The sound of running feet pulled my attention up. “Looking good, Josh!” I shouted, and I got a quick wave in return. He wasn’t as tired as the picture indicated. And it wasn’t a race. The track team was simply making sure someone was on the field at all times, sort of a daylong marathon. At the outside of the track was a much slower-moving group of nonathletes. It was as much a social event as anything else, and I could hear the ladies talking about their kids as they power walked, earning dollars per lap to help buy a new activity bus.
I raised my camera and got a shot when one of the women laughed, catching her in a moment of happiness. Their participant badges were clearly visible, and I toyed with the idea of showing it to Ms.
Cartwright to see if she wanted to use it in next year’s promotion.
Turning, I spotted Covington High’s girls’ track team stretching under the shade of the birch trees.
Colorful gym bags littered the grass, and I took a few shots, making sure Amy was not looking her best.
Zooming in, I focused on the bandage over her purple nose, bruised and swollen, thanks to Grace, and with a grin, I took a really bad one with her mouth hanging open.
“Never tick off the photographer,” I whispered, feeling good about catching her in more than one awkward, unflattering pose.
I’d been taking pictures now for about three hours and I was starting to get tired, even as my long-fallow photography muscles enjoyed the workout. The camera card I’d bought yesterday had been a godsend.
I’d already filled it up once, taking time to dump everything into the printer before clearing it out and going back in search of more timely moments.
“Like that one,” I whispered when I saw a man holding his child close and high to his face. He was pointing to one of the walkers on the field, and the baby, a girl by the looks of the bow and frills, was following his gaze. The man’s face glowed as he talked to his daughter. Behind them was a stroller with a huge diaper bag shoved under it and a handful of toys tied to the front bar.
I took a picture of the stroller just because I thought it was cool that something so small needed so much stuff, then focused on the man and his child, waiting until the little girl recognized to whom he was pointing and made a delighted, wiggling gurgle. I snapped it, and the man turned as the camera whined.
I smiled, checking to make sure the ID tag Ms. Cartwright had given me was showing. “I’m taking photos to support the school,” I said for the umpteenth time today. “Would you like me to print this for you? I can have it ready in about an hour.”
His suspicion evaporated, turning into delight when I extended the back of the camera for him to see. “I didn’t even know you were there,” he said, jiggling the girl. “That is beautiful. How much?” He shifted his child to reach into his back pocket, and I waved my hand no.
“We’re asking for a dollar, but you pay when you see them,” I explained. “I’ve got them up at the green tent.” The thump of fast feet came and went behind me, and the little girl squirmed, looking over my shoulder to follow the runners with her eyes.
“I’ll be there,” the man said as he scrambled to hold her. He gazed at the happy infant, saying in a falsetto, “Mommy willlove to have a picture of us.” His love for his daughter was still in his eyes when he turned back to me. “Thank you. I always forget to bring my camera to these things. Diapers, bottles, toys, and her snuggy, but never a camera.”
Nodding, I gave him a reminder ticket before I waved at the cooing girl and walked away. It felt good to be out doing something instead of moping about in my room like it was a prison, missing my old friends.
Yesterday at the Low D with Josh had been nice, even with Amy butting in and the looming trouble with Kairos. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be with someone and not afraid to be who I really was. Today, the sun was warm, the air was cool, and I was busy spending my dad’s money on ink and paper. It didn’t get much better than that.
From the nearby trees, I heard Amy shout an attention-getting, “Hi-i-i-i, Josh!” and I glanced up to see him run by again. Parker was out there with him now, and it looked like they were talking. I went to take a picture of them, but a card full message popped up.
“Cripes,” I said with a sigh, then headed to the tent where I’d set up my table. Ms. Cartwright was really nice, not blinking an eye at my purple hair tips and skull earrings when she had given me a table where I could tape up some of the miscellaneous pictures that no one would likely claim.
“Madison! Is my picture done yet?” a tired, matronly voice called out, and my gaze went to a fatigued woman with three dusty boys. She looked ready to call it a day. I had a beautiful photo waiting of her and her boys on the merry-go-round before they’d worn her out and gotten cotton candy on their clothes. The sun glinting on the gold paint had matched their hair, and the straight up-and-down lines contrasted beautifully with the curling manes and bright paint on the horses. Side by side, the family resemblance that had changed little from age to age was striking. I’d printed out a second one for me just because I liked it.