up beside me.
“Tip-top,” Tinks announced. “It’s posterity time. Now, the camera
will start on the left, sweeping slowly across your pretty faces, until it
glides over to the right side. Stand still. Scratch your nose, and you’ll
show up as a big blur.”
“Wouldn’t be so bad,” Aidan said, “to be faceless.”
Shouts broke out as Tazewell and Race cut across the quad in a swift
gait. They looked identical in their black Wayfarers and garish redand-yellow sport coats. As they came closer, the yellow splotches on
their jackets turned into sunfish, while dancing hula girls shimmied
across the bellies of their comically enormous neckties.
“Tastes great,” Tazewell and Race yelled.
“Less filling,” the bleachers volleyed their response.
“Tastes great.”
Less filling. Tastes great . Thus, the banter continued. Bellingham
Academy: everything you always wanted in a prep school and less. Aidan gazed down behind her. We were a good ten feet from the
ground.
“Don’t jump,” I said.
Tazewell pushed through the bleachers.
“You weren’t going to start without us.” He and Race joined Aidan
and me on the far end, forcing us inward.
“Hey, Hester,” Race said, “move over.”
“You’re going to like this, Prosper.” Tazewell slapped my back. Tinks stood behind the camera and shouted, “Don’t forget to
smile.” She pulled a crank device and started the camera. I held still as the lens slowly captured me. Smiling straight ahead,
I heard a sound to my right. Tazewell and Race jumped from the
bleachers, catching Aidan off balance. She twisted around, her arms
swimming above her head. I reached out to her but Aidan fell back
clumsily onto the grass below. As the film rolled, Tazewell scrambled
and ran out across the lawn in a wide arc around Tinks and the camera.
Race trotted unseen behind the bleachers. They both wanted to appear
in the picture twice. Twinning themselves. I wished I’d thought of it.
While the camera glided over posed faces, cheers of encouragement
broke out for Tazewell. I cheered too. Aidan held her knee and looked
up at me. I sprang off the top stair. Soon there was whistling followed by
applause.
“I think they made it.” I knelt down beside Aidan.
She reached for the metal frame of the bleachers and pulled herself up.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Same routine. Every year.” She shook her head.
Students stomped against the stairs and filed past us. Tazewell flew
by, twirling his sunglasses and shouting, “Live, and in stereo!” Mr. Guy came around the corner and touched Aidan on the arm.
“Ready?” he asked.
Aidan nodded.
Mr. Guy tilted his head and studied me. “Mr. Prosper, are you
aware that the dress code specifically regulates that all gentlemen
maintain a haircut above the collar line?”
“My mother likes it long,” I said. “Breaks her heart when I try to
tame it.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I introduce you to my barber.” He
turned his back to me.
Aidan bowed to Mr. Guy.
As I returned to the Barracuda, Stuyvie and Race accosted me. Greeting me with smug, shit-eating grins.
“Did you see that, Prosper?” Race slapped my shoulder. “First time
in three years someone’s beat the camera. Beauty. Total beauty.” “Sure you made it in time?” I asked.
“Of course I made it.”
Stuyvie dug his hands down into his pocket and adjusted his un
derwear.
“Looked pretty close to me,” I said. The three of us walked up the
cement stairs that led into the Barracuda. “That girl, the Hester Prynne
girl, what’s her story?”
“So that’s your type.” Race loosened his tie.
Stuyvie spoke up. “Guess Prosper has a little thing for bad girls.” “I don’t have little things,” I said. “I’m curious, that’s all.” We stood together by the Barracuda’s glass doors. Race kept his
Wayfarers on as he spoke. I couldn’t see his eyes, so I couldn’t tell for
sure whether or not he was lying.
“She’s not a beast or anything. Nice hair. Who