Coddiwomple - S.E. Harmon Page 0,89

implanted in their little bodies. “Don’t look at the sun, kid.”

The always curious Otto lifted his hand. “Power lines?”

“Knock yourself out.” I handed him a camera. “If it’s in the air, it meets the criteria.”

“Unicorns!” Livy shouted.

I chuckled. “If he’s airborne, then yeah, he qualifies, too.”

I watched them scurry off with a small smile. All right, fine, so maybe I was enjoying myself a teeny-tiny bit. That was a surprise, since I’d been soured on teaching at a young age. Coaxed into service in middle school by my aunt, my first customer had been my cousin Tyler. Tyler hadn’t been the best student on a good day, and being taught by your younger, know-it-all cousin was not a good day. Several of our sessions ended with us locked in combat, rolling on the floor.

Once, he’d even ended our lessons abruptly by stuffing me into a garbage can. I remember being grateful that it had been freshly dumped, right before he slammed on the lid. He sat on top of it for a while, drumming his heels against the sides. That led to another lesson on how to project your apology outside of a garbage can, so your cousin will have mercy and let you out. Apparently the words “it’s not my fault you’re a dumbass” should not be incorporated into that apology.

Anyhoo, being crammed in a garbage can like Oscar the Grouch did not improve my impression of teaching. Molding young minds required a certain level of patience I didn’t possess, and a certain level of enthusiasm I found hard to maintain. But I was working for free and doing the parents of Coral Cove a fucking favor, so they would just have to deal.

I let the kids do their thing, milling about and making sure no one got lost. Head counting was my newest favorite activity. At the forty-five-minute mark, I whistled to bring them back in. They came back in ones and twos, sweaty and excited and loud as fuck. I started collecting the cameras, some of which were dirty for no reason at all.

“It’s my turn to hold Snickers,” Julia screamed, also for no reason at all.

I rubbed my ear with a wince. That kid had a primo set of pipes. “Holy sh—sugar, Jules. Go ahead.” She clapped her hands excitedly and kneeled like I’d shown them before to pick up a wide-eyed Snickers. “Be gentle, though.”

“This was lame,” Gregory said as he held out his camera.

There was one in every crowd. “Duly noted.” I put his camara in my bag and moved on to the next.

Camila, otherwise known as the teacher’s pet, shot him a sizzling glare. “It was not lame. I had fun.”

“See, Gregory? Camila has the right idea,” I said mildly. “Life is what you make of it.”

“It’s not Africa,” he groused. “Or Japan. Or any of the other cool places you’ve been.”

I remembered how impressed he’d been our first class, looking through a portfolio of some of my favorite shots. “Everything doesn’t have to be an exotic location,” I reminded him. “Every picture can’t be of the Big Five.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “The big what?”

I clucked my tongue in impatience. “Haven’t you ever seen the squirrel series? Or the rats fighting in the subway?” I collected the last camera and zipped up my backpack. “Photography is about finding beauty in unusual places.”

I did a quick headcount, already expecting seven. Six. I frowned as I did it again to the same results. I waited a moment, my heart thumping an uncomfortable tattoo in my ears. I sent up a quick prayer that I’d forgotten how to count to seven and did it again. Still six.

“Uncle JJ!”

I whipped around to see Olivia running across the field, a piece of paper flapping in her hand. “Oh, thank fu—dge,” I said, aborting my well-earned curse as I remembered all the little ears listening. I rubbed my chest, my heart rate still a bit fast. Yeah, this was so the last field trip we were ever going on.

By the time she reached me, I was able to speak calmly. “Livy, you’ve got to stay with the group.”

“But Uncle JJ, you gotta see this!” Her big blue eyes were distressed as she shoved a flyer up at me. “Just look!”

I frowned as I took the flyer and found myself face-to-face with a picture of Snickers. My Snickers. She was wearing a plaid harness and sitting on some kid’s lap, but yes, that was my Snickers. Or Raisin, apparently,