Freeing Liberty

by J. M. Paul

  “He can lead me straight into his bed,” the blonde girl sitting in front of me muttered to the blue-haired girl next to her.

  “Hell to the yeah. I only took this class because he was the GTA,” Blue Hair said.

  “All right, all right. Simmer down,” Professor Ericson said to the class. “Bax.” He motioned for Sexy GTA to continue.

  Bax cleared his throat again. “Three students will be selected to take a road trip across the United States with me for three months. I’ll lend my knowledge to help the chosen students with subjects, angles, lighting, or whatever’s needed for them to strengthen their portfolios. The grant covers most, if not all, expenses, including a vehicle, gas, food, supplies, and lodging.” He ticked off the list on his fingers. “As a disclaimer, I have to tell you, lodging will include a mixture of hotels and campgrounds, so you’ll have to tolerate some ‘roughing it.’” He air-quoted the last two words and grinned.

  “Rough is the only way I’d want it with Bax.” The blonde gave her friend a wicked smile.

  Blue Hair nodded enthusiastically.

  I rolled my eyes.

  The girls at this school were predictable. The rumors I tried hard to ignore but was forced to listen to from the catty women sitting around me in class must be true. Bax was dinner, and every girl on campus wanted to feast on his buffet. Every girl, except for me. Bax was delicious man candy, but I had no use for men or distractions, and the two went hand in hand.

  “So, to be considered, I’m going to have a friendly competition.” He stopped speaking to make sure he had everyone’s complete awareness.

  Students leaned forward in their seats and murmured their excitement. I sat straight in my chair. Bax undoubtedly had the entire classroom’s interest.

  Whatever the competition, I had to win. There wasn’t another choice. Anything that would prevent me from returning to the hell that was supposed to be my home for summer break was a beacon on my radar. My life was heavy and got heavier by the day. If I were forced to enter the gates of hell again, I would burn alive.

  “What’s the competition?” A guy from the front row prodded Bax to continue.

  “I want interested students to anonymously submit one photo. It has to be something you haven’t previously used in this class. The photographic composition doesn’t matter, and it can be in color or black and white. The quality and uniqueness of the photo will win you a spot. The only boundary is, no digital touch-ups. The images must be raw, and it must be developed by you. With everything going digital these days, developing is sadly becoming a lost art.” Bax shook his head.

  “How will the winners be picked?” I blurted eagerly before I could think about my action.

  With Bax’s curiosity pinned on me, his hazel eyes studied me, as if it were the first time he had seen me. Several shocked students also turned in my direction. I never spoke in class unless forced. I tried to shrink back into my chair to become one with the hard plastic.

  Bax gave me a reassuring smile. “We’ll get to that.” He focused back on the class. “Like I said, this is last minute, so we’ll have to do things quickly. Interested students must drop off their pictures to Professor Ericson’s office, sheathed in a manila envelope with the last four digits of your student number written on it, on or before nine a.m. on Monday morning. That only gives you the weekend to prepare.”

  Students shifted in their seats and grumbled their disapproval of the limited time frame.

  “Simmer down,” Professor Ericson repeated. He rose from the chair behind his ancient wood desk and walked toward Bax. When he stood next to his GTA, Ericson clapped Bax on the back and urged him to continue.

  Bax turned to briefly meet my gaze. “Professor Ericson and I will pick the top three pictures, but we also want your input.” His eyes flitted around the students. “When everyone arrives on Tuesday, the pictures will be displayed in front of the classroom. You can vote for three. Professor Ericson and I will have the final say, of course, but we’ll strongly consider the class favorites.”

  “Questions?” Professor Ericson addressed the class.

  Several hands rose.

  As Professor Ericson and Bax answered question after question, my mind wandered to possible subjects to photograph that would award me a position.

  As my eyes darted around the classroom, my leg bounced, and I chewed my thumbnail. The fresh coat of black polish I’d put on last night was already chipped.

