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Marcus must have heard me, because this time he replied. “We’ll figure it out, ” he said. “Just don’t give up hope. ”

When the bell rang fifty minutes later, we left the place in more of a mess than we’d found it, and even though we’d flipped through my book, the elaborate designs only depressed me more.

Hope. How was I supposed to have hope?

The next couple of days were much the same, except we tidied up a bit and took the odd break to walk the stage in a vain attempt to find inspiration. We headed to the Arts Club after school each day, and I became more and more comfortable being with him, even when neither of us had anything to say. In fact, the quieter it grew, the more comfortable I became. Normally I worried about saying the right thing, but I didn’t have to worry about the way I acted or what did—or didn’t—come out of my mouth with Marcus.

* * *

“Hey, drama queen, ” Marcus said when I showed up at our lockers Monday morning. “Can’t wait to get back to our kingdom. ” He nodded toward the theatre.

Did that make him my king? I didn’t care if it was a joke. It still warmed my insides.

I gave him an eye roll to combat my giddy smile. Just then Shayleen and Deirdre rounded the corner. Deirdre looked away like she hadn’t seen me, but Shayleen stared straight at me.

As she passed by, she let out a breathy laugh.

Good. Laugh all you want. He’s a real friend, I felt like saying. But I bit my lip.

“What do you have now? ” Marcus asked, distracting me.

“Art, ” I gulped out. I wished I had Marcus’s ability to not let things affect me.

I’d finally gotten my drawing portfolio back from Mr. Dewdney with a B at the top. The plethora of notes about different ways I should try looking at my subjects made me feel like he was being nice with the B. But I had a good eye, I knew I did. It was getting it from my head to my paper that screwed me up. If only I’d been able to submit a photography portfolio.

Mr. Dewdney chattered on about the mediums he wanted us to explore during the last month of classes. I didn’t pay much attention until he said, “You’ll find some interesting paper supplies in the darkroom at the back. ”

“The what? ” I blurted. Everyone stared at me, so I sheepishly raised my hand.

Mr. Dewdney furrowed his brow and nodded in my direction. His beard looked like he hadn’t bothered to trim it since the beginning of the year, and I wondered if there were rules about stuff like that.

“Um, did you say ‘darkroom, ’ Mr. Dewdney? ” With all twenty-nine other students’ eyes on me, I muttered, “I was just. . . ” My eyes moved to my desk in front of me. “Curious. ”

“Yes. Of course, with the popularity of digital cameras these days, our room is used predominantly for storage now. ” Mr. Dewdney cleared his throat. “It was originally designed as a small room to develop film prints, ” he said slowly, as though we’d all have trouble understanding the concept.

“All right, then. ” Mr. Dewdney clapped his hands.

My hand shot up again.

Mr. Dewdney stroked his scruffy face and looked back at me. Thankfully, the other students seemed to be losing interest.

“Can I use it? ”

Mr. Dewdney’s eyebrows pulled together. “The darkroom, ” I said.

He pursed his lips like he was thinking about it. “Talk to me after class. ”

* * *

After the rest of the students filed out of the room, I stopped next to the giant metal teacher’s desk. Mr. Dewdney looked up at me with a blank expression.

“The darkroom? ” I offered.

“Mmm, yes. ” He took a sip from his coffee mug. “Now why do you want to use it, Miss. . . ? ”

“Rochester. Loann Rochester. ” He still didn’t remember my last name after an entire year of art with him. Why do you think I would want to use it? I felt like saying. “Um, to develop my film? ”

“Oh. You don’t have a digital camera? ”

I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed. Up until now I’d thought myself lucky to have the camera I’d been given. But his tone, it made me feel so. . . incomplete.

“Have you ever developed your own film? ” Mr. Dewdney asked.

“Mm-hmm, ” I lied. Surely I could figure it out.

“Well. . . I can’t leave a student here alone, and I’m only here a few afternoons per week. ”

“So I can use it? ” I bounced a little off my heels. “Thanks, Mr. Dewdney! ” I held myself back from giving him a hug and practically skipped for the hallway. I didn’t have any film with me, but I’d bring some tomorrow.

