Why Me?

Chapter Three

This Is War

My teachers were already piling on homework. That included MacNeill. For a Photography class, he had a pretty ridiculous first assignment. We weren't even starting with composition. We were already on people in their everyday life. It had to have a perfect composition, brilliant and clearly contrasting colors, and fluid movement and emotion. What kind of first assignment was that? I don't even want to think of what he'd want us to improve on or work towards if these were our expectations.

I crouched low, moving slowly to the side to get the best angle on a Frisbee game between a group of guys. I had already asked if I could shoot them, and they seemed pretty willing, calling me gorgeous and saying any day at any time. The bright red Frisbee, glowing red in the sun, sailed through the air. I watched it closely, waiting for just the right moment. There.

"Now," a voice said right beside my ear as I snapped the photo.

I yelped, jumping away from the source and turning around, falling onto the dusty ground. I looked up at Mr. MacNeill. He was holding back his laughter, his own camera dangling from his neck. I looked at it. It was very close to my own, but a model newer.

I had a special Canon that was built for extreme conditions, like freezing temperatures and rain storms, that also had battery preservation to where it could be left on for months and still be alive. They were fantastic cameras, able to stand hundred meter falls, and they lasted for years. I've only had mine for a few years, but I was planning to keep it until I died. 

MacNeill knelt down, knees cracking as they bent, and lifted his camera. I made a face at him, confused, as he adjusted his frame and snapped a photo.

"Why did you take a picture of me?" I asked.

"Composition is key, no matter how insignificant the subject is," he said, eyeing me as he lowered his camera. I felt my jaw drop, my eyes following him as he rose to his feet. That was intentionally evil. I jumped to my feet, dusting myself off.

I said it before I could stop it. "Why are you so freaking rude?" I asked. I froze and so did he, his smile disappearing. We looked at each other, my eyes widening as his narrowed. This was not happening.

"I am your superior, and there is a certain amount of respect that an inferior should have for their superior. I want to see you in my classroom this evening at seventeen hundred for detention. I don't care if you have plans or homework. Your plans are working with me tonight," he said, cold and intense.

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, his back straight and his muscles tense. I stood there, my face screwed up in surprise and confusion. I whimpered a little, feeling myself deflate. College wasn't so cool after all. 

"Hey, you okay?" one of the Frisbee guys asked, jogging up, Frisbee circling in his hand. I smiled weakly at him.

"Yeah... he's just... intimidating. I said the wrong things and now I have detention," I explained, not being able to help my pout. He sighed in sympathy.

"Yeah... MacNeill is a jerk... " he said. I smiled at him, nodding. He smiled back, stepping closer. "You're a freshman, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding, straightening up a little. He smiled, nodding.

well some buddies of mine and I are going to a party at a sorority tonight... would you be interested in coming?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me in curiosity. I smiled, feeling better now.

"Sure, I'd love to. Where and when?" I asked. He grinned.

"Number 13 on E street at twenty-one hundred. Dress code is whatever the hell you want. See yin then?" he asked. I smiled, nodding at him politely.