As I Am

by AnnaLisa Grant

  I stop when I reach a point where I can really see the streams of light. A haze of dust and microscopic insects look like they’re floating in an alien spaceship beam. I pull the Canon Dad helped me buy used two years ago from my bag. It’s a great camera and I love it, but every time I catch a great shot I dream of how stellar the pictures from the Canon Mark 3 will be.

  I put the camera to my face and shut one eye as I line up the shot. I shift my stance just slightly and I catch an angle where the light is coming through even stronger. I’m about to press my finger down and take the shot when my view goes completely black. When I pull the camera from my face to see what the obstruction is, Miller Conrad is standing in front of me.

  Chapter 3

  “There’s a better cluster of trees down toward the embankment. You’ll get a better contrast between light and dark … a better color contrast, too,” Miller says with a confident smile.

  “And how would you know that?” I ask him, annoyed that he just ruined my shot … and my mood.

  “I’m an artist, too,” he tells me, adjusting the book he’s been scribbling in and what looks like a sketch pad under his arm.

  He called me an artist. I’ve argued with people about photographers being artists. They say it’s not really art because I’m not creating something. I’m taking what’s there and just capturing it. They have no idea the time, energy, and skill it takes to capture or even create the perfect shot. My mood has instantaneously changed with this one, tiny word – too – but not like it has in the past when I was compared to Addison. “You’re pretty in your own way, too, Kinley.”

  “You know, you could have told me about the embankment without standing in the way of my shot.” I smile back at him but make sure I keep a tone of annoyance. I don’t want him thinking he can literally walk into my frame any time.

  “Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

  I begin walking toward the embankment, wanting to catch this great shot he’s assured me is waiting for me. The sun is getting lower in the sky and I’ll need to catch it and get back to The Lodge before I’m stuck in the dark. There are lights on the corners of each of the cabins, but they’re low and not really designed to help you walk from one side of the camp to the other. They’re mostly there to make sure the kids can get from their cabin to the showers if they bathe at night. There are patches of darkness where, in the middle of the night, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.

  “Matthew said he thought you were an artist,” I tell him, making small talk as I realize he’s walking with me.

  “It’s kind of hard to hide the sketch pads. I take them with me everywhere I go. Sometimes I feel like they’re physically a part of me,” he says.

  “That’s exactly how I feel about my camera, and what my sister accuses me of all the time. On the way here she told me my camera was my third eye. I took it as a compliment.” I give a little chuckle and Miller smiles with me. “But, she doesn’t mind it so much when I use her for test shots. The camera loves her,” I say, working my way to letting Miller know he’s got the green light from Addison.

  “How long have you had this third eye of yours?” he asks, ignoring what I thought was a perfect seguing for him to acknowledge Addison’s beauty and his interest in her.

  “Oh, um,” I stutter, taken off-guard. “About four years now. A family friend gave me her old camera when she upgraded to a professional one. A year and a half later my dad helped me buy this one used. I’m saving my money to upgrade again soon. I’m planning on traveling with my mom. She’s a photographer for National Geographic.”

  “That’s incredible,” he says with a smile. “I bet you’re really good.”

  “It’s all subjective, but people seem to like my work.” I blush. I’ve never really talked about my dream with anyone but Addison, and she’s never really that interested. She usually starts talking about the fashion in different parts of the world and how it’s influenced modern styles today. And when I talk with other journalism students about it, they don’t completely connect the dots between photojournalism and investigative writing journalism. “What about you? How long have you been drawing?”

  “Since I was about four, so, seventeen years? I was that kid in fourth grade who the teachers asked to design a mural for the administrative offices. Then I got into poetry around seventh grade, so I became that weird, quiet, artistic guy no one knew what to do with. All my friends were playing video games and I was painting and writing poetry about how heartbreaking the homeless situation in my town was.”

  “That explains the tattoos,” I say sarcastically. “What do they say? ‘My body is my journal and my tattoos are my story’?”

