Page 37

Nora walks across the bridge, then stands on the other side. I glance at the father, who’s now recording his son as he catapults two chunks of bread at more defenseless ducks, then catch a glimpse of the sun. It has a warm glow that radiates joy and serenity. This will be a backlit photo, I decide.

“Can you move to the other side, Nora?” I call.

The father flashes me a glare that says I’m recording!

Nora crosses the bridge and shouts, “Hi good sir and child!”

The father groans loud enough that a duck flies away. His son glances at Nora before turning back to grenade more bread at the poor ducks. The father taps his phone again to presumably record another video.

I adjust my settings and examine everything in front of me. The sun gleams against the sky with a warm but blinding marigold. Backing up two steps, I raise my camera, and once the trees, their leaves outlined in a warm orange light, are in frame, I hold a thumbs up to Nora, and she does the same.

“Can you walk across the bridge and smile like you did when you saw what I gave you for your quinceañera?” I call. I hear the father mutter something before re-recording. He must be annoyed that I talked in his last video and now he has to start a new one. I’d usually apologize, but this time, I just smirk.

Nora strides across the bridge with confidence I wish I had. With every step her waves bounce against her shoulders, and her smile glows like the sun behind her. It’s the same smile she had when I gave her a handmade photobook, each page pasted with photographs of her greatest casual cosplays of video game characters, captioned with lines she always quotes from them.

“Stop right there, but still look like you’re walking,” I say as soon as she reaches the middle of the bridge. To demonstrate, I put one foot forward, toe pointing up, and angle my arms into comparison signs, clenching my hands into fists. Nora follows my pose, and she truly looks like she’s coming to the rescue.

Raising my camera, eye narrowed through the viewfinder, my lens locks Nora in focus. Once my finger touches the shutter button, I forget about everything else around me, and everything else I’m supposed to do. All nerves are gone. No one’s watching, and I have all control.

Click.

But the father is angling his phone in the background, so I adjust the camera angle until he and his son are out of the frame.

Click.

In case one photo doesn’t work out, I take several more, shifting to different angles, sometimes even zooming in.

Click, click, click.

With every click flickering out, I lose myself in all the shots. From the light glowing on Nora, to the turquoise bridge, to the sunrise golden across the lake. A friendship is like a bridge. It’s supposed to take you to another place, new and old, and lead you over any lake or obstacle that might drown you. A friendship keeps you from falling, holds you up until you reach where you want to be.

I raise another thumbs up at Nora, and she comes over. She shakes her head at the father.

“They could’ve just moved for a minute,” Nora says, raising her voice, which I’m sure is intentional.

“You’re right, but it’s fine.”

She raises her hand for a high five that I return. “Nice job. Glad you stood your ground.”

“Me too.” A proud smile flashes across my face. “Pretty sure we ruined all that guy’s videos.”

Nora shrugs high enough that her shoulders touch her ears. “Worth it!”

“Yeah, it was. To be fair, he photobombed some of my photos.”

“See? You guys are even.”

“Works for me. I’m just glad I finally got this photo done.”

“Let’s celebrate! The sunrise is so pretty, isn’t it?”

I’m about to say yes until she lifts up her phone so we’re both in her camera screen. It’s instinct that I dart away, hand masking my face.

“Emilyn!” Nora groans.

“Aren’t you ever going to give up with that?” I say, peeking through my fingers, the rest of my hand covering my face just in case she tries to take another selfie.

“Aren’t you ever going to be in one selfie?”