Perfect Shot (Sweet Valley High Book 55) Page 4

  "Help yourself," Jeffrey said, gesturing toward the pans filled with chemicals. "I'm finished." The darkroom was officially for the Oracle staff, but Mr. Collins occasionally let other students use it as long as they were considerate and neat.

  Elizabeth looked curiously at Jim as he took negative files out of his backpack. "I didn't know you were a photographer, Jim."

  Elizabeth wasn't really friends with Jim, but they had been introduced once or twice. She had always thought that he seemed like a really nice guy.

  "Well, I just like to fool around a little. Nothing serious," Jim answered. "But Mr. Collins saw a photo I did, and he thought it was decent, so he said I could use the darkroom." He looked at the jars of solutions on the shelf. "It's such an expensive hobby. There's no way I could ever afford to develop and print all the rolls of stuff I shoot through a commercial lab."

  "Yeah, I know what you mean," Jeffrey sympathized. Elizabeth watched Jim work with interest.

  "Hey, this is great!" Jeffrey said, leaning over and watching as one of Jim's photographs began to develop in the tray of solution. It was a portrait of an elderly woman bent over a little child, and Jim had done a wonderful job of capturing the woman's personality. Jeffrey shook his head in surprise. "You're a serious photographer. This is really good."

  Jim looked embarrassed. "I just like to fool around," he repeated. "I've never taken real classes or anything. My dad gave me a camera when I was ten, and ever since then, I've been kind of addicted. I shoot several rolls of film a week." He laughed. "Sometimes I feel like I can't see things any other way than through a camera lens."

  Elizabeth stared at the photograph of the old woman. She didn't want to be disloyal to Jeffrey, whose pictures were excellent, but Jim's work seemed to be of an entirely different caliber. "Let's see more," she urged him.

  For the next hour they worked side by side, and all of Jim's photographs proved to be superb. He was an accomplished landscape photographer, but his best pictures were those of people. "Wow," Jeffrey said, looking at a photo of a little girl. "You can really capture someone on film. For me portraits are the hardest pictures to take. But yours just come to life!"

  "I like taking pictures of people best," Jim admitted, lifting his last photo out of the developing solution and shaking it gently. Elizabeth stared at it. It was a shot of a young woman leaping up to sink a basketball into a hoop.

  "This is beautiful," she breathed. "Jim, who is this? She looks familiar."

  Jim blushed. "Oh. That's Shelley Novak," he said. He studied the photograph with interest.

  Elizabeth couldn't get over what an amazing shot it was. "This is fantastic," she enthused. "She looks so graceful—like she's floating on air or something."

  "You should take more pictures of her. She's a really good subject for you," Jeffrey said.

  Jim shook his head. "Nah," he said, lifting the photograph up to dry. "I don't think so."

  Jeffrey looked thoughtfully at the picture of Shelley. "Did Mr. Collins tell you about the photography contest the News is sponsoring?"

  "Yeah, he said something about it." Jim didn't seem thrilled by the idea. "But I'm not really up for something like that. Photography is just something I like to do for myself."

  "You should enter it," Jeffrey said. Elizabeth smiled, thinking how characteristic it was for Jeffrey to encourage Jim to enter, even though it would diminish his own chances of winning.

  "Jeffrey's right," she agreed. "You're really talented, Jim. You should definitely submit something to the News. I think you have a good chance of winning."

  But Jim shook his head. "I don't think so. I just do it for fun—for me. I don't really feel like entering any contest."

  Elizabeth caught Jeffrey's eye. She wondered if he was thinking what she was.

  Jim appeared to be an extremely talented photographer. Why wasn't he more interested in this opportunity to show other people how good he was?

  "I've never been up here before," Shelley said, staring down at the breathtaking view of Sweet Valley from Miller's Point. When Jim had suggested taking a ride after practice on Tuesday, she'd been reluctant at first. But because she had had such a good time with him after the game on Saturday, she changed her mind. Now she was really glad she had.

  "It's like seeing a whole new world," she said, her eyes shining.