  “Ouch! I hadn’t pegged you for the judgey type,” Miller says with a laugh.

  “I’m not judging! I’m just making an observation and putting two and two together,” I protest.

  “Well,” he says, stopping. “There’s a story behind all of them. Some of those stories begin with ‘my buddies and I were drinking and …’ But, if you’re lucky, maybe one day I’ll tell you the other, more meaningful stories. Of course, you can always just break down and ask me.” He smiles at me and I smile back, thinking that I’d be very interested in hearing his stories. “We’re here.” Miller points to the embankment and I immediately see the contrast he was talking about earlier.

  “Oh, wow … this is great! I drop my bag and step closer to the trees so that the embankment is on my left and the cluster of trees is in front of me. I bend down slightly as I work to find the perfect angle. That perfect angle is found when I’m in the most awkward of positions: half crouched down with a leg extended. I’m about to lose my balance when Miller steadies me.

  “Here, lean against me and I’ll steady you,” he says. He’s on his knees, putting his chest against my back so I can balance. He’s got one hand on my shoulder and the other on my hip. I suck in my tummy and feel myself lengthen the side of my body where his hand is low so that he doesn’t feel those rolls that form when I fold my body in any way. My imperfections are visible enough; I don’t want him to feel just how imperfect I am. Especially since I’m about to draw attention to my ridiculously perfect sister.

  “Um … thanks.” I barely get the words out before I take a few shots and then stand up. “You were right about the contrast. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replies softly.

  “So … you know about the bonfire tonight, right?” I ask as I pick up my bag and put my camera away. I’m losing light and there won’t be any point in me keeping it out now.

  “Yeah, Matthew said something about it.”

  “Matthew will be there. So will I … and my sister, Addison,” I tell him.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to go, but if you’re going to be there …” He smiles as we walk back toward The Lodge.

  What? “You’ll definitely want to officially meet Addy,” I tell him. Maybe he didn’t hear me the first time when I said she’d be there. “She’s great and really wants to meet you, too.”

  “I’m not really into superficial beauty queens.”

  “Now who’s being judgey?” I say.

  “I’m sure your sister is very nice, but she’s not my type,” he answers.

  “What do you mean she’s not your type? Addison is every guy’s type,” I say with shock.

  “I’d be happy to meet her, but I’m not interested in her,” he says very matter-of-fact.

  I stop in my tracks, amazed at this conversation I’ve never had before. I narrow my eyes at Miller as I try to figure him out. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever met who hasn’t been even remotely interested in my sister. In fact, you might be the only guy on the planet who hasn’t been even remotely interested in my sister. I need a minute here. I’m confident this is never going to happen again.”

  “Like I said, I’m sure Addison is very nice, but … I already met the more interesting sister.” Miller locks his eyes on mine and I feel a churning in my stomach
, a nervous excitement I don’t know that I felt even when Cal approached me earlier today.

  Cal.

  Holy crap! I haven’t thought about Cal at all in the last hour that I’ve been with Miller.

  “Well … I need to hurry and get back,” I stumble, ignoring his comment. “Addy thought I was close behind her after dinner and she’s probably worried about me.” Truth be told, Addy would only be worried because, depending on the news I bring her about Miller’s interest, she may have to change into a different outfit.

  “Then I guess I’ll see you later at the bonfire.” Miller gives me a soft smile and walks back toward the dining hall while I haul ass back to The Lodge.

  I can only image how Addy is going to react when I tell her that Miller isn’t interested. I’ve told her that guys were interested, but too nervous to make the first move. I’ve even told her when the guy has been gay and she’s still tried to make a move. I swear Addy is the only girl I know who thinks she can change them! But I have never, ever told her that a guy was just flat-out not interested. Forget telling her that I could swear Miller was flirting with me! To Addy, that would be a sign of the end of days.

  I make it back to The Lodge and find Amy and Matthew sitting on the front porch laughing. Last summer these two became great friends and were practically inseparable. It’s fun to watch them together.