  A low hum of animated voices swirled around the space as students entered the class and immediately found their seats. At exactly nine o’clock, the room was quiet as everyone sat forward and studied the displayed photographs.

  It was judgment day.

  My approach to choosing a subject had been deliberate. I’d placed myself in the normal sunshiny shoes of my peers and scratched every idea the placement directed me. The average student was typically happy and would capture predictable subjects. I wasn’t regular, and I definitely wasn’t cheery.

  As I eyed the pictures, I realized I was right about my peers.

  There were several photographs of bugs, flowers, and sunsets—all unsurprising. There was a photo of a lighthouse and a few other prints of various architectural compositions. All the pictures were beautiful, but most fit into a certain slotted category.

  Only one photograph stood out among the rest.

  Professor Ericson and Bax greeted the class, thanked the students who had participated—which was everyone—and asked if there were questions. After Bax answered a few lingering uncertainties surrounding the road trip, Professor Ericson explained how we would judge the photographs.

  Ericson called us up, row by row, to study the subjects. When we finished, we wrote our top three choices on the provided sheet of paper. After the forms were handed in, Ericson gave a thirty-minute break—since it was a three-hour class—so he and Bax could tally the results and discuss the winners.

  The students sat in the hallway talking, or playing on their cellphones or computers, and some went outside to smoke. I nervously paced the corridor. It was the longest thirty minutes of my life, and by the end of it, the polish on my nails was completely picked off.

  “First, I want to say, congratulations to all of you,” Professor Ericson started when we reconvened. “You guys stepped up your game for this opportunity, and I feel like a proud pop, standing up here.”

  A quiet rumble of laughter sounded through the class.

  “I’ve never been so melancholy to see a semester end. Teaching and watching this group of students grow as photographers has been a real pleasure. I hope to see many of you in advanced classes next year.” Ericson scratched his salt-and-pepper beard and turned toward Bax. “Bax will announce the winners since he’s leading the trip. So, without further ado…” He swished his hand in Bax’s direction and took a step back.

  Bax nodded to Ericson and then addressed the class, “Thanks for participating, everyone. These photos are”—he turned his head to observe them—“wow. You all definitely brought your A game.” He glanced around the room with a broad smile. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase because I know you guys must be anxious.”

  Bax tapped the paper in his hand that held our fate. Students shuffled in their chairs and leaned forward.

  For me, it was either win a slot on the trip or…

  There was no or for me. If I didn’t land a spot, I knew I wouldn’t survive another summer of or at home.

  “I’ll announce the third, second, and then the first position. Ready?” Bax flashed a mischievous smile.

  Hoots and hollers echoed around me. The troops were getting restless.

  Bax laughed, shook his head, and looked at the sheet. “Third place goes to the photograph uniquely titled Bee.”

  He walked to the color photograph and picked it up to show the class. It was a close-up of a honeybee on a white-and-yellow daisy. The picture was beautiful and required talent to capture, but it didn’t have meaning.

  A girl two rows in front
of me squealed and enthusiastically clapped her hands. As she ran down the steps to take her picture from Bax, her head of perfect blonde ringlets bounced down her back. She beamed up at the group, and I noticed it wasn’t just her hair that was perfect. Everything about her was—her skin, makeup, nails, and clothes. She reminded me of someone I used to know five years ago. Someone whose life had been perfect with the perfect family and boyfriend. A girl who’d lost everything in the blink of an eye and lived with the burden of their deaths on her conscience every single day.

  “Congrats, Carly,” Bax said, interrupting my dark meditations. “Stay after class, so we can discuss the trip in further detail, okay?”

  Carly enthusiastically nodded her head.

  “Okay then”—Bax raised his eyebrows—“second place goes to…” He walked over to the display of photographs again.

  I took a deep breath and begged anyone who could hear me to please let me win. Please, please, please…

  Bax picked up a sepia-toned close-up of a railroad track. The picture captured a creative angle, displaying the photographer’s talent.

