Saving BlackHell Town - A Life is Strange Fanfiction (Pricefield)

Episode 1: Chrysalis

I look over at Max, my seatmate, feeling envy. She is sleeping through Jefferson's lecture. Our teacher is a famous photographer, but not an interesting teacher. Max looks up to him, I know, which makes it unusual that she is not enraptured by his lecture, taking copious notes, and ignoring me as usual. Yes, I am a 'distraction'.

Max suddenly bolts awake.

"Are you alright?" I ask. I expect her to ignore me, but I may as well show concern, as any good seatmate would.

"What? Oh, yeah," Max replies vaguely. I feel like I have gotten a brush-off answer, but I leave it alone. I barely know her, anyway.

Randomly, I decide to tune into Jefferson's lecture.

"Alfred Hitchcock famously called film 'little pieces of time'," Jefferson is saying, "but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was. These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro..." Victoria's phone rings. Jefferson ignores it and continues. "Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human..."

I tune out again. Boring. I do notice that Victoria volunteers an answer to some question Jefferson asks, but that is normal. Victoria enjoys sucking up to out art teacher. I am fairly sure she fancies him, but that is none of my business.

I suddenly hear the click of a Polaroid camera beside me. Max, of course.

"Shh, I believe Max has taken what you kids call a 'selfie'," Jefferson comments. I mentally take offense that he considers us seniors 'kids'. "A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max... has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800s. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression." I cringe. "Sorry," Jefferson apologizes charmingly. "I couldn't resist. The point remains that portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?"

Max does not know the answer.

"Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?" Jefferson demands.

Classically, Victoria does. "Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created 'daguerreotypes,' a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror." I cringe at her mispronunciation of the name 'Louis.' In French, the s would be silent, yet Victoria pronounced it. I guess even she is not perfect, no matter how hard she tries. Victoria turns to Max and adds, "Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad face."

We all know Victoria is not such a nice person. The only Vortex Club attendee – not member, but almost – who was a nice person was Rachel Amber, who was a friend of mine once, but some drama got between us. She has been missing for a while, and I doubt that she is in Los Angeles as she once intended.

The bell rings.

"And guys don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the 'Everyday Heroes' contest," Jefferson says. "I'll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be feted by the art world." I suppose that was supposed to be an incentive to submit a photo. It does not work on me. "It's great exposure and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Stella and Alyssa, get it together." Typically, he starts calling everybody by name. I hate that about him. "Taylor, don't hide, I'm still waiting for your entry, too. And yes, Max, I see you pretending not to see me. Jules, I don't know if I should even bother with you."

"You should not," I reply, getting out of the classroom quickly.

***

I go to the chemistry lab right across the hallway, always empty outside of class time. Well, not today. Warren is there, working on something.