Holding The Sun - chapter 1

Other than tons (and tons) of essays, I haven't really tried my hand at fictional writing before so here's my first shot! I'm not the greatest at proof reading my own work so I apologize in advance for any typos or gramatical errors! I think this story will be a little different than expected, but I would love to know what direction you think it's headed in just by this first part! This chapter isn't complete yet but I'd like to throw it out there anyways just to get a general idea of how its received. Thanks for taking the time to read it!

My last year of school. Who would’ve known that any events to take place my senior year would even hold weight? I mean, come on, most of todays media portray kids my age to be flighty, selfish, shallow…

And you know what? We are. For the most part, anyways. The sad thing is that we never realize it or recognize it. Or at least, we don’t want to admit it to ourselves. Until someone comes along that makes us notice just how damn unsound life really is.

Take me for example. Clover.Up until about ninth grade, when I would introduce myself I would follow up by saying that my mom was still high from the morphine when she named me. But after I began to think of myself as an “artist” I started to appreciate my name a little more. It set me apart, or so I thought. Made me unique. I felt I stood out from all the Ashleys and Lindsies.

Around the same time I had begun to try my hand at photography. Always dabbling in some form of art - jewelry making, painting, dance, pottery, music - but never having the patience to stick with anything for long, photography came natural to me. My parents had spent a fortune over the years trying to help me “find my niche” as they called it. They were ready to cut off the flow of funds for my ever changing habits when I accidentally stumbled upon my soon to be obsession. I found an old Polaroid of my mothers in an old box of junk and didn’t put it down for months straight. After wearing out the Polaroid, the family Nikon point and shoot, and finally, my dad’s SLR camera, my dad finally got me my very own DSLR camera for my sixteenth birthday. It was a two year old Canon Rebel that he got off of Ebay. But it wasn’t long before it was my baby. A few months later I bought a used 50mm lens and I was in business.

By the time I was a sophomore, I was already taking kids Senior pictures. I had a good eye and a distinct fresh style and soon enough that turned into family portraits and even one wedding! But my parents felt it was getting to hard to have school and a part time business, so I had to start telling people no. My dad thought I should narrow it down to just one photo session per week and I thought I would go crazy without a real live subject in front of my lens every day. So I was absolutely beside myself when I found out I made head photographer for the year book.

Now, ordinarily yearbook staff was a little bit dorky. But I didn’t mind because I knew I could change that stereotype. As least, as far as it was concerning me. Not to be egotistical or anything. But I was well know and well liked for a number of things. Great clothes, great hair, talented and still nice despite knowing these things about myself.

So all things considered, I began my senior year without much thought as to what the year may hold….other than a diploma.

“There’s no way I can fit all these pictures in this spread! I have told her to cut it down three times now and I don’t think she took out one single picture this time! If I just take one out myself there is no telling what she will do to me tomorrow. So what should I do?” she grumbled.

“Just put in the ones you want.” I said.

“You’re not listening to me!” She said. “If I do that then she wi-”

I cut her off, “ Ok, so out of all the applications that I got for the newest photography spot, guess which one I like best? The one belonging to the goober who did not fill out the info form. Not even a name!”

“So just go with the next best entry.” She suggested.

“None of the others are going to cut it. They just don’t have the kind of talent that I’m wanting for this years year book. We are the graduating class. This book has to blow all past books out of the water. You know that” I looked at her across out laptop screens. “And this person’s photos they submitted are incredible.”

I passed the ten 5x7 black and white glossies over the top of her Mac. She took them and thumbed through them slowly.

“Impressive.” she finally said.

“I know. So what am I going to do?” I asked absently as I flipped through them again.

“We’ll just ask everybody. Word will get around and whoever they belong to will get with us. Unless they are embarrassed for forgetting their own name!” She laughed at her own joke.

I stood up and started gathering my stuff into my over sized leather bag. “Are you going tonight?” I asked her.

“Of course,” she snorted dismissively, “would I miss a chance to see and be seen?”

I laughed as I logged out of my computer. “Of course not. Ok, well then I’ll pick you up around eight or eight thirty.”

“Why don’t you just say nine? Because you know that’s what you really mean!” Angela laughed. “Leave the light on,” She said to me as I walked towards the door, “I might as well work on this a little bit longer since we will be getting a late start tonight. See you in a little bit.”

I walked down the hall towards the side entrance and my hand habitually lifted to turn out the hall lights behind me but I stopped myself just in time. I slipped out the double doors and heard the metal lock click into place behind me. It was a familiar sound after spending my whole Junior year working late on the year book. The teachers had first been surprised by my dedication and the hours I put into working on it. But it didn’t take long before they saw the passion I had for it, photography in general, and had long since been used to it. Since the principal usually worked late into the evening, I was allowed to stay until he did and exit through the side doors which locked automatically. My intensity had become infectious with the year book staff and it was not long before others were staying late with me. One girl in particular had seemed to share my enthusiasm. And after many late nights in the year book room, Angela and I had become near sisters.

I was lost in thought and content with the soft thud of my Toms on the pavement that when I reached my car, I almost didn’t find it strange that an old Mustang was parked beside me. I glanced over at it after I had climbed into my drivers seat. I could make out the silhouette of a boy and what looked like a book in his hand. As I pulled out into the usually empty lot I looked in my review, and from that angle could tell that it was Jesse , the principals son. I had never seen him wait around for his dad before but Jesse had always been quiet kid and a bit of a loner, so no one noticed him much anyways.

I fished out my Zune from my bag and plugged into my radio, absently flipping through songs while I drove. My musical tastes varied from Enrique Iglesias to Dolly Parton to Journey, so it took me awhile to find the right song for the drive home. By the time I had listened to the same Maroon 5 song three times I was already home. My brother was sitting on the porch when I pulled up and I didn’t have to get to close to see the glassy look in his eye.

“Can’t even lay off the pot until you are out with your friends, huh?” I rolled my eyes and stepped around him.

“Whatever,” he giggled.

The front door was open behind him and I pushed through the screen door, kicked off my shoes in the big metal bucked inside the front door, and lunged up the stairs two at a time. My leather bag landed on the floor as soon as I reached my room and I headed for the shower. It was going to take a while to get ready for tonight.