“Tomorrow.”
Tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying around melts off my shoulders.
“Why? You want to be here when she comes? She is quite a looker. High maintenance, though.”
He has no idea.
“Nah. I mean, yeah, she’s cute,” I say, “but not my type.”
“Pull up a chair. Your hovering is making me nervous.”
I do.
“So what is your type, then?” he asks.
“Uh, I sort of had this girlfriend for a while until recently. She’s a cheerleader. I thought she was my type. But now, definitely not.”
Henry laughs. “Yeah. I never went through that cheerleader phase. Couldn’t ever see what all the fuss was about. Artsy girls. That’s where it’s at,” he says.
“Yeah? I’ll have to remember that.”
“What happened to your face?”
Shit. I thought he hadn’t noticed.
“Stupid fight,” I say, trying to make light of it.
“You lost, I take it.”
“You should see the other guy.” I wonder how bad Dad’s nose is. He’s been in bar fights, so his boss’ll probably just write it off on account of alcohol.
Henry turns to me. He lowers his head, then waits until I turn to face him full on. “You wearing makeup?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
He lets out the heartiest, loudest laugh imaginable, pats me on the shoulder, and between fits of laughter, tells me to go wash my damn face.
So I do.
I cringe as I rub the shit off. It doesn’t just wipe off, evil stuff. How the hell do girls do this every day? How does Jordyn do it? Her makeup is way more severe than this stuff. I wonder why she started doing that. She doesn’t seem like a goth. I’ve never even seen her talking to any of the other goth kids.
After I finally seem to have removed everything from my face, I head back out.
Henry’s in the studio fiddling with one of his cameras now.
“Better?” I ask.
He nods. “I picked the pictures of yours I like. They’re up on Jordyn’s computer. She tells me you have to have one in by Friday or they’ll use that shitty generic one. So if you don’t pick, I’ll pick for you and have Jordyn send it in. Can’t have one of my employees using a picture I didn’t take, now can I? How would that look for business?”
“We could take another now. I think I’d like to be remembered this way forever.”
He chuckles. “After you pick one, bring the flash drive back here. Then I can show you how to work the printers.”
I choose the picture where I’m in my T-shirt, smirking at the camera. It’s one of Henry’s top choices and I remember Jordyn also liked it. Before I can talk myself out of it, I go to the yearbook website and submit it. Then I head back to Henry and present him with the flash drive.
“Follow me.”
Around the corner from the bathroom there’s a door I hadn’t even noticed. The room beyond it is filled with various intimidating printers. Henry flips the switch on the one closest to the door, then hands me the flash drive and nods toward the laptop on the table.
I pull up the photo marked “T. Blackwell: 134.” Henry tries to print a poster-sized version of me, but I manage to talk him out of it, using the wasted paper argument. He settles on a one-sheet 8? x 11. Not that I have any use for it. What the hell do I need a picture of me for?
The printers are easy enough to figure out. The only tricky part is remembering the settings and which printer is which. Henry says I’ll know it inside and out by the end of October. October . . . Maybe now’s a good time to ask for more shifts.
My heart speeds up at the thought, but I take a deep breath. “I don’t suppose you might need me to work more hours or anything?”
Henry stops what he’s doing and turns to face me. “You got money trouble?”
My face flashes hot. And then I find myself explaining about how my dad thinks he shouldn’t have to pay for my gas and car insurance and running shoes. I consider explaining about the food and toiletries, but I stop myself.
“Hmm.”
“It’s okay. I just thought I’d ask.”
“I might be able to get you in another day. Especially now that you can help with the printing.”
“If it’s a hassle, don’t worry about it.”
“No hassle. Jordyn?” he calls.
My stomach tightens. She’s not here, is she?
“Yeah?” She pokes her head in the door.
Shit. When did she get here? I turn to the computer so my back is to her.
“You think we can figure a way to get Tyler some more shifts?”
“Yes!” She seems a little too excited about this. “I’m dying under the load of my classes. You can take three days during the week and I’ll cut back to two.”
“Well, there you go,” Henry says.
“You sure?” I ask, half turning to her.
“I was going to ask you about it yesterday, but then I was so rudely hung up on.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I’m kidding. Stop taking everything so seriously,” she says.
“Tyler’s learning how to print. Practically an expert already,” Henry announces.