How hard could it be?

CHAPTER NINE

All Marcus usually wanted to do was go for coffee, and soon I developed a taste for it. But he’d paid so many times that I’d lost track of how much I owed him. I didn’t exactly have allowance money sprouting from my pockets. I decided before he could offer up his invite today, I would offer my own.

“Why don’t you come to my place? ” I said from my side of a pile of scrap metal we were sifting through out behind the metalwork shop.

He tossed a rod he’d been studying back into the pile with a bit too much force. His eyes glazed over. I kept watching him, but he just kept pulling hunks of metal off and chucking them back without a reply.

“No one’s there after school, ” I added. “We can make coffee if you want. ”

“I guess, ” he muttered as the bell rang. There was more to this, but I wasn’t sure what, and so I wasn’t sure if I should ask.

* * *

Inside our front door, Marcus stood glued to the mat while I threw my jacket and shoes in the direction of the closet.

“Come on. It’s okay. And no one’s home, anyway. ” He still didn’t move, even as I headed for the kitchen. “Seriously. ”

Slowly he pulled at the back of his sneakers to get them off.

“Do you want coffee? ” I asked, even though I had no idea how to start up Mom’s ancient brewer.

“Nah, it’s okay. ” He still sounded anything but comfortable, and I felt bad for bringing him here. This seemed like a whole new level of weirdness.

“Have a seat. ” I motioned to the couch. “I’ll get us some cookies. ” I headed for the pantry without waiting for a response. Was Marcus worried that I was going to jump him, or what? That didn’t make sense. We’d been alone plenty of times backstage and at the Arts Club. When I returned, he sat on one end of the couch, straight and tall, like he was waiting to jump up and say “Bingo! ” I sat at the other end, leaving enough width for a set of major appliances between us, and placed the open bag of cookies on the table. There were only four left in the package, though I was sure Mom had just bought it a couple days ago.

Marcus helped himself to a cookie.

I flicked on the TV, and after five minutes of sitcom fun, I could feel him start to relax. He even laughed. An actual laugh out of Marcus. I watched his face jiggle in my peripheral vision.

When one of the characters used the word “footling” Marcus twisted his mouth to one side.

“You don’t know what it means either? ” I asked.

When he shook his head, I ran upstairs and grabbed my dictionary from beside my desk. I traipsed back down with it already open.

“‘Footling: Adjective. . . ’” I read out. “Means trivial or silly. ”

“So ‘footling’ and ‘Loann’ are, like, synonyms, ” he said.

“Ha, ha. ” I forced my eyes together in a glare, even though his joking made me feel suddenly bubbly.

“I like to learn new words, ” he said.

I tried to think of a good word to get back at him. But it had to be something really smart. One he didn’t know.

I thumbed through my dictionary. One of my photos I’d used as a bookmark slid out and landed on the floor between us. It was one from the backyard, a squirrel with its tiny paws reaching out toward the camera. The sky was dull behind the little rust-colored guy, and it made him stand out like a shot of color in a black-and-white movie.

Marcus picked it up. “Cool, ” he said, looking at it for almost a full minute. “You have anything else like this? ”

I nodded, swallowing hard. He kept staring at me, waiting for me to elaborate, so I raced back up to my room and returned with the pictures of the oak tree.

He studied these even longer. My knee bounced against the coffee table. I’d never seen anyone so taken with anything I had done before. Looking at Marcus’s face, I wanted to cry from joy or take his picture, I wasn’t sure which.

He held the photo a few feet away from him and squinted.

My armpits moistened. “You’re going to start snoring any second, right? ” I said with a forced laugh. Now that he was analyzing them, they probably weren’t that good after all and I felt the need to intercept him from saying so.

“You know, ” he said at last, “this might be perfect for that outdoor scene. ”

I crinkled my brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. ”

“For the play. ” He tilted his head. “I wonder. . . ” He clucked his tongue a couple of times, keeping me in suspense. “If we could blow this up on the screen somehow. You know, at the back of the stage. ”

And that’s how we came up with our brilliant idea: To create a photo-set.

