Dark Sunshine by Terri Farley Page A

she’d understand I’m not going to hurt her.”
    Jen pressed the back of her hand to Sam’s brow. “I think you’re coming down with something more serious than my cold, Samantha Anne.”
    â€œAnd I’ve got the cure,” Mrs. Ely said, appearing at the classroom door.
    â€œA healthy dose of history?” Jen asked.
    Mrs. Ely laughed, and Sam envied Jen’s easy way of balancing the fact that Mrs. Ely was not only a Darton High teacher but also Jake’s mom.
    Mrs. Ely had known both of them since they were little kids. She was also Sam’s history teacher and atalented photographer who encouraged Sam’s work with a camera.
    â€œAlmost as good as history,” Mrs. Ely said. “A photo contest. Jen, you’d better run.” She shooed Jen away as the bell rang. “And Sam, talk to me after class.”
    Sam moved toward her desk, but her way was blocked by Rachel Slocum. Darton High’s reigning princess and student body treasurer, Rachel was duly qualified. As Linc Slocum’s daughter, she was by far the richest girl in the school.
    And the most stylish. Right now, Rachel smoothed a wing of coffee-brown hair away from her eyes, negotiating a deal for last night’s homework with a bespectacled boy who could only swallow, hard, as she talked with him.
    â€œI’d be so grateful.” Rachel leaned toward him.
    One of the advantages of really expensive clothes was that they flowed over you like liquid. At least they did on Rachel. She was wearing some kind of beige outfit that would have looked like a feed sack on Sam, but Rachel looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
    Sam sat and looked over her shoulder in time to see Rachel leave empty-handed. The guy hadn’t given in, and Sam almost applauded. Rachel caught her gloating expression, and Sam could see she was in for it. The last time Rachel had had it in for her, she’d broken the expensive camera signed out to Sam fromjournalism class. What would she do this time?
    Sam took a piece of lined paper from her binder and prepared to take notes. Before Mrs. Ely began talking, though, Sam wrote a note to herself. “Watch your back,” it said, and with everything else going on, she vowed to take her own advice.
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    After class, Sam approached Mrs. Ely’s desk. The teacher was handing makeup work to one student and scolding another for gossiping in class, but she slipped Sam a flyer.
    The first thing Sam noticed was that the contest wasn’t limited to entrants under eighteen. It was open to professional photographers as well as amateurs. She must have looked dubious; because as soon as the others moved toward the door, Mrs. Ely said, “Samantha, that reward you won is as much as some photographers make in a year.”
    She didn’t want to contradict Mrs. Ely, but she sort of had to. “But I earned it under pretty unusual circumstances.”
    â€œYou did, but your work was fine, and look at the name of the contest. It’s perfect for you.”
    Night Magic, the contest was called. The subject could be anything shot at night, and Sam had once confided to Mrs. Ely that her dream was to photograph wild horses running at night.
    â€œIt is perfect,” Sam agreed. “But with the, uh, stuff that’s going on—” Sam glanced over her shoulder.
    Rachel gathered her things in slow motion, eaves-dropping. Mrs. Ely nodded that she knew what Sam was talking about. After all, Gram had called Three Ponies Ranch first when she’d been looking for Sam that night.
    â€œThe deadline’s near Christmas,” Mrs. Ely said. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
    The warning bell rang in the hall, and Sam jumped like a racehorse in the starting gate.
    â€œI can’t be late,” she blurted to Mrs. Ely. “If I don’t earn all A’s in citizenship, I can’t ride.”
    â€œWhat a tragedy,” Rachel