  Jim snapped several shots with his Nikon. "I love it up here. One of the coolest things about a camera is the way you can catch things from different angles. That's why I love going to out-of-the-way places." He grinned at her. "My parents always tease me. Whenever we go on trips, I want to climb to the highest place I can find so I can get a panoramic picture." He laughed. "That bugs them. But even worse, I want to time our visits to places so the light's hitting things in a certain way."

  Shelley started to laugh, too. "That would be kind of annoying."

  Jim ducked behind a bush, dropped to one knee, and aimed his camera at her. "Smile!" he cried.

  The smile on Shelley's face disappeared. "Come on, cut it out," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  Jim snapped three pictures in a row. "You're beautiful when you're mad," he teased her.

  But Shelley felt angry, even though she knew he was only being nice. "I mean it, Jim. I don't want my picture taken!"

  "Why?" He lowered the camera and stared at her.

  Shelley shrugged. "Let's just say I have a kind of phobia about it. OK?"

  Jim came closer to her, a concerned look on his face. "Wow, you're really serious about this, aren't you?"

  Shelley nodded. "I can't stand having my picture taken. Please promise me you won't show those pictures to anyone."

  "Sure," Jim said casually, putting the lens cap back on his camera.

  "No—promise. Really promise," she pleaded.

  Jim looked her in the eyes. His expression was so intense that Shelley was afraid he was mad at her. "All right," he said after a long pause. "I promise, Shelley." He put his camera down. "If I knew it bugged you so much, I wouldn't have done it. I was just fooling around."

  Shelley didn't answer. She didn't want Jim to hear how upset she was. Why couldn't she just relax and let him take her picture? she scolded herself. Because I don't photograph well. Because I'm all legs.

  Jim suddenly reached out and touched her face, running his finger along her cheek. She could barely breathe, his touch was so gentle. "But you're so beautiful," he whispered. "Why don't you want to let me capture that beauty on film?"

  Shelley stared at him. No one had ever touched her like that before. Part of her wanted to freeze, to stay absolutely still so he wouldn't stop. But almost despite herself she jerked back. "I can't help it. I'm just shy," she said lamely.

  Jim didn't say anything, and after a minute or two they walked back to his Camaro, each knowing it was time to head home. Shelley kept quiet all the way there.

  She couldn't stop thinking about Jim's touch. Every minute or two she sneaked a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't one bit like Greg, and to be honest, she never would have thought of him romantically. He was a funny guy, alternately lighthearted and intense. But she really liked Jim. They had fun together, and it felt easy and natural to spend time with him.

  "I want to see you again," he said when they reached her house. "Will you let me take you out later this week? Maybe we could go to a movie or something on Friday night."

  Shelley nodded, still afraid to speak and reveal her feelings.

  She was sure she liked Jim, a lot, and she thought he liked her, too. The question was, how did they like each other? Were they just friends, or was something else going on between them?

  "I just can't tell," Shelley told Cathy the next day at lunch. "I think he's amazingly nice, and I feel like I can tell him anything. He's so easy to talk to. But I just don't think he's . . . you know . . ."

  "What?" Cathy asked with a smile. "He's not Greg Hilliard."

  "No, that isn't what I meant," Shelley said quickly. In f
act, what Cathy had said wasn't far from the truth.

  But Shelley really didn't want to talk about her pathetic love life at the moment. "Look, there's no use comparing the two of them, because I'm sure Jim isn't interested in me that way, anyway," she said hastily. "He just wants to be friends."

  "Well, I have to go look up some stuff in the library," Cathy said, crumpling her lunch bag into a ball. "Want to come, or are you going to stay here?"

  Shelley had just caught sight of Jim on the other side of the cafeteria, his camera with him, as always. "I'm going to go say hi to Jim," she said lightly.

  "Uh-huh," Cathy said knowingly.

  Shelley ignored her, stood up, and crossed the crowded dining hall toward Jim. "Hey," she said, pulling up a chair.

  Jim's face lit up when he saw her. "Shelley, hi! I was just thinking about you."

  Shelley's stomach did a flip-flop. It was nice to have someone look so happy to see her.

  "I printed those pictures I took of you yesterday. Shel, you should see them. You look absolutely amazing. I swear you could be a model. You look so graceful."

