In the Shade of Groves [COMPLETE]

Chapter 2

"Okay everyone, settle in. We have a lot to go over and today is not a block period," Mrs. Hinton begins. "First, I want to welcome everyone and thank you for signing up for the yearbook committee. I know some of you worked with me last semester, but spring is really the time we need the most help. We have to establish a theme, format, senior quotes, ad placement and fundraising. We also need our writers to clean up stories and edit them down which means our photographers have to get their photos in earlier than the deadlines for everyone else," she takes a big breath out and everyone in the room laughs.

Mrs. Hinton is the youngest teacher at Grove High School which makes her the perfect candidate for fluff classes like this one. She can't be more than twenty-five and has curly blonde hair. She dresses very modestly for someone her age which is certainly not an accident. Parents would have a fit if they came to orientation and saw a young pretty twenty-something teaching their kid a serious subject like math. More specifically teaching the boys. The administration would never admit this but they strategically match-up gender and age with teachers and students. Probably because Timber High School has had a number of questionable student-teacher relationships over the years. The administration at Grove High would sooner burn the entire school to the ground before letting a scandal of that nature come out.

"I know it seems overwhelming but with all of your help this yearbook will be finished in no time. However, speaking of time, our deadline for this book is April 29th and the book will be released on May 13th which is exactly two weeks before the last day of school. So we have about four months in total to get this yearbook done," she sizes up the room as if deciding whether or not we can do it.

Students around the room share her worried expression; probably thinking this is not the fluff class they signed up for. A lot of the students that sign up for the yearbook are seniors like me. They probably figure this is going to be the yearbook they spend the rest of their lives looking at, so it better be good. My mother cut out a picture of herself from her senior yearbook and has it framed on the mantle. Next to hers, is my father's senior yearbook photo. It could just be my parents, but senior year seems like the most important of them all.

"Let's go over jobs and assignments," Mrs. Hinton goes down the list of writers, editors, graphic designers and photographers. "This year's lead photographer will be Paisley Dennis." She motions to me with her hand because so few of my peers know who I am. "I expect the other photographers to look to Paisley for guidance and direction if you don't understand what is being asked of you. I want pictures of absolutely everything, even the things you don't think are important. I want prom, sporting events, club meetings, day-to-day, plays, everything."

Mrs. Hinton continues to go over general expectations and guidelines for the yearbook. I decide to give the club meetings and day-to-day assignments to the younger photographers.

"Alright everyone, we only have about ten minutes left of class so get with your groups and start splitting up the work."

A few students move closer to my desk and wait for instructions. All of them are younger than me and one looks hopelessly nervous. Two girls, who must've joined yearbook just to hang out, offer to take photos for day-to-day. My guess is they want to see as much of themselves and their friends in the yearbook as possible. I hand a list of club meeting dates and times to the nervous one and tell him that's his only assignment. Best not to overwhelm the easily overwhelmed. One guy seems more confident in his skills, so I offer to split the work of the bigger assignments like prom, sporting events and of course my mother's fundraising gala. He seems satisfied and he's the only name I take down, seeing as we'll be working together more than the others.

"Juniper Phillips."

I pause before writing it down.

"Yes, it's a weird name. No, I do not go by June," he retorts to my silence.