through the break. But I don't care right now. I love the little notebook so much I want to steal it.
“Grace, do you know a boardinghouse in town where I can spend the night?”
“We take boarders,” I say, and my mind is racing ahead. This man with his tie and his suit, he looks richer than the other ones who stayed in Pépé's bed. “But it's one dollar,” I shout louder than I mean to. He don't seem to blink at the price, but the light is reflecting off his glasses so I can't really see his eyes. “And you have to pay before you eat.”
“That'll be fine. Where do you live?”
“Up on French Hill. The Forcier place. Everybody in town knows where it is.” I want to turn somersaults. Won't Mamère be pleased when she finds out. A whole dollar coming into the house ‘cause of me.
“Time to give it back,” he says with his hand out. He means the notebook.
“I haven't written all the names yet.”
“I can get the rest of them later.” He's talking fast now, his voice close to my ear. “Grace, I want to take a picture of all the kids in the mill. Can you get them to meet me after work?”
“Where?” He talks to me as if we are both workers and we have a job to do. Together.
“Outside the mill gates. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug, but I'm not sure. We all scatter like bugs when the mill bell rings. I'll make Arthur help me.
French Johnny is starting down the row toward us.
“Give the notebook back now.”
“I wish I had one of these,” I say, but I hand him the little book and it disappears quick into his pocket. He sets me back up in the same place, leaning against Marie.
French Johnny and Mamère almost crash into each other at the end of the row and now they're both headed our way.
“Three of my frames are waiting on Grace,” Mamère says loudly. “You're taking too much time, mister.”
Mr. Hine ain't looking at me. He's staring back down into the hood at the top of the camera and making that eye scoot forward and back again. Finally it stops. We stare at each other. I can see a little tiny me in the eye at the end of the tube and for a second, this scared feeling fills up my throat.
“Stand away, all of you,” he says to the others, and his chin is tucked so far down that his voice sounds like it's coming from under a rock.
Mamère and French Johnny pull off to the side as if the three-legged dog with its funny box head might bite them. I'm glad I'm resting against Marie. She makes me feel safe.
“Hold very still, Grace.” Mr. Hine pulls a black square thing straight up from the back of the camera just as he calls to me in a sharp voice, “Keep your eyes open as long as you can.”
“Don't you hurt her—” I hear my mother say, and the eye of the camera opens wide suddenly as if it means to gobble me up. Then everything happens at once. With one hand he throws a match onto the powder while he squeezes a black bulb at the end of a cord with the other. There's aflash and everything goes white like something has blown up right in the middle of my eyeballs. Smoke tickles my nose. Inside my closed eyes, I can see circles floating out wider and wider from a middle black dot. That's the way an echo would look if you could draw it, I think.
“What the devil was that?” roars French Johnny.
“Grace, open your eyes,” my mother shouts in my ear, shaking me all the while. “She's blind, she can't see.”
“She's fine,” says Mr. Hine, his voice near now, and I feel his hand come to rest on the top of my head. “Don't worry, Mrs. Forcier.”
I like them all squabbling over me for that moment, but I know I can't wait no longer so I open my eyes. First I see something that looks like the ghost of Mr. Hine hunched over his camera just at the moment when he squeezed that bulb and the light flashed. But he's not there no more. He's right beside me talking over my head to French Johnny. The ghost picture fades and next, I make out Arthur, who's standing by
“Grace, do you know a boardinghouse in town where I can spend the night?”
“We take boarders,” I say, and my mind is racing ahead. This man with his tie and his suit, he looks richer than the other ones who stayed in Pépé's bed. “But it's one dollar,” I shout louder than I mean to. He don't seem to blink at the price, but the light is reflecting off his glasses so I can't really see his eyes. “And you have to pay before you eat.”
“That'll be fine. Where do you live?”
“Up on French Hill. The Forcier place. Everybody in town knows where it is.” I want to turn somersaults. Won't Mamère be pleased when she finds out. A whole dollar coming into the house ‘cause of me.
“Time to give it back,” he says with his hand out. He means the notebook.
“I haven't written all the names yet.”
“I can get the rest of them later.” He's talking fast now, his voice close to my ear. “Grace, I want to take a picture of all the kids in the mill. Can you get them to meet me after work?”
“Where?” He talks to me as if we are both workers and we have a job to do. Together.
“Outside the mill gates. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug, but I'm not sure. We all scatter like bugs when the mill bell rings. I'll make Arthur help me.
French Johnny is starting down the row toward us.
“Give the notebook back now.”
“I wish I had one of these,” I say, but I hand him the little book and it disappears quick into his pocket. He sets me back up in the same place, leaning against Marie.
French Johnny and Mamère almost crash into each other at the end of the row and now they're both headed our way.
“Three of my frames are waiting on Grace,” Mamère says loudly. “You're taking too much time, mister.”
Mr. Hine ain't looking at me. He's staring back down into the hood at the top of the camera and making that eye scoot forward and back again. Finally it stops. We stare at each other. I can see a little tiny me in the eye at the end of the tube and for a second, this scared feeling fills up my throat.
“Stand away, all of you,” he says to the others, and his chin is tucked so far down that his voice sounds like it's coming from under a rock.
Mamère and French Johnny pull off to the side as if the three-legged dog with its funny box head might bite them. I'm glad I'm resting against Marie. She makes me feel safe.
“Hold very still, Grace.” Mr. Hine pulls a black square thing straight up from the back of the camera just as he calls to me in a sharp voice, “Keep your eyes open as long as you can.”
“Don't you hurt her—” I hear my mother say, and the eye of the camera opens wide suddenly as if it means to gobble me up. Then everything happens at once. With one hand he throws a match onto the powder while he squeezes a black bulb at the end of a cord with the other. There's aflash and everything goes white like something has blown up right in the middle of my eyeballs. Smoke tickles my nose. Inside my closed eyes, I can see circles floating out wider and wider from a middle black dot. That's the way an echo would look if you could draw it, I think.
“What the devil was that?” roars French Johnny.
“Grace, open your eyes,” my mother shouts in my ear, shaking me all the while. “She's blind, she can't see.”
“She's fine,” says Mr. Hine, his voice near now, and I feel his hand come to rest on the top of my head. “Don't worry, Mrs. Forcier.”
I like them all squabbling over me for that moment, but I know I can't wait no longer so I open my eyes. First I see something that looks like the ghost of Mr. Hine hunched over his camera just at the moment when he squeezed that bulb and the light flashed. But he's not there no more. He's right beside me talking over my head to French Johnny. The ghost picture fades and next, I make out Arthur, who's standing by
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