“This was also the site of one of the only fights your mom and I had.”
“You and Mom had a fight?”
“We both liked Derek Jones.” I drew my hands to my heart. “He was fourteen and a freshman, so very old. He didn’t know either of us existed but we fought about who was going to marry him. I mean, we argued and didn’t talk for hours that night. Then I decided your mom could have Derek and I’d marry Jeffrey Scott.”
“You can’t know who you’re going to marry when you’re twelve.”
“You’re smarter than we were.”
“Hardly.”
I bowled an intentional gutter ball and turned back to Shay. “You’re amazing, you know that, right? Your mom would be really proud of you.”
“I doubt that.”
Shay sat on the molded turquoise plastic line of chairs. I stacked up my own insecurities between us and sat next to them.
A server stepped into our lane and set a tray on the table in the corner. “Small cheese pizza, cheesy fries, and two lemonades.”
In between bites of pizza Shay chattered about her collage, her art teacher, the kids in the class and their collages. She rambled off names of the crazy-talented kids and the regularly talented kids, who she admired, and who’d complimented her work. I was just so relieved not to hear her berate or belittle anyone. Maybe Beck had been exaggerating. Maybe “mean girl” had been just a short phase and not a character trait.
“Want to see the pictures I’ve taken since I’ve been here?” I lifted my camera out of my bag and handed it to Shay without telling her to be careful. “Push that button and you can scroll the other way through the last pictures I took. It’s my secret stash. Just things I’ve seen since I’ve come back to Chance.”
Shay smiled. “You’re entering the contest!”
“I am. It’s kind of scary, but I’m taking your advice and being brave.”
“This contest is scary? C’mon!”
“I thought it would make me sad. I thought it would remind me of—”
“My mom.”
“Yes. But I took pictures for over two hours at Jasper Pond yesterday. And it was amazing.” I didn’t mention Cameron’s encouragement. Or Simon’s lack of enthusiasm for photos for art’s sake. Those weren’t the most important parts. Not for Shay. “I was doing something your mom and I did together. I’d take pictures, she’d paint or sketch. I thought about her, but it didn’t make me sad.”
Shay nodded slowly, in time to my words and memories.
“When did you know you wanted to be a photographer?” Shay stared at the little screen, smiling, her mouth shaping into oohs and aahs as she scrolled.
“As soon as my dad gave me my first camera; I think I was ten. It was a little black disposable one and you had the pictures developed at Fotomat.” Disposable camera. Pictures developed. Fotomat. Did Shay even know what those were? “I took pictures of everything. Lots of pictures of my toys—I set them up in scenes with your mom and she would sketch and I would snap. Then we’d dress up, even when we were too old for that, and I took pictures of her. We laughed like crazy! There were no selfies back then, so if we wanted a picture of the two of us, someone else had to take it, and when Cousin Maggie gave me my first real camera, it had a timer. And I wasn’t much for letting go of control of my camera.”
“Not like now.”
“I don’t hand that over to many people, believe me.”
“I understand,” Shay said. “I don’t like when anyone touches my art supplies. Vi tried to organize everything once. She thought she was helping me but then I couldn’t find anything and when I went to reach for something, it wasn’t there.”
“Do not mess with the artist’s tools.” As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have.
Shay chuckled. “Exactly. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”
“She’ll learn, but you might have to help her. She’s going to be your stepmom.”
I slid onto the seat between us, knocking some of my fears out of the way. I took Shay’s hands and turned her toward me.
“We’re friends, right? Friends that are like family, right?”
Shay nodded.
“We need to be honest with each other, okay?”
She nodded again.
“I’ll start. Uncle Beck told me what happened. At school.” Shay’s eyes opened wide.
“They made such a big deal out of it. I was just joking around.”
“Hurting people’s feelings isn’t a joke.”
“No kidding. I got in a shitload of trouble. They suspended me.”
I pulled back. “Shitload? Really, Shay?”
“Sorry. I got in a lot of trouble. And I am sorry about all of it. I know it was wrong. But I was just joking around but then they all turned on me. It still pisses me off. Oh crap. Makes me mad. I mean, not oh crap. Sorry. I’m not supposed to curse. Damn.”
Shay apologized so many times I wondered if she thought it didn’t matter what she did as long as she said she was sorry. I didn’t have experience with the good-job-you-did-your-best-everyone-gets-a-trophy-for-trying culture of parenting but I’d witnessed it aplenty in Chance and at the Hester hotels.
“This have anything to do with your dad and Violet?” I knew it did. Did Shay realize that?
“That’s what they tell me. I’m ‘acting out’ because of all the ‘changes’ going on.”
Shay’s air quotes added teenage sarcasm to the therapy-speak.
“I really am sorry. And I get it. That’s why they don’t trust me. That’s why I like Rebecca and Chloe. They don’t know what happened so I don’t have to worry that they’ll change their minds.”
“About what?”
“About being friends with me.”
I pulled her into a hug. “Oh, Shay-Shay. They’ll want to be friends with you, and so will lots of other people, for your whole life. You just got a little bit lost. Happens to the best of us. Just be your best self.” Now I sounded like a therapist. Or maybe just like a grown-up.
“My best self is still a freak in this town.”
I stepped back. “What are you talking about? Did someone call you that?”
“No, but not only do I have no mother but I have no brothers or sisters or cousins. I don’t play sports, I’m not in band, and I’d rather stare at a tree and paint than hang out at the ballpark gawking at boys.”
“Oh, sweetie, if there’s one thing you’re not, it’s a freak. You’re an artist, like your mom.”
“A lot of good that does me. She’s not here, is she?”
“No. But I am.”
“You have no clue what it’s like.”
“You are so wrong. Why do you think I was always at your mom’s house? I had no brothers and sisters either. And then when I grew up I didn’t get married and have kids like all my friends here—including your mom. I had a career that took me away from here on weekends when they were doing married and baby things. It made it really weird for me sometimes.”