By the time Claire and Mom ambled through the door, Marcus and I had written down nearly a hundred different photo possibilities for me to track down. Marcus said he could help with the computer projection part of things, which was great because I had no idea where to start with that. I casually called out, “Hi, ” to Mom and Claire, while Marcus kept writing down new ideas.

Mom’s mouth dropped open and she quickly snapped it shut.

I laughed under my breath, trying not to acknowledge her weirdness. Holy heart attack, Batman, Loann has a boy in the house!

“Mom, this is Marcus. My friend from school. ” I expected a similar scene to when Josh had been here the other night. Marcus standing and shaking her hand. My mom asking if we had any classes together.

But Marcus looked at the floor as Mom gritted out, “Nice to meet you, ” her head flicking between him and me. Then she continued on her path for the kitchen. “Come on, Claire. Help me with dinner. ”

I knew Marcus wasn’t her ideal idea of a BFF, but did she really have to act so pissed off?

Of course, Marcus wasn’t exactly the ambassador of friendliness either, but that was different. He wasn’t outgoing with anyone. Well, except for me.

The nanosecond they were out of the room, Marcus jumped up to leave. I followed him to the door.

“Sorry my mom was so rude, ” I said.

Marcus didn’t even unlace his shoes, just slid them on, crunched down on the heels, and turned for the door. “See you tomorrow, ” he muttered.

I barely had the door open for him when he pushed his way through it. I thought about watching him walk down the street, but he seemed to want some privacy. Besides, I was too mad at Mom to just stand there.

I shut the door and marched for the kitchen. How could she do that? It’s not like I had friends to spare, or anything. I was ready to give her a piece of my mind, but before I reached the door Claire’s voice trilled through from the other side.

“I wouldn’t worry about them, Mom. Loey just had a fight with her friends and she’s using him to hang out with in the meantime. ”

Um, what?!

I stopped in place and stared at the door. I figured Claire would be able to see what a great guy Marcus is. How he’s so much better of a friend for me than Shayleen. Then again, Claire had a “popular” brain, and probably thought the same way as the guys who teased Marcus and pushed him up against his locker.

I couldn’t believe how much my opinion of Claire was changing. I’d always looked up to my sister. Always.

But for the first time, I thought of Claire as not only different from me, but as one of them—the enemy of us.

CHAPTER TEN

I checked out the darkroom briefly after art class the next day and found a cupboard full of solutions and supplies. Who knew how old they were, but they would at least give me a start. Now all I had to do was get Marcus to help me with the research on how to use them.

“I swear, my parents are working until, like, ten tonight, ” I told him after last period. “My sister’s almost never there either, but even if she is, trust me, she won’t want anything to do with us. ”

Marcus shrugged like he didn’t really want to, so I said, “Or we could go to your place. ”

“Your place is fine, ” he said quickly. He must have felt my surprise, because he added, “It’s just—parents don’t usually like me. ”

“My mom doesn’t like anyone, including me, after arguing with old people all day. It’s totally not you, ” I told him as we headed down the hall for the outside doors. It was partially a lie. If Marcus was friendly and outgoing like Josh, Mom would no doubt be a little warmer.

To change the subject, I explained my idea to Marcus. “It won’t cost anything for developing if we do it ourselves, ” I said, after telling him about the darkroom. “So we wouldn’t have to talk about our plans with Mr. Benson until we have something to show him. ”

Marcus’s brow crinkled. “We’re talking about a lot of pictures, Loann. And it’s not like either of us have done this before. ”

Seeing how unsure Marcus was, my confidence wavered. But we talked it over, and finally decided to research it before we made a decision.

Marcus’s shoulders tensed when we got to my front door. We climbed the stairs toward the computer room. Before hitting the top landing, I heard Claire pecking away at the keyboard.

I looked at my watch. “What day is it? ”

“Tuesday, ” Marcus said, in an uncomfortable whisper. He took a step back down the stairs.