  “What are you two laughing about?” I ask.

  “It’s Matthew’s birthday next week and we were just discussing how to make his twenty-first extra special. Since we’re drinking every night at the bonfire anyway, we were tossing out ideas of who to prank and what to do. We think Dave is first and we’re thinking classic, like, floating bed on Lake Hollis. What do you think?” Amy explains. Apparently there is more to this story because neither of them can stop laughing.

  “I think you can never go wrong with a classic prank, but … have either of you considered who is going to carry him? The guy is linebacker huge!” I say with a laugh.

  “Oh, there’s Cal. Maybe we can get him and his Notre Dame guys to do it!” Matthew says.

  I turn and see Cal coming out of Gateway with one of the new girls. I haven’t met any of them yet so I don’t know who she is. I catch his eye and he smiles, leaving her behind like he doesn’t even know she’s there.

  “Hey, you,” he says. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “I was down by the embankment taking some test shots. Mr. Fellows asked me to be the official Lake Hollis photographer this summer,” I tell him excitedly. I don’t tell him about being there with Miller because I don’t want him to get the wrong impression. I can’t screw this up.

  “Oh, that’s cool. You’ll have to take some pictures of me working the rock wall. Holding the rope for the kids really flexes this muscle,” he says with a smile as he actually flexes his arms. “And when those fat kids are up there! Whoa! That’s a workout!” Cal laughs and walks into The Lodge, leaving me there on the porch with Amy and Matthew.

  “Forget it. We’ll think of something else. I don’t want his help. That guy is such a douche!” Matthew says. Amy raises her eyebrows and nods in agreement.

  “He’s not! He’s just … confident,” I respond defensively and they both look at me with disbelief. “I gotta go. I’ll see you soon for the bonfire.”

  I head upstairs and scurry past Addy’s room so I can put my things down and upload my test shots onto my laptop. The screen has just flickered on when Addy storms into my room. She’s changed her clothes and fixed her hair … again.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she demands as she stands above me, arms crossed. “Did you talk to Miller?”

  “Geez! Simmer down, Addy!” I say, matching her tone. I hate it when she talks to me like this. “I was on my way to talk to Miller when Mr. Fellows stopped me. He asked me to be the official photographer for Lake Hollis. Isn’t that great?” I tell her, excited to share this awesome news with her.

  “That’s great, Kinley. Now what about Miller?” Typical Addy. I try to believe she’s going to be happy for me, but whatever Addy wants always trumps what I want.

  “Right. Well, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but … he said that you’re not really his type.” I half cringe as I wait for her response, completely unsure of what she’s going to do.

  “What does he mean I’m not his type? I’m every guy’s type,” she says, echoing my earlier sentiment. “You must have said something to confuse him.”

  “What? No! What could I possibly say that would confuse him? He’s seen you! It’s not like I told him your boobs were fake, and even if they were, like any guy would care!”

  She takes a deep breath and I see the wheels in her head turning, formulating a plan. “Fine. So maybe he’s not the kind of guy who goes for super-hot and slutty. Or … maybe he likes a lady in public and slutty behind closed doors,” she theorizes.

  “Classy.”

  “Oh, please, Kinley. If you think that guys aren’t like that then you clearly have no experience.” The last syllable has barely left Addy’s mouth when she stops and looks at me apologetically. “Oh, Kin … I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I tell her quietly. “It’s true.” It’s more than true and Addy and I have beaten this dead horse in conversation more times than I can remember. I’m twenty years old and I’ve hardly even kissed a guy. I mean, I’ve kissed guys, but I’ve never really been kissed. That kiss that makes you weak in the knees because you know the lips that are pressed against yours belong to someone who knows you better than anyone on the planet; the one person you feel an eternal connection with, not a guy who keeps trying to shove his tongue down your throat and grab your boobs at the same time.

