Greenwood Bay

4 | Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Still, she had found other ways to get back at her mum. Without asking permission, she had signed up for the newspaper club as school photographer so that on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, she had to stay at school until 6pm. Gleefully breaking the news during dinnertime over a plate of spaghetti, she savoured the moment as her mother fretted over the implications of her impulsive decision and now they were in a awkward situation of whether or not they would pull their daughter out after committing to something. Naturally, as she spoke, Dakota became very interested in a piece of spaghetti and didn't reply but surprisingly, her father agreed it was a good idea and would look good on college applications. It felt good to see her mother secede.

The club meeting unfolded in a dingy clubroom on the top floor of the school where faded desks and worn chairs bore witness to decades of impassioned discourse. Despite the modest setting, the intensity of the discussion mirrored those of prestigious publications with topics ranging from mundane to monumental - you'd think this was teen Vogue or the Huffington Post!. It was no surprise that Violet was here and right in her element, continuously butting heads with Hank Johnston, a burly football player in the year above who was the president of the club, over whether the new staff car park or cultural heritage of the school was more vital to discuss in the paper. Thankfully, the school photographer didn't have to speak much which meant that Dakota could sit at the back and watch all the drama unfold; only occasionally, the conversation would turn to her for how best to capture the subject at hand, to which Dakota would simply say she would take a photograph, and satisfied, the conversation would go on. Surprisingly, although she had only applied out of spite, she was loving it!

A typical session would go like this... date: the Monday before thanksgiving; location: the dingy clubroom that somehow always smelled like fresh paint despite not having had a redecoration since 1978; discussion: the winter formal. Dakota was in her usual spot by the window (which was always drawn) sitting beside her new friend, Lily. Lily was short but mad girl in the year below who ran a small advice column on the last few pages of the paper. Her hair was dark and cut into a blunt and sharp bob, her square glasses magnifying her crazy eyes which always showed the white. Having not much to be involved with during these meetings, as her monthly work was answering maybe three questions in her enthralling gossipy tone, she instead spent the time whispering snide remarks to Dakota and occasionally suggesting the most ridiculous things to the delight of the room. One such example today was when Violet and Hank were on the feet arguing over the font size (small meant they could fit more in, larger meant people would be more inclined to read it), Lily had suggested that the only viable source of action was that they go outside and fight it out.

"No, we can't do that... right?" Hank murmured, sinking back into his chair.

"No, we'd get in trouble at the school," Violet theorised, settling back down too. "Maybe if we went down to beach...?"

"No one's fighting anyone!" Miss Davis interjected from her desk. It was a requirement that a teacher be present for any club meeting for this exact reason, but Miss Davis usually refrained from joining the conversation, opting instead to spend the hours marking papers.

"How about we just compromise and make the font size halfway between your suggestions? That way, everyone is content." However, the frowns on Violet and Hank's faces suggested otherwise.

"Let's just move on," Evelyn Montgomery said, rifling through some papers in her hand. Evelyn exuded the aura of a rich, old-money type snob, once part of Samantha's old clique, with her auburn curls and expensive designer everything. Yet, since it happened, she seemed to have dimmed slightly like a candle about to be snuffed. Her ensemble for the day—matching light-brown plaid with matching Louboutins—was considerably less flashy than her usual attire, and the red bags under her eyes seemed to have made themselves a permanent home on her face.