Page 12 of Mr. Picture Perfect
“No. It was real. Like Tamika said. I … I could’ve been crushed for real.”
“It’s the same story whether it’s real or not. They’ll love the publicity, I’m sure of it. Maybe it’ll get them business, win-win. Hey, maybe we can get them to donate some picture frames to the building. It’ll be a follow-up story. A redemption arc for their … hmm … ‘negligent festival mishap’, we’ll call it.”
“It was apparently a few kids running around that caused it,” points out Tamika.
“Some kids … wind … an act of God. There’s probably a dozen different stories floatin’ around out there for how it happened, even from the eye witnesses themselves. Best part of our job isweget to decide which one they believe.” He pats me on the back so forcefully, I nearly spill my water. “I’m gonna go have a chat with my dad. We’re gonna have onehellof a paper, I can already feel it. Tamika, look around to see if anyone got some shots of the—”
“Already have them,” she says mildly, wiggling her phone.
“Great! And find some filler for the rest of the paper if you can, too. My bud Harrison brought some weird-lookin’ chairs and furniture stuff he’s selling near the church. I’d love to give his new business some publicity.” He pats the table, then starts to head off.
I fidget, then lift my head with a sudden thought. “Do you know if Cole’s okay?”
Burton stops. “Who?”
“Cole. That’s his name, the guy who saved me. Cole Harding. We … We went to school together. He was in my graduating class.”
“Oh. You knew each other?”
I avert my eyes. “Well … not really.”
He thinks on it, then shrugs. “No idea. Didn’t think to ask. I’m sure he’s fine. He was taken to the clinic, last I heard, probably bein’ looked at, gettin’ his arm bandaged up. Wished I was here to see it all,” he confesses suddenly.
Tamika lifts an eyebrow. “Where were you anyway?”
A flicker of defiance crosses Burton’s face at being questioned. Then he thinks the better of it. “I was just … out. On a business thing. A business lunch thing.”
He’s a bad liar. I know it. Tamika knows it. But we stay quiet.
“Happened to see Cindy there,” he then adds, half to himself. “She didn’t seem to notice me at all. That’smystory … story of my life. Heh. Anyway, thanks, both of you. Good boy.” He gives me a vigorous pat on my head like I’m his puppy he’s proud of. “You did well today. Oh, a call,” he exclaims as he pries his phone out of his tight jeans pocket. “It’s my dad. Gonna see if he’s caught wind of this yet.Damn, today’s a good day. Hey, Dad?” He saunters off, phone against his ear. “Oh, yeah, you bet I got you a story …”
I watch him take off, trapped in my semi-permanent daze. At least it’s apparently safe to say I’m no longer in danger of losing my job; I’ve upgraded to being Burton’s pride and joy now.
An unintended genius who solved his problem.
But I feel like I created many other ones. What if the kid only hit the frames because I was standing in the way trying to get a good shot? Maybe the kid was forced to run around me. And what if I had chosen to stand just a few feet more to the side? I wouldn’t have been in the path of the falling frames. Cole wouldn’t have had to charge across the road. Because of that, he injured himself.
I feel more guilty about everything than I do relieved.
“You take care of yourself, Noah,” says Mrs. Tucker when we make our way out of the diner. “Don’t eventhinkabout standing next to any picture frame, even one hanging up on a wall, alright? Now skidoo!” She swats playfully at me with a rag, then winks. I thank her again for the water and much-needed respite.
Before we part ways near the park, Tamika says, “Y’know, if it bothers you, maybe just think about all the people who’ll read the story and feel a rush of hope and relief that you’re safe. You’ll be putting smiles on so many faces, Noah! Can you imagine? You’re like the happy ending no one realized they needed today.”
I know she’s trying to help. But the thought of having all that attention on me, all that pressure, all that spotlight, I might as well be right back on that high school stage again, humiliating myself in front of Mrs. Joy and the theatre department. Except it won’t just be a high school auditorium; it’ll be the whole town.
“Oh. Are you okay?” she asks. “You’re breathing funny.”
My eyes flick to hers. “I am?”
“Yeah. Like you’re hyperventilating, only … in a weird way.” She winces. “Did I say something wrong?”
I relax my body, deflating like a balloon, and lean against the park bench next to me. “I’m not sure about anything right now.”
“I can help you write the article,” she offers. “Though, to be honest, I think that’s whereyouexcel. At the computer with your photos and your words. You’re a great storyteller, Noah.”
I look at her. “I am?”
“You just gotta believe in yourself some more. Keep that big, brilliant mind of yours open to possibilities. Hey, what if this story causes your career to take off?” She gasps, a hand to her mouth. “Imagine what everyone will say! They will all want to know more about the amazing Noah Reed and your brave hero Cole …”