  “Look, guys look at the package we come in. If Miller doesn’t like the package he’s seeing, then I have to change strategies so that he will,” she says, moving along. “Once he’s enticed by that, then he’ll get to know me and like me.” Addison’s right. If a guy doesn’t like the wrapping, it’s hard to get them to open the gift. That’s what is so great about Cal’s interest in me. He spent time over this last year getting to know the contents, getting to know me on the inside, that he can’t help but like my outside, too. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.

  “Whatever you think you need to do, Addy.” I’d push the fact that Miller made it clear Addy was not his type, but I might slip and tell her that he said I was the more interesting of the two of us, and I don’t think that would go over well with her.

  “Oh! I have a great idea! What if you and Cal, me, and Miller took a walk to the lake? You and Cal can go do your thing – wink, wink – and then Miller will spend some time getting to know how totally fabulous I am!” she squeals.

  This is a terrible plan. There’s no way Miller is going to take a walk with us, but, as usual, I appease my dear sister. “Yeah, that’s great. We should totally do that,” I say with zero enthusiasm. “We should go. Just let me grab my camera and we can head down.”

  “Are you really lugging that thing down there?” Addy asks with a roll of her eyes.

  “Yes! In case you forgot what I just told you, Mr. Fellows asked me to be the official photographer. I’m taking this very seriously, Addy. I wish you would stop acting like this is some little hobby!” I chastise her with a loud tone and she takes a step back.

  “Alright, alright! Geez! I’ll back off. Go ahead and change and we’ll go right down.”

  “I’m just going to throw a hoodie on,” I tell her.

  “Okay, listen. There are a lot of things you know about that I don’t. And there are a lot of things that I know about that you don’t. I’m not trying to be mean, but I know about guys and what you’re wearing isn’t exactly going to confirm to Cal that he’s making the right move with you. Yes, he already likes you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to think about how you present yourself. You let me help you pack so let me help you put something together that’ll make Cal know
he’s got the whole package right here.”

  I have to admit that Addy does know more about what guys want. I honestly wouldn’t wear a third of the clothes I have if Addy hadn’t made me get them. She’s going to make a career out of this fashion thing so I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing when she dresses me. It’s hard for me to find clothes that are really cute and complement my body. It’s not like I have to shop at specialty stores or anything, it’s that just because it comes in a size twelve or fourteen doesn’t mean it looks good on me. And, honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to fashion. For that I do have to thank her.

  The problem is, because I’m behind the camera, and often on the ground in order to get the best shots, I don’t ever think about wearing anything other than jeans and T-shirt and hoodie. It’s only when I’m going somewhere with Addy that I ever stop to think about what I should wear.

  “Fine. If you think I should change, what do you think I should wear?”

  Addy smiles and does a giddy jump before opening the drawers to the dresser. “Yay! You wouldn’t let me do this last summer, but since you’ve got Cal now I guess you’ve seen the light!” she giggles. Addy gets really happy when I let her do this. I’m her life-size, definitely-not-to-scale, Barbie doll and she loves dressing me up.

  I don’t have Cal. I don’t really know what’s going on except that he wants to spend more time with me. But, to Addy, a guy asking to spend time with you puts you in control and makes him yours.

  Fifteen minutes later we’re hitting the bottom of the porch steps and I’m wearing the last thing I would have put together to wear to a bonfire. I’ve got on khaki shorts, a pink sleeveless swing top, a green cardigan, and gold sandals. I have to admit that I do look pretty cute but it seems like a ridiculous outfit for the setting. I really hope I don’t have to get made up for every bonfire. That will get really old, really fast.

  The bonfire is set up through a cluster of trees in a clearing on the other side of The Lodge. The Fellows wanted to make sure we could be almost as loud as we wanted to and not disturb the campers. I love how traditional the setup is. It’s so reminiscent of those old pictures of 1950’s camps. The roaring fire is surrounded by huge logs where we can huddle together with the cool of the night to our back and the warmth of the fire in front of us.