has been bad, that I’ve been interrupted. And all those things are true, but I also know there’s another reason: I’m stalling. I don’t want to take some spectacular shot that Melissa will feel she has no choice but to run asap.
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5/5/11 4:25 PM
As I sit with my half- eaten lunch, I know there’s really something wrong with me. I could have taken hundreds of shots if I’d wanted to. If I’d wanted to get them badly enough.
Even if they turned out to be useless, I should have been taking them.
The trouble is, something’s stopping me.
I take a swig from my bottle of water and glance at that something, who’s sitting across the room from me: Ned.
This morning, after group (where, thankfully, the focus had been on Seth and his emotional breakthrough), I’d asked around about Ned, hoping to get that staccato- style story in three phrases or less. But no one knew all that much. A couple people thought it was father issues, a couple thought it was fame issues, no one thought he was here for anything like drugs or alcohol (which, again, confi rmed Melissa’s promise about the facility). Father issues would fall in line with what he’d told me last night, but everyone knew Matthew Hartnett left a lot to be desired. It was hardly breaking news.
“Jo?” an inmate I don’t know taps me on the shoulder from behind, making me jump halfway to the ceiling. What is wrong with me? I’m never on edge like this.
“Yep?” I try to act something close to normal as I look up.
“There’s a phone call for you. At the front desk. I think it’s your mom?”
My eyebrows raise sky high when I hear this and I resist 99
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5/5/11 4:25 PM
the urge to jump up on the table and yell, “It’s a miracle!” because I’m guessing it’s my “other” mother— Melissa. And I’m sure she’s right about ready to put me in the naughty corner.
I make my way out to the lobby, and the woman manning the front desk gestures to the phone I’m looking for.
“Hello?” I say, picking up. I try not to sound too worried that she’s calling.
“Jo. I need an update,” a voice barks at me.
Oh yeah. That’s Melissa, all right.
“The opportunities haven’t been great,” I say, by way of explanation. At least that’s half the truth. There’s no way I’m giving Melissa the other half— that my ability to point and shoot hasn’t been all that great, either.
“Never stopped you before,” Melissa answers.
“Well, I’ve got a couple of good . . . um, life- skills ideas,” I suddenly change my wording at the last second as Katrina, Ned, and a few others pass by me and head for the front door. Katrina gestures toward the lake and I nod and hold up a “one- minute” fi nger.
“What?”
“Sorry, people around,” I say. “I got a couple passable shots this morning,” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’m hoping for some better ones this afternoon.”
“That’s a start, then. I’ve decided we’ve got to run with this soon, so the pressure’s on. You have another day. Maybe two.
100
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5/5/11 4:25 PM
Three tops. I’m following up some leads on the story, which will buy you some time. But make it snappy. You’re not there to fi nd yourself.”
I should have known that nine days didn’t mean nine days when it came to Melissa. “We’re . . . ,” I start, but then hear the dial tone. Guess that’ll be it for our conversation. I end the call and pass the phone back. I’d been about to say we were set to go canoeing on the lake this afternoon, and I might be able to get a few more decent shots.
Maybe I can drown my guilt out there while I’m at it.
★ ★ ★
I can’t risk taking my real camera down to the lake, even in my backpack, so I pat my fauxPod, still in my pocket from lunch, and follow
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 98
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 98
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
As I sit with my half- eaten lunch, I know there’s really something wrong with me. I could have taken hundreds of shots if I’d wanted to. If I’d wanted to get them badly enough.
Even if they turned out to be useless, I should have been taking them.
The trouble is, something’s stopping me.
I take a swig from my bottle of water and glance at that something, who’s sitting across the room from me: Ned.
This morning, after group (where, thankfully, the focus had been on Seth and his emotional breakthrough), I’d asked around about Ned, hoping to get that staccato- style story in three phrases or less. But no one knew all that much. A couple people thought it was father issues, a couple thought it was fame issues, no one thought he was here for anything like drugs or alcohol (which, again, confi rmed Melissa’s promise about the facility). Father issues would fall in line with what he’d told me last night, but everyone knew Matthew Hartnett left a lot to be desired. It was hardly breaking news.
“Jo?” an inmate I don’t know taps me on the shoulder from behind, making me jump halfway to the ceiling. What is wrong with me? I’m never on edge like this.
“Yep?” I try to act something close to normal as I look up.
“There’s a phone call for you. At the front desk. I think it’s your mom?”
My eyebrows raise sky high when I hear this and I resist 99
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 99
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 99
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
the urge to jump up on the table and yell, “It’s a miracle!” because I’m guessing it’s my “other” mother— Melissa. And I’m sure she’s right about ready to put me in the naughty corner.
I make my way out to the lobby, and the woman manning the front desk gestures to the phone I’m looking for.
“Hello?” I say, picking up. I try not to sound too worried that she’s calling.
“Jo. I need an update,” a voice barks at me.
Oh yeah. That’s Melissa, all right.
“The opportunities haven’t been great,” I say, by way of explanation. At least that’s half the truth. There’s no way I’m giving Melissa the other half— that my ability to point and shoot hasn’t been all that great, either.
“Never stopped you before,” Melissa answers.
“Well, I’ve got a couple of good . . . um, life- skills ideas,” I suddenly change my wording at the last second as Katrina, Ned, and a few others pass by me and head for the front door. Katrina gestures toward the lake and I nod and hold up a “one- minute” fi nger.
“What?”
“Sorry, people around,” I say. “I got a couple passable shots this morning,” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’m hoping for some better ones this afternoon.”
“That’s a start, then. I’ve decided we’ve got to run with this soon, so the pressure’s on. You have another day. Maybe two.
100
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 100
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 100
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
Three tops. I’m following up some leads on the story, which will buy you some time. But make it snappy. You’re not there to fi nd yourself.”
I should have known that nine days didn’t mean nine days when it came to Melissa. “We’re . . . ,” I start, but then hear the dial tone. Guess that’ll be it for our conversation. I end the call and pass the phone back. I’d been about to say we were set to go canoeing on the lake this afternoon, and I might be able to get a few more decent shots.
Maybe I can drown my guilt out there while I’m at it.
★ ★ ★
I can’t risk taking my real camera down to the lake, even in my backpack, so I pat my fauxPod, still in my pocket from lunch, and follow
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