Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)
[Monday, February 11, 2019.] 9:03 a.m.
It's a crisp, sunny monday morning, and Liz can thank her morning coffee for the fact that she's awake right now. She's never been very good at math, and Ms. Marshall's class is not the greatest place for a nap, especially for the principal's daughter.
Class passes fast enough, though, and their 15-minute break starts sooner than Liz can realise. She leaves the classroom, almost dragging her things through the floor, and makes her way over to her locker, where she finds transfer student Nicolás, her best friend, waiting for her.
“Hey, Ni, what's up?” she opens her locker and switches her books, delighted to realise she has a free period in an hour.
“You didn't tell me you participated in the school's photography contest,” he starts, grinning wolfishly, “you can't imagine how surprised I was to find out! You wounded me by not telling me, your absolute best friend, the big news.” He pretends he's crying, exaggeratedly making fake sobbing sounds.
“I didn't tell you because I didn't participate, you big goof. You know I'm shit at photography.”
“Elizabeth! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Oh, shut up! You're even worse than I am. Anyway, why did you think I participated?”
“Right! Because a picture of you won.”
“A what of mine did what?”
“You won! I'm serious, look at this!”
He shows her a page from the school newspaper, The Daily Red, where there's a picture of herself, sitting beneath her favorite tree with her eyes closed, with her favorite red beanie on, her head leaned back slightly and snowflakes falling freely to her face. She has to admit, it's a really pretty picture.
“I sure as hell didn't submit that picture. I'd never seen that before in my life!”
“Well, someone did, and they won! What're you gonna do about it?”
“What am I supposed to do? I'll just hunt down whoever took the picture and tell them off, or something.”
“Well, the credit here goes to one…” He searches the paper for a name and finds one at the bottom of the image, like a watermark. “Iris Connolly.”
“Do we know her?”
“I don't think so?”
“Anyways, great! I'll just look for Iris Connolly and find out why she took my picture.”
“Ooh, maybe you have a secret admirer!”
“Ha ha, Ni. This isn't Noah leaving little love notes in my locker.” She rolls her eyes, and Nicolás blushes.
“Shush! You know I'm still not sure it's Noah leaving those.”
I know you hope so, thinks Liz, and she ruffles Nicolás’ hair.
The warning bell rings, and they make their way to their next class. Luckily, Mr. Mendoza's class is entertaining and brief, and Liz approaches his desk as soon as it's over.
“Hey, Mr. Mendoza,” she lifts up the newspaper page she'd left in her notebook before, “do you know Iris Connolly?”
“Yeah, sure! She's a formidable young woman! Did you need her for anything?”
“I just wanted to ask her about her entry for the newspaper photography contest.”
“Oh! Well, She's in class 12B!”
“Thanks, Mr. Mendoza.”
Taking advantage of the fact that she has a free period now, Liz sets off to find the mystery person who's taken over her mind for the day.
She walks to Nicolás’ locker and opens it, glad that he doesn't change his combination, and takes a look at the schedule pasted on the door. Who knew them being in separate classes due to causing too much ruckus would end up being helpful?
“Ah-ha! They should be having Study Hall at Mrs. Wilson's right now!” She claps her hands and looks around to make sure nobody saw her talking to herself.
Lamenting the fact that the Literature classroom is almost all the way to the other side of the school, she starts walking and thinks of what she'll say to Iris when she finds her.
For starters, why did she take a picture of her? How did she know Liz was in the forest at that time? Was she stalking her? Why did she submit the picture for the school newspaper?
She knocks on the door of the Literature classroom and feels butterflies flying rampant in her stomach for some reason. Why did the name Iris Connolly sound so familiar?
“Liz, what a surprise! I hope you're not here to take Nico out, 'cause you know I won't allow it.” The young teacher chuckles, as if remembering an old joke they shared.
“No, I'm actually looking for Iris Connolly.”
“Great!” She looks inside the classroom and signals for someone to come outside. “Just don't take too long, okay?”
“Sure, don't worry.”
“Were you looking for me?”
The new voice takes over Liz's mind completely. She looks at the girl approaching them and feels her heart stutter and her breathing hitch; she's tall and dark skinned, with honey-coloured eyes that shine just as bright as a Smoky Quartz, thin lips that look way too pink, and a large nose that looks entirely perfect on her face. She's wearing a lilac top beneath a blue plaid shirt with jeans rolled up her ankles and a pair of pretty white sneakers.
Liz suddenly remembers why the name sounded so familiar. Iris was the girl she'd crushed on for a while back, not really knowing her name or anything else about her.
“Yeah, uh-” Liz's throat dries up and her words die on her tongue. “I was- I was just wondering if I could ask- well, ask about your entry for the newspaper photography contest? I mean, it's- well, it's a picture of me, I think, I mean…”
Iris starts laughing, looking embarrassed, and Liz stops talking.
“I'm sorry! I was walking through the forest, looking for wildflowers to photograph, when I saw you!” She blushes, “and you looked so beautiful… I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself.”
Liz's eyes widen, and her face flushes.
“Ah, well… Y-you really thought I looked beautiful?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you wanna go out with me? For coffee? Or something?” It's Iris who looks surprised this time.
“I- uh, yeah! I would love that.”
“Great! Well, here, type your number onto my phone and I'll text you! I know this really great place that sells really nice bubble tea! I mean, if you want to go there…?” She hands Iris her phone and fidgets with her fingers.
“That- that sounds amazing, sure!”
“Great! I'll, uh, I will see you later?”
“See you.”
Iris walks back inside the classroom and Liz hides her face in her hands, too flustered to do anything else.
She can't wait for school to be over.
