Look - Zan Romanoff Page 0,79
for me, up close, it was hard to watch.”
“I’m sorry,” Lulu says. This time she doesn’t explain for what. She’s sorry for whatever’s making Bea look at her like that—like she’s afraid of Lulu, or for her. “And thanks for sticking around anyway,” she adds. “It means a lot to me.”
“Thanks for letting me.”
It occurs to Lulu that maybe Bea has been just as scared to be there for Lulu—no questions asked, no rules, just there—as Lulu is to let herself be loved when she doesn’t understand why anyone would want to.
Bea nudges Lulu with the point of her elbow. “I mean, someone’s got to keep an eye on you,” she says. “And usually I’m good at it, so I figure, you know. Might as well be me.”
CHAPTER FORTY
BEA DRIVES THEM both to school in the morning. Lulu is wearing a short black dress her mother gave her for Hanukkah with a quilted black bomber jacket, black tights, and black boots. The sun is so bright when she walks down the driveway that she has to put her sunglasses on.
“Jesus, Lu, that’s a statement,” Bea says when she gets into the car.
“It’s just black.”
“You look like you’re going to a high-class funeral.”
“Yeah well,” Lulu agrees. “My own.”
* * *
The first two periods pass uneventfully; Lulu gets her midterms back and can barely remember taking them. Her grades are fine. Of course they are. You always look fine, Bea had said, and it’s true.
She’s ready to spend her third period free hiding out in the library, but just as history ends someone knocks on the door with a note for her. It’s from Mr. Winters; he wants her to come by his office for a chat. Lulu considers not going, but she has Cinema Studies later today, so she’s going to have to see him soon anyway. Better to just get it over with.
* * *
“I haven’t listened to it yet,” Lulu lies. “Beauty, Power, Danger—I haven’t had time.” She’s hoping against hope that that’s all this meeting is about—that he wants to follow up with her and tell her more about how he knows the Riggs family, and Christine L. Thompson, and whoever else.
Mr. Winters dashes her hopes, waving them away with a hand. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says. “Though I would especially recommend checking it out now, given what you were up to over the break. Sit down.”
“What I was up to?”
“Ryan’s parents told me about the opening,” Mr. Winters says. “To clarify. I’m not the kind of teacher who goes looking my students up online or anything. I mean, I’d hope you know that, but can’t be too careful, I guess.”
“Have you seen the pictures?”
“I think a lot of people have,” Mr. Winters says. He squints at Lulu. “Is that a problem?”
“No.”
“Are you—”
“I said no.”
“Okay!” Mr. Winters holds up his hands, like he didn’t mean to start anything. As if he weren’t the one who brought this up. “Because I just wanted to say that I think they’re beautiful. Ryan’s so talented, but in particular, the pictures of you I thought were just fantastic. Really raw and brave, Lulu. Roman—Ryan’s father—suggested I take a look at some of your previous work, to give some context to—”
“What previous—”
“Your Flash posts,” Mr. Winters says. “He sent me a link to an archive, and I only glanced through a few, but I really thought that the images represented a huge step forward for you, in terms of achieving naturalism, and more effectively blurring the lines between life and art. The Flashes were so composed, largely. Whereas there’s—I already said raw, didn’t I? But there is. There’s just something so real about what happens when you put down the camera and let someone else capture you. Are you interested in modeling at all? Because I think you have some real talent, and I’d be happy to introduce you to my contacts. Such as they are, of course.”
Lulu is totally, utterly stunned. She finds herself at a complete loss for words.
“I don’t want to model,” she says eventually.
“I don’t mean to suggest you don’t have a future in photography, being on the creative side,” Mr. Winters says, too fast, like he’s worried he’s offended her. “I just know Ryan was the driving creative force behind this project, behind the camera, so I assumed, but I certainly don’t think that’s all you can—all you’re capable of—”
“I’m not sure what I want to do yet,” Lulu says.
“Well, that’s fine too, of course. And truly, if