Angel Kiss - Laura Jane Cassidy [59]
‘What’s over there?’ I asked, having spotted the sign that read foto fun. Colin trailed after me as we pushed through the crowd.
‘It’s a photo booth!’ I said.
It had a red velvet curtain and for four euro it promised a variety of fun photo options. You could get a tropical paradise background, your head in an astronaut uniform, or feature in your very own movie poster.
‘You can see what you’d look like as a Manga character!’ said Colin, pulling back the curtain and sitting on the swivel seat with the cracked leather cover. He chose the Manga option and posed.
‘Deadly!’ he said, when the screen showed him with big eyes, a pointed chin and a thin nose. He put the money in and clicked print.
‘You go,’ he said.
My Manga character looked a lot like me, but with a triangular face, accentuated eyebrows and small blood-red lips.
‘I should do a painting of these,’ said Colin.
‘Let’s get one of the two of us together,’ I said, rooting in my purse for change. The seat was barely big enough for one so I sat on Colin’s knee.
‘I’m not in it,’ said Colin. ‘Scooch down.’
‘You are in it. I’m not – you move,’ I said with a giggle.
‘You totally have more screen space than me.’
‘Right, smile!’
Colin playfully pushed me out of the booth and waited for the photos to come out. There we were, Colin and I, our faces squished together, me sporting the biggest smile ever, Colin sticking his tongue out. But there was something strange about it because hovering above our heads, just over us, was the outline of a blurred face. A blurred face with long black hair.
Colin nearly dropped the photo.
‘What is that?’ he said. ‘What background did I press?’
‘It’s OK. It’s her,’ I said. She was back. She was definitely here.
Before Colin could react he heard someone call his name.
‘Colin!’ shouted Mary Reynolds. ‘Just the person I was looking for.’
‘Me?’ Colin’s voice was shaky.
‘Yes, Bob was meant to be judging the art show, but he’s sick. Would you mind filling in for him? It’s just this way.’
Before Colin could protest, Mary was pulling him in the direction of the art tent, and I was left there, still looking at the photograph. I could tell that Colin was freaked out, but I wasn’t scared. I just wanted to help her. As the ink dried, her face started to fade, and soon all that was left was a light grey mark above our heads, so light that you would hardly even notice it.
The second-hand bookstall had lots of good stuff. I got a copy of Slash’s autobiography for only three euro and I bought a thriller for Mum. I was sorry she was missing the fête; it was a lot of fun. But she’d said she just wasn’t in the mood for it and didn’t want to risk running into Des after what I’d told her.
Mary Reynolds’s voice echoed from the speakers. ‘The Miss Avarna Presentation will take place in ten minutes.’ There were a few excited gasps from the huddle of contestants. Colin was still in the art tent, so I went over to see how he was doing.
The children’s art competition entries were tacked up on a white board that spanned the width of the tent. I scanned the assortment of juvenile doodles and paintings.
‘Right,’ said Colin. ‘I have to pick a first, second and third. Oh, and two highly commended ones.’ He showed me the little bunch of rosettes. I didn’t envy his job. I’d never been very good at art. I could appreciate it, but I had no idea how to judge it. There were drawings of horses and sheep and houses and flowers and one that looked like it might be a spaceship.
The tent was eerily silent. Paper and crayons and pencils were strewn across the white tables. I spotted a picture of a black bicycle. It stood out from the sheep and the horses and the maybe spaceship. Colin must have thought so too, because he pinned the ‘1st prize’ rosette on it. I counted ten pictures of horses. Colin gave second place to the one whose head was in proportion to its body. He gave third prize to a painting of a golden Labrador.
‘I’m tempted to give highly commended to this one,’ said Colin, pointing to a picture that was composed of a simple black squiggle.