Great. The one day my sister had free from her many activities. But I didn’t want Marcus rushing off. “No biggie, ” I told him. “We’ll just ask Claire if we can use the computer for a few minutes. ”

I took the rest of the stairs two at a time.

“Can we get on there for a bit? ” I asked.

Claire grabbed a paper bag from beside her and crumpled it up, then turned back to the computer and chewed something before she cleared her throat. “I’m busy. Can’t you use it later? ”

“Oh, come on, Claire. You’re just on G-chat. We both know you’ll be on there for hours. ”

“And you won’t? ” She tilted her head until her hair fell like a barrier between us. Like she was trying to get her hair to have the last word in this conversation.

“We just need it for a bit of. . . homework. ” I put my books down, accidentally knocking her brown crumpled bag to the floor.

“Fine. ” She hit the X at the top of the screen, grabbed her trash so quickly I was sure the bag must be on fire, and marched out of the room, not even looking at Marcus as she went.

I wondered what she needed to hide in the bag. Did she think I would take it from her? Marcus pulled up a chair beside me, seemingly much more relaxed, which brought me back to the moment.

I stared at the screen, not knowing where to start, but I knew I had to put up a confident front. I Googled “darkroom, ” which garnered more than a million entries, everything from electrical advice to children’s slumber parties. Marcus reached past me and added the word “photography. ” I felt the heat of his arm hovering in front of me until he pulled back. Our search results were slightly more manageable at twenty thousand.

Marcus pointed to one called “Darkroom Basics. ”

I clicked on it and a splash screen for Kettleton College in Chicago appeared. The screen morphed into one of black text, an article with the heading “Introduction to the Darkroom. ” Underneath that, a few lines advertised the college’s photography program. I skimmed over the ad and went straight for the information I needed. Scrolling down, I read about chemical mixing, light, temperature, and resin-coated and fiber-based papers. More than anything, I was starting to grasp how much there was to learn.

Since Marcus seemed like the computer whiz out of the two of us, we switched spots. He printed off some pages, and I leafed through them, circling things I thought were important while he continued searching. I figured if I could make the amount we had to learn appear smaller somehow, that could only be good.

The next thing I knew, Claire tapped her foot in the doorway. “I thought you weren’t going to be long, Loey. It’s been more than an hour. I need to get back on there, and you know you’re not supposed to have boys upstairs. ”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Did she really just say that?

“Oh, like you’ve never had boys upstairs, ” I snapped back. Her face went beet-red, and I wondered exactly how many of Mom and Dad’s “boys rules” she had broken. The idea made me more angry than giddy or jealous. “Don’t worry. We’ll go downstairs and work, since we have nothing to hide. ”

I knew it was a bitchy thing to say, but she’d really embarrassed me. She glared, but didn’t say anything back, and she was in my warm chair with her G-chat screen open before Marcus and I reached the door.

* * *

A couple of students sat at a side table working on art projects when we arrived after school the following day. Thankfully Mr. Dewdney remembered why I was there.

He opened the door at the back of his classroom for us. “Now I expect you both to keep this room clean. ”

I scanned the messy storage area. “Um, of course. ”

“Obviously you know what to use for light and temperature. The controls are here. ” He motioned to some dials on the wall.

I nodded, trying to don my most confident face.

I thanked him and let Marcus into the small room first, surprised when Mr. Dewdney didn’t made a big deal about me being alone with Marcus the way Mr. Benson had.

The door had rubber trim around the edges, so I had to give it a good pull to get it to shut behind me. There were only a couple of feet for either of us to move between a small sink near the door and two counters, one in front of us and one behind. Colorful construction paper, old, rusted tubes of paint, felts, brushes, and broken pencil crayons covered the surfaces. The room felt claustrophobic—but in a good way, because Marcus was here. I could smell him in the small space. Different from Josh. Still boy, but more outdoorsy, like fresh-cut grass.

Marcus and I spent the next half an hour cleaning and then checking all the solutions. The small space made it difficult to move without bumping each other and touching hips.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, and gave the basin a quick rinse. Then I flicked off the fluorescents and turned on the red light.

