THE PHOTO TRAVELER (THE PHOTO TRAVELER SERIES - BOOK 1)

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next day at school, I literally drag myself through day. My nose is stuffy and I could swear I’m running a fever.

            I skip lunch and spend the hour trying to fit in a nap out near the track. I find a tall Willow Oak tree at the far end of the athletic field and lie down comfortably in its shade. Moments later, I doze off into disjointed dreams about Elizabeth and my parents, but mostly, for some reason, about Martin—his innocence, his lost brown eyes, his tiny, frigid fingers. Maybe he reminds me of myself, that we’ve both been victims of a terrible life. I feel so guilty for having left him behind, but there was no other option. If I was going to follow the rules, anyway. At least he ended up back with his parents, so maybe he is better off than I was at that age.

            I dream different heroic scenarios, like passing out bags of cash to the people waiting in block-long lines for food and jobs. Or actually bringing Martin back with me. I can’t help but wonder what sort of father I’d be. Maybe that’s why Martin struck such a chord with me. Could it be that I want the chance to show a child of my own what a family can really be? I can’t imagine what it would be like, but something in me seems to want it.

            I’m awakened by the chirping of birds in the branches above me and by a ray of sunlight that has reached my eyes. I wipe my forehead—I’m still feeling feverish—and pull out a bag from my book bag. I take a giant bite of Estelle’s salami-and-turkey sandwich and watch the students playing basketball in the distant courts. I actually like playing basketball. Maybe I should join in on a game, make some new friends. But not today. My body’s just not up to any unnecessary physical activity. So I sit out the fifteen minutes left until the bell rings, then head off to Mr. Perry’s class.

            We spend the session with our team partners discussing our projects. Mario and I decide to stick with his initial idea of linking all the photos we’ve taken of the minerals and gems into a huge necklace. We agree that the idea is genius, high-five each other, and agree to work on it after class over at his house.

            When we meet up at the parking lot at the end of the day, he leads me over to a brand-new blue Ford Mustang.

            “Not bad, huh?” he grins. “I bought it a few months back.” He slides his hand over the hood, then hurdles over the door and into the driver’s seat.

            “Wait… you bought this yourself? How? Where do you work? You run a prostitution ring or something I don’t know about?” I ask jokingly.

            “Ha-ha, funny man!” He chuckles, goes silent for a few moments and adds, “I don’t talk about it too much, but my parents were killed by a drunk driver the New Year’s Eve before I moved up here. They left me behind some money to take care of myself… and…well, I decided to buy this car.”

            “Oh, man! I’m sorry, man! I didn’t mean—”

            “Don’t worry about it, Gav!” he interrupts me. “It’s done, you know? There are some things you just can’t control. It’s cool. Really.”

            He shrugs as he lowers the window and blasts the radio. We drive in style to his home. I guess this is what the cool kids feel like. I don’t press the topic. I just let my arm dangle over the rolled down window and enjoy the feeling of the fast beating wind. I close my eyes and listen to the lyrics of the blaring music. What a great feeling.

            After about a fifteen-minute drive, I’m astonished when he pulls up in front of a massive, two-story light-gray Colonial home with a three-car garage.  It’s got to sit on at least an acre and a half, and is perfectly landscaped. “Dude, you live here?”