The Photographer Read Online Free PDF Page A

doesn’t, will you cut out of lunch early and go with me to his house? I called there and got no answer.”
    â€œHe’s probably in his darkroom. I think he lives there.”
    By noon there was still no Derrick and no photos. Megan and Robert left before the lunch hour was over, but she knew she’d still be late for history class. Megan didn’t mind. Living today was more interesting than studying the past. Especially being with Robert. He didn’t seem angry at her and had probably forgotten her sharpness. In case he hadn’t, she apologized.
    â€œRobert, I’m sorry about being so negative the other morning about the psychic. It’s just a hang-up that I have about that kind of thing.”
    â€œNo problem. I interviewed her and she seemed like a perfectly normal person.”
    Megan laughed. “She didn’t tell you a mysterious redheaded woman might enter your life?” She dared to flirt.
    â€œNo, but sounds like a good idea. Will you go to the Homecoming Dance with me, Megan? We’ll need to take pictures, but we might sneak in a dance or two.”
    â€œAll play and no work.” Megan teased to hide her excitement.
    â€œMakes for no newspaper and the end of our reputation for the best school paper west of the Mississippi. I’ll risk it.” Robert laughed.
    â€œMe too. I’d love to go.”
    Robert’s Camaro was a welcome change from Derrick’s van. It was metallic blue and hummed like the well-cared-for machine that it was. Robert had bought the car himself and fixed it up. He smiled at Megan. She felt a slight stirring in the pit of her stomach that hadn’t been there before when she looked at him.
    At the beginning of the school year Derrick had moved into a rambling, two-story Spanish-style house two blocks from Megan’s. It spoke of money with its cultivated yard and patio. There was a wrought-iron sculpture on the patio area, abstract, expensive, strange-looking.
    â€œSome people’s idea of art is far from mine,” Robert joked.
    â€œDerrick’s mother’s, to be exact. There are more of the same style inside. Some are marble.” Megan had only been inside Derrick’s house once, when the neighbors had surprised the Ameses with a welcoming party. During that visit Derrick had shown Megan the darkroom he’d built in his bedroom. It was the best one Megan had ever been in. Even so, the house was a cold, unwelcoming place.
    Mrs. Ames answered the door. She was a heavyset woman with pampered hands and stylish hair, overdressed for a Thursday afternoon. Megan thought she had probably been beautiful once, but she looked used-up now.
    â€œYour phone may be out of order, Mrs. Ames,” Robert said. “I tried to call several times. Is Derrick home?”
    â€œI was playing bridge. Just got home. Derrick has a cold, and I made him stay home.” Mrs. Ames smiled. Megan found her sticky-sweet personality hard to take. She was divorced, and she and Derrick lived alone. And the rumor around the development was that she had a drinking problem. Megan suspected that Mrs. Ames spoiled Derrick terribly, and she also seemed to treat him like a baby. “You know his health is delicate.” She didn’t invite Megan and Robert in. They stood awkwardly on the porch.
    Robert was getting impatient. “He has some pictures we need for the newspaper, Mrs. Ames. Would you call him?”
    â€œHe doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s in his darkroom. He spends far too much time in there.”
    â€œCan we go up to his room?” Megan suggested.
    â€œOh no. I’ll go up there. He might need something by now anyway.” Mrs. Ames motioned for Robert and Megan to come in and headed upstairs—somewhat reluctantly, it seemed to Megan. In fact, she detected a hint of fear in Mrs. Ames’s voice and manner. Was Derrick nasty when his mother disturbed him?
    As they waited Megan began to