“Cool, ” Marcus said.

It took our eyes a few seconds to adjust, and in the dimness, Marcus suddenly felt even closer. I kept my eyes on the supplies in front of me as I jostled my film out of its case.

Marcus poured the package of developer powder into a brown gallon jug as though he’d done this a million times. I squinted at him, wondering how much he’d studied the darkroom notes. Even though I’d read the directions more than twenty times last night and again during classes today, I still felt so unsure. I ran the water in the sink, trying to gauge with my fingers what seventy-two degrees might feel like, but with my body playing weird temperature games in here being so close to Marcus, it was hard to tell. I’d need to bring a thermometer next time for sure.

My arm brushed across Marcus’s, but he didn’t shift back the way most people would. My little arm hairs stood up, like they were just waiting for me to do it again. I swallowed, wanting to, but knowing that with my grace, it might come across more like I was pushing him out of the way.

I needed to concentrate on the task. After adding the lukewarm water to the jug, I screwed the lid back on and shook.

“Two to three minutes of shaking, ” the directions had said, but my arms gave out after thirty seconds.

“Here. ” Marcus took the brown jug, reading my mind.

I watched the clock and thought about that picture of Claire and Josh kissing. If Marcus saw it, would he think I was some kind of weirdo stalker?

And more important, was I some kind of weirdo stalker?

When the shaking time was done, I memorized where each of the items I needed was, then switched off the safe light and fumbled to find my roll of film. Trying to wind the film onto the reel, I got quickly flustered. “I can’t get this stupid thing! ”

Marcus’s arm brushed me again as he slid his hands over mine, holding the edges of the film and helping me guide it onto the reel. His hands seemed so warm and calm compared to my clammy, spastic ones. The film didn’t go on at first, and I almost made a crack about keeping our day jobs but my mouth was too dry to talk, with him leaned right up against me like that. After a few tries, the film fell into place like a key in a perfectly fitted lock. Marcus’s breath echoed in the darkness beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of it.

“Thanks, ” I whispered, liking the way my hushed voice made it feel even more intimate.

He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. “What’s next? ”

How embarrassing. I was glad for the first time that the lights were off. I put the reel into the canister, and once the lid was closed, I took a big breath and then turned on the safe light. At least the red light wouldn’t give away the flare in my cheeks.

“Now we wait, ” I said. Marcus had the strangest smile. “What? ”

He shook his head and stared at the canister. I couldn’t help but let my mind try to figure him out. Maybe he was as excited as I was about waiting in the dark together.

I inched my fingers along the counter toward him, but then lost my nerve and picked up the canister. Every twenty seconds, I rotated the can, glad to have something to do.

“So, you and Claire. . . ” Marcus’s deep voice surprised me, sounding louder than normal in the small space. “You love each other? You hate each other? What? ”

I let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much. We’re sisters, ” I said, as if that should explain everything. But by the silence that followed, I wondered if it did. “It can be hard sometimes. ”

“I always wanted an older brother, ” he said. I wondered if that meant he had a younger brother. Or maybe he was an only child. Before I could ask, he leaned past me, so his chest practically touched my arm, and angled the timer so he could see it. He pulled away slowly, then focused on his pile of papers with the directions. The guy was hard to read. One second I felt like he was trying to get closer, the next like I was invading his space. I thought girls were supposed to be the complicated ones, though I admit, hanging out with Marcus was a lot more fun than hanging out with Shayleen had ever been. Marcus and I talked about more than just crushes and fashion. We weren’t afraid to try new things like this together.

When the time was up, I popped open the drainage spout and dumped it down the sink with some running water.

Did we do it right? I looked at Marcus, but his eyes stayed on the instructions. I poured in my tray of stop bath solution.

Few things can kill a romantic moment—or what might have been a romantic moment—like a bad smell. This one smelled like vinegar.

After emptying that solution thirty seconds later, I ran plenty of cold water to try to get rid of the fumes. Then I poured in the final solution and shook gently, trying not to create bubbles.

