The Tension of Opposites Read Online Free PDF Page A

being pulled under. If I allowed myself, I might sit here for the rest of my life, breathing him in.
    Max propped his elbows on his knees and crossed his forearms over his legs. “Try me.”
    My hands started shaking, so I clasped them together. All those words were still shouting through my head, jumbling everything so that nothing made any sense. Least of all my desire to reach out and rub my thumb along Max’s smooth lips. “I’m not even finished,” I said.
    Max stared at me, his smile pulling inward a bit. “Better get to it, then.”
    I ducked my head toward my notebook, scratching my pen across the paper several inches from my eyes. Max leaned back into his seat. He swung his knees lazily in the aisle. Darcy flipped and flopped her sandal. She popped another bubble of her gum.
    Finally, I wrote the three words represented by Noelle, thinking about how she and the idea of freedom opposed each other.
    Captive
    Prisoner
    Hostage
    Mr. Hollon finished his round through the desks and parked himself in front of the classroom, blocking my view of his prizewinning close-up of a praying mantis. “Anyone care to share?”
    Max raised his hand.
    Mr. Hollon’s eyes scrunched closed. “Mr…. Kinsley, right?”
    â€œYeah.” Max nodded. “I immediately pictured myself in the backseat of my parents’ car.” Several people laughed. “I was their prisoner as we drove from Montana to Ohio, away from all my friends and family, miserable about spending my junior and senior years with a bunch of strangers.”
    As Max spoke this long string of words, I was surprised to remember that his voice was velvety soft. Somehow my memory of the previous Friday in the woods had been distorted, the sound of his voice turning more abrasive with each passing day. I had expected his words to be gruff and crackly—scratchy to my ears, the way the stubble on his face would feel against my hand.
    Mr. Hollon moved on, allowing several other people to share, and I tried to catch another glance of Max without being obvious. It didn’t work. When he caught me looking, his face broke out into another one of those smiles from the woods. A smile that I found myself starting to like. Maybe a little too much. Just before I looked away, a few loose curls dipped forward onto his forehead, and he swiped them back with his hand.
    â€œSo there we have it. Your portfolio theme is the Tension of Opposites. We will learn many different techniques during the first three quarters of the year, and by the end of March, you will put together a portfolio demonstrating your mastery of each lesson. Fourth quarter will be an intensive on style. We’ll talk about that later.”
    Everyone got quiet. I glanced at Max’s brown leather shoes. He was tapping his foot, and I wondered what kind of music he liked. Then I squeezed my eyes shut. Since when did I care anything about a random guy sitting next to me?
    â€œWhat about the Tension of Opposites?” Darcy asked.
    â€œIn addition to fulfilling a variety of requirements, while also taking the best pictures you can take, you’ll infuse your work with emotion by showing the opposition that is evident in every aspect of life.” Mr. Hollon looked around the room. “Put plainly, each photograph in your portfolio must have an opposing image.”
    I thought that maybe my first photograph could be of Max. The next, a self-portrait. He was so confident. And I was so … not.
    â€œI know a few of you prefer to use thirty-five-millimeter cameras. I expect you to find some way to incorporate a digital trick or two into your final project. And I might suggest that you hoard all the film you can get your hands on. It’s going out of style. Fast,” Mr. Hollon said as he passed out the classroom rules and syllabus for the first quarter. “For the remainder of the period, I’d like for you to make a list of all the