Life is never dull for the Silms
The Photographer
CHAPTER
1
Jessie Silm - The Big Chance
“One, two, three, say cheese!”
That’s when my life changed forever. I knew what I had to do. Not sit around, grading papers. Or cleaning people’s disgusting teeth. Or defending someone in an unbelievably stupid case. Or fixing someone’s broken computer. Or fixing someone’s, who stupidly didn’t see a red light, car. Those careers are not for me. I’m destined to be a photographer.
My hands are meant to hold a camera.
My eyes are meant to see through a camera.
My future is meant to be a photographer.
My future is not meant to be a poet.
That’s what I want. Truly. For real.
I don’t want to be anything but a photographer. It’s simply my duty. Some dude in sixth grade on picture day helped me realize that. Now, pressing a button and saying ‘cheese’ is not all it takes to be a photographer. Some other dude on YouTube helped me realize that. It’s about lighting, composition, you have to make the person seeing the picture feel it. Not simply see it, you know?
Now, enough about that. I bet your drooling, sleeping, yawning, checking your watch to see it it’s time to go to bed, right? Ok, maybe not completely; but most people I talk to about that are doing those things. They’re probably just joking. Maybe not.
Anyway, let’s go to the important parts. How my life is now. . .
“See you later, Jessie!” said my best friend, Kate.
“See you later, Kate!” I said, back.
First day of high school, over. One hundred seventy nine more to go.
I’ve taken many pictures of my little town over the summer, while my family was on a budget, and we didn’t go anywhere. It makes sense, and I didn’t complain, because, face it, two plus six, eight. A lot of people to pay for a vacation.
In my family, there are six kids, and two parents.
Kylie and Kyler are twins. Both four. Margaret is nine, Elliot is ten, I’m Jessica, fourteen, and Stanley is sixteen.
While Kate, there is Kate, who is fourteen, and her sister named Kim, and. . . her dog? Kate only has a sister with a mom and a dad. But they do have Cooper, her dog.
Back when it was just me and Stanley, we had a dog. Her name was Ginger. She was a dog with a light brown coat, and at the tip of her paws, it was white. She was so cute, and she gentle and warm. Then one day, she started whining. We took her to the pet hospital, and the vet said she had cancer. Then a few weeks later, she died.
Anyway, as I was walking down the street, I passed my favorite corner in downtown Orville (the Wright brother), which I do everyday, but it was different this time.
I slipped my backpack off my shoulders, and I grab my camera.
I put on my favorite setting, black and white. I snap a picture. Bulls eye. My best picture in high school yet.
Next to photography, my favorite hobby is music. I play the guitar, piano, and the trumpet.
I love how the sounds come out from the keys on the piano.
The piano is singing, a beautiful voice rising above all others.
A powerful voice, turning people into a trance.
Again, not a poet. See? Music really affects me. Sometimes I can’t help it. But seriously. Photographing is life.
I put my backpack back on my shoulder. Camera in hand, I start walking. Snapping pictures along the way.
People call to me along the way. They wave, smile, they pretend to snap pictures. People know me. They call me CameraGirl.
Even a girl in my English class last year, named Josie, set up an account named CameraGirl in Instagram for me.
Once I get home, my brother, Stanley greets me. When he sees the camera in my hand, he says, “Nice, Jessie. Taking pictures? Well, that reminds me. I talked to Graham today~” Graham is his best friend. “~and he says that his Mom works for some company, and they are looking for young photographers, and I signed you up online.”
My jaw dropped, and I hugged him. “Thank you!” I squealed. “This could be my big break!” Along with my successful Insta Account, this could be a big chance for me to show my stuff to the world!
This could be my chance to be like. . . Dorothea Lang! My hero!
I walk in a trance to our room. I share a room with Margaret and Kylie. The boys have their own room to share with Stanley.
“Hey, Jessie. How was your day in high school?” Margaret asked.
“Ok, definitely crowded. Saw Stan a few times.” I replied, reviewing my Instagram. Got ten more followers. Score!
“Cool. My new teacher, Mrs. Firnton, she is so awesome!” As Maggie blabbed on and on about her teacher, I kept thinking about my big chance.
I picture a girl with blond choppy hair, grey eyes, and a tall athletic build. Maggie likes to compare me to her favorite character in the books she reads, some girl named Annabeth. That girl is around town, taking pictures, that are memorable, and well. . . great.
Anyway, you should get to know me and my family.
You know a lot about me, so. . . let’s start with my parents.
Mom: blond gorgeous shiny curls, grey strong eyes, tall, and athletic. She plays basketball when she has free time, so she and Stan get along well. She’s a computer programmer
Dad: Blond curly hair that goes up to his eyes, blue eyes, tall and more of a muscular build, not athletic, but muscular. He likes music. No, scratch that. He loves music. He plays guitar, piano, trumpet, violin, viola, and the cello. He’s the one who taught me to play. Architect. (Maggie says that Annabeth is also an architect. What’s all this talk about Annabeth?)
Stanley (Stan): Straight blond hair, blue eyes, tall, athletic build, plays hockey, soccer, tennis, and basketball. My Mom taught him to play. Sixteen, eleventh grade.
(Me in between here.)
Elliot (Eli): Curly blond hair, like Dad, blue eyes, tall, and is muscular. Like Dad. Plays instruments like Dad, plays all instrument Dad plays. Ten, fifth grade. I see bright things in his musical career.
Margaret (Maggie): Straight blond hair, grey eyes, tall, slim, smart. Read, read, and read. That’s like literally all she ever does. Especially those Rick Riordan books. Especially those. Straight A’s, especially reading. Not athletic at all. Maggie’s lucky because Mom would’ve nagged on her all day about not going out to exercise, but her grade’s make up for it. Nine years old, fifth grade. (Yes, she skipped a grade. She’s that smart)
Kyle (Ky, pronounced Ki, like Hi): Blond, curly hair, blueish grayish eyes. Tall for his age, and. . . he’s just four years old, but that boy is meant to be in the kitchen. Like, what? But he has talent. It’s a mystery, but. . . he’s just. . . we’re lucky we have him. We eat amazing food, when Ky is home.
Kylie (Kia): Blond curly hair, blueish grayish eyes. Tall for her age. Art. art, art. Her pictures are like my photographs, not exactly, but they have like this spark, not realistic, but the extra flavor Kia adds makes up for it. Four years old, preschool.
So, that sums up my family. Everyone calls my family the Talented. Like, “Hey! There’s the Talented!” or, “Hey, Talented, going out?”
But anyway, a package came for me yesterday, and that’s what I want to talk about. It’s interesting. It’s important. That package changed my life.
Forever.
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