  My shoulders sagged, and my heart started to thud heavily. There was only one chance left. If those were the chosen photographs thus far, my outside-the-box subject probably wouldn’t win.

  My stomach sank.

  “The photograph titled Broad Gauge.”

  A guy in the front row stood, turned and saluted the class, and then made his way down to Bax. He was of Hispanic descent and flashed a wide smile on his baby face.

  “Congrats, Milo. Great picture.”

  “Thanks, chico.” Milo grabbed the picture Bax offered.

  “And, last but not least, the picture with the most votes by a landslide—and very deserving, I might add—goes to…” Bax turned and strolled in front of the pictures lining the classroom. He put his fist under his jaw and tapped his chin with his index finger. “Hmm…” he hummed, drawing out the suspense.

  I felt like I was going to explode or melt into a puddle. My life hung in the balance as Bax dramatically lengthened the moment. I couldn’t handle it. My legs bounced, my palms started to sweat, and my eye twitched. I chewed my thumbnail until I thought I tasted blood.

  I had to win. I needed to win, or all hope would be lost.

  Just as my eyes started to water—a sign of weakness I’d told myself I would never display again—Bax walked in the direction of my picture. My pulse sped, and my breathing increased. I sat straight and tapped my foot so rapidly that my classmates probably thought I was on something illegal—or many illegal somethings with super strength.

  Bax picked up my picture, briefly studied it, and then turned to show the class. “First place goes to the photo Suppression.” He beamed.

  I inhaled a surprised gasp and then sputtered. It felt as if the air had been sucked from my lungs, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

  I won. I won!

  The feeling made me dizzy. The room warped, faded, and then came back into view.

  Is this real?

  I blinked rapidly and watched Bax’s mouth move but without sound. I narrowed my eyes to focus. He seemed like a fish out of water as his lips flapped without noise. Several students inspected the room in curiosity.

  What is going on?

  “Who wants to claim this picture?” Professor Ericson’s booming voice finally broke through my haze. “I’d claim it. It’s the best I’ve seen in my history of teaching.”

  I shot out of my seat, and a loud scraping noise reverberated around the room. My books and pen crashed to the floor with a loud thwack. Each and every eye in the room turned in my direction. Heat immediately spread across my chest, up my neck, and into my cheeks.

  Why am I such a moron?

  “Liberty?” Ericson questioned.

  I stumbled my way down the steps and stood off to the side of Bax.

  “The picture’s—” I cleared my throat. It wanted to seal off as I realized everyone was staring at me.

  Of course they’re staring at you. You’re acting like a moron!

  I took a deep breath. “The picture’s mine. I-I took it.”

  “Wow. Great shot, Liberty. This is, by far, the best work I’ve seen from a student. I knew you had a bright future, but this”—he looked at the picture Bax was holding in his hands—“is something else.”

  “Thank you.” I dipped my head toward the floor.

  Bax turned toward me. “Congratulations, Liberty. This is an amazing photo.”

  I peeked at him through the dark wall of my hair and gave him a small nod in thanks.

  “Why’s the photo entitled Suppression?” Bax asked.

  Through the strands of my hair, I could see he was holding the picture up for the class to observe.

  I raised my head and looked at my photograph. It was a black-and-white still of a freshman art student. She had been working on a charcoal drawing and was covered in black grime.

  When I had walked by the art room this weekend, she had been alone, and the natural light shining through the window had been perfect against her olive skin. Without thought, I had approached her and asked if I could take her picture. It was unlike me to be so forward, but when it came to my passion, I wasn’t myself. I would take on another persona with a more aggressive, hungry drive. I’d strived for the best possible chance at freeing myself from a summer filled with demons.

  At first, the shy art student had resisted to be photographed. When she had looked at me, I could read a deep sadness in her eyes. The profound ache that lived inside me had stirred to life, recognizing another lost soul. I should have walked away, left her to her troubles, but she had been mesmerizing. The creative beast in me had reared its ugly head and demanded I do everything in my power to take the beautiful girl’s photograph. I had coaxed her with reassuring words, and it’d worked.