  Shelley frowned. Why did he have to ruin everything by reminding her about those pictures he'd taken? "I told you," she said abruptly, "I can't stand being photographed." She tried not to look at his camera lying on the table between them.

  "Won't you even look at these?" Jim asked. "Honestly, Shelley, if you see how beautiful you look in them, I know you'll change your mind."

  "I'd love to look at your pictures—as long they're not of me," she said firmly. Then she looked anxiously at him. "You haven't shown them to anyone else, have you? Remember, you promised not to."

  "I remember," Jim said quietly. He covered her hand with his on the table. "Don't worry, Shel. I promise I won't mention them again. And I won't take any more pictures of you, either."

  Shelley could tell he meant it. And for that minute, with his hand on hers, she had a glimpse of what it felt like to trust somebody. She could barely bring herself to lift her eyes and look at him.

  She knew Jim Roberts would never hurt her. It was a brand-new feeling for Shelley, and one she wanted to savor. She was just afraid that if she looked at him, he'd be able to tell what she was feeling.

  Shelley wasn't ready for that yet. Not quite. But it was still something to realize that she trusted him. And that she liked him, definitely liked him, and not just as a friend, either!

  Six

  "I can't wait till this afternoon," Jessica whispered to Amy in chemistry lab. "I know I'm going to get Patrick to dance with me. I just know it."

  Amy's brow wrinkled as she attempted to concentrate on the experiment they were doing. "I can't stand science," she muttered. She gave Jessica a despairing look. "Can't you stop talking about Patrick and help me do whatever we're supposed to be doing?"

  Jessica ignored her. "You're just jealous because you realize that Patrick really has the hots for me and not you."

  "Right," Amy snapped. "He's so crazy about you, and that's why he asked Too-Tall Novak to be his dance partner last week."

  "That was nothing," Jessica retorted. "She was just nearer the front of the room, that's all. You blew it when you asked him for pointers on the box step, and you know it. Don't you care that you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone?"

  Amy raised her eyebrows. "For your information, I wasn't the one who made a fool of myself. You were the one who had to horn in on us and—"

  "Girls," Mr. Russo, their science teacher, said reprovingly. He came over to the table. "You know, neither of you can afford to fall behind on this project. Am I going to have to ask you two to start coming in on your lunch hours to work, or can I count on you to be serious during lab?"

  "You can count on us to be serious, Mr. Russo," Amy said, using the sickeningly sweet voice she reserved for teachers.

  Jessica waited until Mr. Russo had returned to his desk before speaking. "Just wait till the next dance class," she whispered. "You'll see."

  "No, you'll see—me in Patrick's arms," Amy hissed.

  But Jessica just smiled blithely as she opened her lab book and made a notation. "Jealous, jealous, jealous," she murmured.

  Already news had spread through the school that the ballroom dance lessons in the gym were being taught by one of the sexiest men anyone had ever seen. Jessica had hoped people would keep quiet about it, since the last thing she wanted was for a whole crowd of girls to come between her and Patrick. But by four o'clock more than fifty girls had made their way into the gym to get a look at him.

  Even Lila Fowler, the richest girl in the whole school, had decided it might be worth brushing up on her waltzing skills—if Patrick McLean was that handsome.

  "Wow!" Patrick exclaimed, looking at the crowd with a big smile. "What happened? How come ballroom dancing got so popular around here all of a sudden?"

  Lila, standing between Amy and Jessica, seemed impressed. "You guys are right," she conceded. "He's absolutely gorgeous!"

  She spoke louder than she had intended, and everyone heard her, including Patrick.

  "Way to go, Lila," Jessica said with a giggle.

  Amy looked mortified. "You two are so immature," she said, stepping away so it didn't look as if she were with them.

  Patrick was smiling at Lila and Jessica, probably trying to figure out who had spoken. Jessica felt her face turn red. Did he think she had said it? She was getting ready to run from the room to spare herself further humiliation when Patrick said, "You, in the blue shirt. How would you like to let me try the tango out on you?"

  Jessica could hardly believe her luck. "See?" she said to Amy as she flounced past her to the front of the room. "I told you so!"

