I HAVE ONE freaking hour left to finish my photography assignment by the time I make it to the river. What are we even supposed to be taking pictures of out here? National Geographic’s website did not prepare me for this. Unless a sea otter miraculously makes its way upstream and strikes a pose for me, I’m completely screwed. The river is already suffering from the recent lack of rain, and I halfheartedly take a few pictures of the lazy stream. A few yards up the bank, I spot a coiled black snake sunning itself. It doesn’t seem particularly photogenic, so I keep my distance. Some of my classmates catch up to my spot. Gwen scans the area and lies flat on her stomach at the edge of the stream. Declan is across the water from her. He lowers his camera, standing with one hand in his front pocket and the other cupping the lens. The sun hits him at just the right angle to show the lightness in his hair, and I can’t resist taking a quick snapshot of his profile. Five days have passed since we climbed up the water tower together, and aside from a brief and stilted conversation before Monday’s photography class, we haven’t spoken since.