  I’d had the girl sit on a stool and face the window. When she had gotten comfortable, I had let her do what came naturally as I took photo after photo.

  The picture Bax held in his hands was a close-up of the girl’s face. Her dark hair was down, outlining her soft features, and the backs of her hands were pressed against her mouth. Her palms and fingers were covered in charcoal, and she had a smear across the bridge of her nose that extended under her left eye. But the stunning aspect of the photo was her eyes. They were crystal-clear white, and her irises sparkled a brilliant gray under heavy dark lashes and brows. Behind those eyes, it looked as if the weight of the world was trapped, waiting to be set free.

  “Liberty?” Bax questioned, drawing my attention. When I blinked up at him, he asked again, “Can you tell us why you named the photo Suppression?”

  I briefly thought about my answer. “A photograph of this nature leaves the subject bare, exposed.” My eyes wandered from Bax to the black-and-white print. “Even when we lay ourselves out to vulnerability, we still hold secrets that could shatter our souls, if unmasked.”

  I studied the picture of the girl and saw so much of myself reflected in her eyes, so much that it shook me to the core. I spewed words without thought of the consequences, “The girl’s eyes communicate her sorrow and hurt, as she is pleading to divest the weight of her anguish, for any one person to read what’s written on her conscience, to see the truth hidden in the crevices of her secrets,” I breathed. “But her hands resting against her mouth remind her to stay quiet. Despite how desperately she needs to expel her demons, to reach for help, voicing them would make the monsters real. It would lend them enough power to destroy her.” I twisted the cuff of my black hoodie with my fingers and shrugged. “So, she suppresses her need for freedom out of self-preservation.”

  The room was silent. No one spoke, shifted, or cleared their throat.

  When I peeled my eyes from the girl in the picture to meet Bax’s gaze, he stood, studying me, with a serious expression. In that moment, it was as if he could see me for who I really was, for the me that deeply mirrored the girl in the photograph, and my explanation behind her ex
pression had revealed that.

  I blinked and looked around the classroom. Everyone stared at me, and my stomach filled with panic.

  “Well”—Professor Ericson loudly clapped his hands once, and the noise made me jerk—“great job, Liberty. Congratulations to all the winners. Bax, I assume you need to speak with them, concerning the details of the trip?”

  Bax pried his eyes from mine and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well then, have a great summer, everyone, and we’ll see you back on campus in the fall. Class is dismissed,” Ericson said.

  Excited chatter rose among the students as they shuffled to gather their belongings.

  “Don’t forget to take your pictures!” Ericson shouted over the students.

  As my peers weaved around one another in the classroom, Bax watched me. His knowing hazel eyes tried to read the truth hidden in my darkness.

  Scoring a spot on the trip would save me from burning to ashes at home, but traveling the country for three months with someone who could already read me was sure to be torture.

  Campus was deserted. Most of the students had left for summer, and I found myself at peace, not having to deal with people. For once, I could walk around the university grounds without ducking my head and trying to be invisible. I wanted to get lost in the lens of my camera and find my version of brief contentment. It had been far too long since I felt anything remotely close to serenity.

  Bax, Carly, Milo, and I would be leaving for the road trip tomorrow morning. It couldn’t come soon enough. I wasn’t excited about being trapped in a vehicle with three people I didn’t know—especially one who seemed to read me too well—but I couldn’t wait to leave town, to escape situations I didn’t want to deal with and people I didn’t want to find me.

  As I sat on a campus bench surrounded by trees, I enjoyed the slight warm breeze as it brushed across my face. For the first time in a long time, I felt hints of freedom. It was empowering and frightening. Just as quickly, a sense of weariness washed over me. In my experience, anything good was usually followed by something exceedingly bad.