A Picture Says a Thousand Uh-Ohs
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll just come back at the end of the summer,” I said with a shrug, my eyes on the court.
I glanced at Terrance when he didn’t immediately respond, his mouth hanging open. “What?” I asked.
“Are you seriously considering not doing the fall semester all of a sudden?” he asked, his thumb scrolling his phone as he gawked at me.
I shrugged again.
He whistled, low and long. “You’ve got it bad,” he said, his eyes leaving my face and returning to his cell.
I pulled back. “Got it bad for what?” I asked, my attention grabbed by the referee’s whistle. “What just happened?” I motioned toward the court as Terrance’s eyes stayed on his phone.
“No clue,” he said, setting his phone on the bleacher next to him.
“Oh,” I said, watching Serena ready her serve. “Out of bounds, them.”
Terrance nodded, resting his feet on the seat below. He leaned forward, his elbows sliding onto his thighs.
“I know I’ve already told you this—the play was awesome. I loved your lighting; it was gorgeous,” I said, bumping into him.
“Thanks,” he said, tilting his head to look at me. “I’m surprised you saw any of it, though.” He smirked.
“What does that mean?” I asked, watching the other team volley the ball.
“I heard about you and Hudson.”
I scrunched my nose as I glanced his way. “What does that mean?” I asked with more emphasis.
“It means I heard you were more interested in Hudson than you were in the show.” A smile creeped at the left side of his mouth.
“Oh my God,” I said, shoving him lightly.
“And now it seems like you’re more interested in Hudson than Paris—”
“Uh, no,” I interrupted, my stomach dropping in the process.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “You literally just said you were thinking about coming home at the end of the summer. That was never the plan. Regardless of the question, the answer was always Paris.”
I scratched my head, avoiding eye contact with Terrance, despite his desperate attempt to grab my gaze.
“Am I wrong?” he asked, giving up on trying to make eye contact.
I took a long sip from my water bottle. He wasn’t wrong. The answer to any question had been Paris. It was supposed to stay that way, too.
“Can we just watch the game?” I motioned to the court.
He shook his head slowly. “Whatever you want, Edie.”
* * *
I sat staring at the computer screen. Fifty-nine. The grade on my last French test. It didn’t make sense. I studied for this test. I really studied. I sank my head into my hands as the room door opened behind me.
“What’s up?” Serena asked, setting her bag down hard.
I shook my head. What was there to say?
“What happened?” she asked, crossing the room to stand over my shoulder. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Your overall grade is still a sixty-five, so that’s good.” Her fingertip pressed the screen. “You can recoup.”
I laughed as I lifted my face from my hands. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I’m not going to make it through this course,” I said, pushing out of the chair and moving to my bed.
“You will. You’re passing,” she said, turning to unpack her bag.
I fell back onto the bed, throwing an arm over my face.
“Hey, so I have something to show you,” Serena said as she shuffled through some papers.
“Okay,” I said, not taking my arm off my eyes.
She moved to the side of my bed. “Did you want to see it, or…?”
I groaned as I pulled my arm from my face, dropping it dramatically onto the bed next to me.
Serena waved for me to sit up.
“Do I have to?”
She listed her head, her hand on her hip as she looked down at me.
“Fine,” I whined as I pushed myself up. I opened my arms as if to present myself.
“So, I was going through my pictures.” She held her tablet toward me. “Selecting pictures and editing and whatever, and I found these.…” She handed me the tablet. The first picture was of me sitting at my desk, my dress pooled in my lap. My face downcast, smiling. A pin between my lips.
I flipped to the next. And then another. “What are these?” I asked as I got to a picture that instantly knotted my stomach.
It was me and Hudson. Nose to nose at the theater. Serena must have snapped it right before she scolded us. His fingers twisted in the end of my hair, my mouth open in a smile.
I looked up at Serena, her eyebrows raised in response. There was a picture of us walking away from Serena. Hudson with his hands shoved into his pockets, my arm looped through his. My head on his shoulder.
“What is this?” I asked, holding the tablet toward her.
She laughed as she ran a hand through her hair. “That’s you falling in love with Wes Hudson.”
“Jesus…” I dropped the tablet. “There have to be more than twenty pictures on there.”
“Twenty-seven, actually,” Serena said, biting the inside of her cheek. “It’s a really beautiful progression, Edie, and I—”
I looked up at her. “You want to use those for your project now instead of the dress pictures?”
She paused, still chewing on the inside of her cheek. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“I promise I will still take pictures for your portfolio,” Serena said, flipping through her tablet and turning it toward me to show me a photo of me pulling out a hem. “I still have so many good pictures of you with The Dress.”
I rubbed my hands down my face. “Do you think the pictures stand a chance to get the gallery spot?” I asked.
Serena shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I do.”
“Shit,” I breathed.
“It’s totally up to you, Edie,” she said, crossing her arms. “I promised you final say, and I meant it.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “Just go with your gut.” I fell back onto my bed.
“You’re sure?”
I nodded, throwing my arms over my eyes again.
“Do you want to see the rest of the pictures? You only saw, like, three pictures; there are a lot—”
“Nope,” I interrupted. I did not want to see the rest of the pictures. “I trust you,” I said. It was myself that I didn’t trust. How could I have allowed Hudson to derail me like this?