Chapter 1

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"These pictures are stunning," Mr. Lacoste said to me. "As usual, of course," he added with a smile.

"Thanks," I replied.

"There's a new contest I wanted to tell you about," he said, pulling out an ad and handing it to me. "First prize is $500. I'm sure you could win it," he told me.

I wondered if it was that obvious that I needed the money.

"Thanks, Mr. L. I'll look into it," I said, shooting him a smile.

"No problem, Nicole. You are an amazing photographer. I just can't wait to see the day that you become famous for your photographs," he replied.

"I'll be sure to thank you when I am," I said to him. He smiled at me, his chocolate brown eyes glimmering.

"All right, off you go now. I've got to prepare for my next class," he said. I nodded, thanking him again for the advertisement, and then walked out of his classroom and into the bright sunlight of the September day.

Just another day in the life.

I walked to the finance office so that I could pay my semester dues. I had barely managed to get the full payment, selling my pictures to various magazines, picking up shifts at the local diner, and playing guitar on the streets. Between paying the rent for my shabby one-room apartment and paying the minimum dues for school, I was literally living on every penny.

"Hello, Miss Evans. How are you today?" the secretary, Mrs. Patrick, said.

"I'm good. I have my payment," I told her.

"Just in time, too," she replied. I nodded, pulling out the check from my bag. I handed it to her and she processed it. As it was going through, she made idle chat with me.

"The weather has been just gorgeous lately, hasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, it has," I replied politely.

"I just wish I wasn't holed up in this office all day. I never get to enjoy the afternoon sunlight," she said.

"Yeah..." I said, not knowing how to respond.

Mrs. Patrick had always been nice to me. She understood that I was struggling to pay the tuition money every month and that I didn't have a steady job. Most kids that went to Berkeley had rich parents that paid for their entire undergraduate education. And if they didn't have rich parents, they were genius kids that got full scholarships. I had neither rich parents nor a beyond-genius mind.

"Well, here's your receipt. You should be all right until next month," she said.

"Thanks, Mrs. Patrick," I said, stowing the receipt in my bag. I would put it in my financial file when I got home later than evening.

From the finance office, I got on the metro bus which took me to the local diner and bar where I worked as a waitress. I had been lucky and was called in to pick up a shift. Usually, it was impossible for me to get work there. I was a less than part-time employee, which meant basically that I filled in for whoever couldn't make it, which wasn't very often. Apparently, the economy had hit a lot of people hard and good jobs were impossible to find. Who knew, right?

I got off at the corner of the street and had to walk about five blocks to get to the diner. All around me, college students and other people were milling around, enjoying coffees or talking freely about their busy lives.

The diner door opened with a sound of chimes.

"Nicole! Your shift started three minutes ago! Hurry up!" Steve, the manager and head cook, yelled when he spotted me.

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