“Who knows if it’ll work or if it’ll turn out like little black blobs of nothingness? ” I babbled, not knowing if I was nervous about seeing the pictures or about being alone with Marcus, or both. “First time for everything, right? ”

Marcus didn’t respond, and his silence made me feel the need to talk some more.

“I think it’ll work, but even if it doesn’t, we can try again. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not like this cost us anything, and my mom brought home another multipack of film for me the other day so I can try again. ” Even though my confidence was waning by the second, I was still glad to have this new hobby, and I wanted so badly for it to be something I was good at—maybe even good at the first time.

Finally the timer dinged. I drained the solution and took the negatives out, running them under some lukewarm water.

They felt slimy in my hands. In the dim light, I could see that there were actual shapes on each little square. They may not have been perfect, but I’d actually done it properly. We’d done it properly. A grin spread across my face. Marcus grinned back at me.

After hanging the negatives on a string, I put the solutions away while Marcus rinsed the containers. “I think that’s it for today, ” I said. “They’ll take a few hours to dry. ”

Marcus followed me out of the small room, and it wasn’t until we were back in the light of day that he looked at me and uttered his first word in what seemed like forever.

“Coffee? ”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next day in the darkroom was full of experimentation. I took out the enlarger—an overhead projector on steroids—and attempted to make prints. Marcus had all sorts of suggestions for adjusting temperatures and distances, but didn’t talk about anything else. Today he stood farther away, and it looked uncomfortable being squished up against the far wall like that. We weren’t going to be “accidentally” brushing against each other today.

I clipped prints to our drying line, trying not to take his distance personally, and had completely forgotten about the picture of Claire and Josh kissing until Marcus handed it to me.

I sucked in a breath, then opened my mouth to say something, but just blubbered out an “Uh” followed by a few more unintelligible syllables. Marcus met my eyes. I felt like he could see right through me, not only about why I’d taken the picture but also my feelings for Josh. A rush of shame washed over me.

“It’s almost five o’clock, ” sounded suddenly through the door, making me jump in place. It was Mr. Dewdney. I looked both ways, then down at the print I was still holding.

“We’d better clean up, ” Marcus said. He must’ve realized exactly what kind of a person I am and was rethinking the whole friendship, I just knew it.

After an uncomfortably quiet good-bye, I jogged all the way home to work off my anxious energy. When I reached our street, I came to a dead stop, surprised to see Josh’s Civic in the driveway again. I caught my breath, then walked through the front door and slammed it. Sure enough, murmuring and footsteps emanated from the upstairs hallway.

I was halfway up the stairs when Claire’s door opened and Josh whisked by me with his eyebrows pulled together and an angry look on his face. He must’ve been in a hurry, because he was several steps past me when he muttered an “Oh, hey, Loann” back in my direction. I’d barely turned when our front door opened and shut behind him.

Claire was just inside her bedroom door, her hair all mussed. I suppressed an embarrassed smile, as if it had been me doing whatever they had just been doing.

“Oh. ” Claire looked around dazedly. “Is Mom home? ”

I shook my head. Claire backed into her room.

“She’s going to catch you if you keep it up, though, you know. ”

Claire crinkled her brow. “I’m not—I won’t. . . It’s not. . . ” she trailed off, closing her door between us midsentence.

Sheesh. She didn’t need to be so private. Not with me. Okay, I’d been a bitch about Josh being upstairs the other day, but only because of how she’d treated Marcus. Still, we used to tell each other stuff. She told me about her first kiss with Brett Watson in seventh grade. In fact, she’d told me way more than I’d wanted to know, back then.

Things had definitely changed between us lately, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted them to go back. Sure, it would be exciting to hear what was happening with Josh, but I kind of liked that I didn’t feel as hidden in her shadow. I was finding my own source of light. I still hadn’t discovered it completely, but I liked seeing things that other people couldn’t, like how I could envision from the moment I framed an object how a photo would look once it was developed. How I could see beauty where other people couldn’t. I thought, for the first time in my life, that maybe I was the special one.