Her Mysterious Ways

Chapter 7: What Kind of Story is That?

After the encounter with Andy, I sprinted home. I quickly made supper, finally got Gracie to do her homework, gathered my stuff, said goodbye, then sprinted to the market. If I wouldn't have made money that day, we would've been hungry for at least a week, and we couldn't have that.
*
Once I had all of my pictures set up, a lady came over and started looking at some of my pictures. The whole time she had a skeptical look on her face. Then she started talking...

"So you're an artist, right?" She snapped at me.
"Well, I you want you can call me that. I don't really have a title." I replied nicely.
"Well then if you're an artist, every picture has a story, right?" She snapped again.
"Yes ma'am. Every picture has it's own story." I nodded and smiled.
"What about this one?" She picked up a canvas that had a picture of rail road tracks in the middle of nowhere. That was one of my favourite pictures that I had ever taken. There were trees surrounding the railroad tracks and fog hanging among the treetops like ornaments.
"That's one of my personal favourites. It's sending the message that even in the darkest or loneliest of times, you can always just go." The black and white ink on the canvas always told a story. A beautiful story that everyone interprets differently.
"What kind of story is that?" She almost yelled. She was not a nice lady.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" I countered, m eyes wide. I swear that there was steam coming out of my ears. I poured my soul into each and every picture. She had no right to say that.
"Well it's just that I have a better story." She shot back.
"May I ask what it is?"
"No." was all she said. Then she left. She just walked away. I hates farmers market people like that.

After, I sold enough pictures to get us through the week, which was really good considering I had another farmers market to get to later in that week. It was a good day, minis that bag lady thy I never wanted to see again. I'm sure I wouldn't see her again, but if I did, I would be sure to tell her that I sold that photograph.

And then it was time to go home. I was ready to go home. Farmers markets were fun, but they were really boring. I couldn't bring any of my friends because I couldn't let them find out that I had to support my family or that I worked at a farmers market! I couldn't even tell them that a was into photography it god sakes! My life was based off of what they saw me as, and as soon as that broke, I wouldn't have anything left. No friends, no popularity, no sports... just my broken family, which would suck. I just couldn't have it, so my friends rarely ever saw me outside of school besides football practice.
*
*
When I walked through the door, the first thing I saw was Gracie actually reading to my grandma. Gracie was mostly a pain in the ass, but she was still cute. I had to give her that. With her red hair an freckles that were so carefully sprinkled across her pale face just completed the illusion that she was an angel. Notice how I said illusion. Anyways, she looked exactly like my mother, which was both relieving and sad.

"Hi Cole!" She sprung up and hugged me. She usually did this when I came home, but I never understood why.
"Hey Gracie. I see that you were reading?" I almost gave a devilish smile in spite of my victory, but I didn't.
She pulled away and said, "Don't mention it." With a not very nice tune of voice before hugging me again. I hugged her back, glad to still have my sister.
"But I just did!" I teased and saw her look of disgust, trying so hard to suppress a smile. Then she smiled anyway. A big, no front teeth smile that could light up any dark room. It was good to see her smile.

So as promised, I played school with Gracie and then cooked dinner. It was a quiet night, with no disruptions or people coming to our door and asking for money that we never had. It was good. I liked quiet... most of the time.