  From now on, she thought, blue was going to be her lucky color. And the tango was going to be their dance—hers and Patrick's. When they'd been married for years, they could tell their children about it.

  "Now listen up, everybody," Patrick said. "This isn't an easy dance. Do you all remember the box step I showed you last time?"

  The handful of people who'd been at last Wednesday's lesson cried, "Yes!" But Jessica couldn't remember anything about it. Not when she was standing this close to Patrick, who was wearing an after-shave lotion that she found incredibly sexy.

  "Now, watch where I put my hand on—" He looked down at Jessica. "What's your name?"

  Jessica practically melted. "Jessica," she breathed.

  "OK. Watch where I put my hand on Jessica's back." He pivoted Jessica, his hand on the small of her back. Jessica was in complete heaven. She tried to catch Amy's eye so she could show her how deliriously happy she was.

  But as soon as the tango music started, Jessica's happiness disappeared. Patrick was moving her this way and that so fast, she had no idea what was happening. Instead of gliding across the floor in his arms, she was stepping all over his feet. "Sorry," she muttered every time it happened.

  "Just relax," Patrick gasped, pushing her backward and pulling her forward. "Just—go—with —the—music!"

  Jessica's hands were sweaty, and her face was hot. This was awful. If this was what she was going to have to go through to dance with Patrick, maybe she wasn't quite ready for him yet.

  But there was no point showing anyone else how she felt. When Amy and Lila pumped her for information later, Jessica made it sound like the best five minutes of her entire life. "He's so wonderful to hold," she said languidly. "I could've danced forever."

  "Yeah?" Amy said skeptically. "How come it looked like you two were kicking each other the whole time?"

  Jessica rolled her eyes at her friend. "Amy, you don't understand anything. That happens to be the way the tango is done," she snapped.

  She couldn't wait to get out of there. All of a sudden she had a sinking feeling that ballroom dancing might not be her thing after all.

  At Thursday's game Shelley was sure she had never played basketball so well in her entire life. She felt as if she were running on air, and she obviously wasn't the only one feel
ing so light-footed. Somehow the team had gotten their old magic back, and by halftime they were leading Emerson 62–38. Coach Tilman couldn't believe it. "You guys are amazing!" he cried, throwing his arm around Shelley's shoulders. "And you—I can't get over the way you're playing. You're turning into some kind of shooting machine out there." His eyes were glowing, but Shelley thought he looked a little concerned, too. "Just promise me you won't burn out. We need you to hang on to some reserve strength. This looks like it may be a long series."

  Shelley barely heard him. She was in her own private world. There were only two things she was aware of: the basketball game and Jim Roberts. Jim, whom she could see on the sidelines, was cheering her on with every step. Every cheer from him seemed to give her a strength and grace she had never known before.

  "Whatever you're doing, just keep it up," Cathy told her.

  Shelley grinned. "I think maybe I will," she said. The whistle blew then, and they ran out to finish the game—an easy victory at 86–64.

  Jim was waiting for her afterward. "Promise you'll let me take you out to celebrate," he begged.

  Shelley's eyes were shining. "Oh, all right. I'll let you." She grinned. She couldn't believe how good it was to see him and how great it felt when he slipped his arm around her.

  That evening ended up being one of the most wonderful Shelley had ever spent. Jim took her out for a victory pizza, and then they drove down to the beach to look at the moon. "I can't get over how gorgeous you looked out there," Jim said, taking her hand in his.

  Shelley took a deep breath. Here they were, just the two of them, with the moonlight shimmering on the ocean. Nobody else was in sight. It felt funny to be walking so close to Jim, their shoulders brushing. They both slipped out of their shoes so they could walk in the water, and Shelley had the urge to pinch herself to prove this was really happening.

  "You know, you're not like any girl I've ever met before," Jim said seriously. "It's like—well, this is kind of hard to explain. But you're so easy to be with. You don't play games like a lot of girls do. You don't seem obsessed with makeup or flirting or any of that stuff. You just seem totally natural." His voice was husky. "At first I just wanted to get to know you because I loved watching you play basketball. And because you seemed different to me. More yourself than so many girls are." His voice caught. "But, Shel—"