The Look by Sophia Bennett

Author:Sophia Bennett
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Chicken House
Published: 2013-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

“What you said that time about the photo for Jesse … can you take one now?” she asks. “While I’m feeling brave enough? It’s easier than trying to explain to him.”

“I’d love to. Except I don’t have the camera on me.” I shrug apologetically.

She looks even more embarrassed. “I do. I brought it with me. Just in case. I know you said that thing about making our room into a studio, but to be honest, I hate our room right now. I hate everything about that flat. Just because … bad associations. You know.”

I do. I hate it, too, a lot of the time. I bet she hates the bathroom the most.

“Outside is good,” I agree. “I’ve been practicing here quite a bit. And Nick — that boy, you probably don’t remember — anyway, this guy, he said that outdoor light is good. Style bloggers use it all the time.”

She grins at me. “I remember Nick,” she says. Then she grins at me some more.

I go pink. I can’t imagine why she’s looking at me like that. He’s just some boy who mentioned interesting types of photography. No big deal. I haven’t heard from him all summer, and I didn’t expect to. What does she mean? I thought we were talking about style bloggers.

“Hand me the camera,” I demand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

If my test shoots have taught me anything, it’s that you rarely get a great picture by just waving the camera around and pressing the button. If Jesse’s going to see Ava at her best, the background has to be right, and I have to capture the best angle of her face, with the most flattering light and shadows, and she has to be smiling just enough, but not too much, and not doing that stupid thing with her fingernail.

I put myself in Xena mode and explain to Ava how I need her to sit. I wish I could fiddle with depth of field, like Greta did on the pebbly beach, but Ava’s camera isn’t that hi-tech. Instead, I concentrate on getting her in a decent pose and composing the picture so she’s surrounded by green, with the blue of her scarf showing up brightly against it. Certain angles make her face look too round, thanks to the steroid regime, so I avoid those. Others bring out her lovely cheekbones and her pretty nose. It’s looking OK, but it’s only when I do an impression of Vince — “A bit of gold armor and you’re smokin’!” — that her face comes alive, her violet eyes sparkle, and I get the shot that will compete with the Red-Bikini Babes.

“There!” I tell her. “What did I tell you?”

She checks the camera screen and pouts. “I look like an egg dressed as a pirate.”

“You do not. Look at your smile.”

“OK. I look like Anne Hathaway doing an impression of an egg dressed as a pirate.”

“That I’ll accept,” I agree, grinning and putting away the camera.

But I notice that she

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