parents . . . it was just noise to her. It didn’t matter in the slightest.
• • •
Later that night I ended up smoking a joint with Logan and Olivia and Rachel Lehman, in Krista’s sister’s bedroom. Logan and Olivia were giggling and goofing around. Rachel and I smiled at each other a lot but didn’t really talk.
Logan got up to piss. And when he didn’t come back, Olivia went to look for him. So then Rachel and I were sitting there together in the dim light, both of us stoned and sipping on our Amstel Lights.
“How’s school?” I asked her.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“That was fun playing tennis last summer.”
“Yeah,” she said.
We sat there.
“You look really high,” I said, grinning.
“So do you.”
“Your eyes are like little slits,” I said.
“Your eyes are all shiny.”
Now she was grinning too. And doing flirty things with her hair.
“I wanted to hang out with you more last summer,” I said. “But you went on vacation for, like, five weeks!”
“I did.”
I laughed. “You broke my heart,” I said.
“Did I?”
“A little bit.”
“Well, I’m here now,” she said.
We looked at each other for a moment. Then I leaned in to kiss her. With great smoothness and grace, she met my lips with hers. Wow. She was a great kisser. I mean, unbelievable. I scooted closer.
We made out. The door opened at one point, but neither of us looked up. It closed again.
Later, when we returned to the party, she ran off with Olivia. I didn’t see her again that night. But that was okay. We had seriously made out, which meant I could call her again.
• • •
The next morning my alarm went off at six a.m. I gathered up my stuff for Seattle and went downstairs and ate some cereal. I let the thought I made out with Rachel Lehman go through my mind once. Then I got back to business.
I drove in the dark to the address Richie had given me. It was on the east side, in an odd neighborhood I had never been to before. The houses were older and small and they had old-style concrete driveways that were so narrow they could barely fit a modern car. This was Richie’s uncle’s house, it turned out. Richie lived in his spare room.
I tapped lightly on the front door as I had been instructed. Richie came to the door and opened it and shushed me to stay quiet. There was a lot of crap on the floor. Lights, umbrellas, tripods, rolls of cable and cords, several different camera cases.
I quietly grabbed some of it and followed him out the door. When he got outside and saw the RAV4, he stopped.
“This yours?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I whispered back.
“Let’s take your car.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“My parents.”
“What about them?”
“They didn’t give me permission to drive to Seattle.”
“How are they going to know? C’mon. Open the door. Hurry up.”
“But what if they find out?”
“How will they find out?”
So we took my car.
• • •
We were on the interstate when the sun came up. Richie drank coffee and rocked his head to the radio. He had his foot up on the dash. He wore black jeans and motorcycle boots.
“This is a sweet ride,” he said to me.
“It’s not mine. It’s my brother’s.”
“Where’s he at?”
“He’s at college. Back East.”
“Nice. I like the sound of that. College. Back East. That’s what I should have done. Instead of hanging around my uncle’s shop.”
I drove. “Well, you got a good gig at least,” I said. “Travel and Leisure. How much do you get paid for this?”
“Not enough,” he said.
“That’s okay,” I said. “It’ll be good experience. You’re getting your foot in the door.”
“Yeah, yeah. Good experience. Foot in the door.” He sipped his coffee. “You got a lot to learn, kid.”