Forever Daisy

Written and edited by a thirteen-year-old aspiring author and inspired by Taylor Swift's 1989 album.

CHAPTER 1

Welcome to New York

January in New York: crisp and sunny. It was noon, and I had just finished editing a few of my latest works at home, a long afternoon on campus still ahead of me. As I walked to Brooklyn Bagel and Coffee Company, I tried to remember my very first day in the city – the very first time I had one of those insanely delicious culinary creations in my now favourite cafe (while staring blankly at the breakup text from my stupid highschool boyfriend). Dating: what a waste of time. That was when and where my simple teenage life ended and my new, adult life began. It was time to grow up. From then on, I decided to look ahead and focus on my career – nothing more. Palmdale was home, but moving to New York City was like getting on an elevator that would take me right up to success – with a latte in one hand and a fresh bagel in the other.

It was the middle of winter, and my sister Pam and I had just landed. It was cold. Much colder than we Californians were used to, and the subway was packed with people. I remember Pam’s friend, Katie, picking us up from the station in her Honda Civic and looking out the backseat window at the dirty lumps of snow scattered along the sidewalk. Driving through the city, Taylor Swift’s latest hits playing in the background, and Pam’s eyes wide with excitement all remain vivid in my memory. She was going to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology while I was about to study photography at N.Y.U. I remember how we had to share a tiny, one bedroom apartment for the first six months, until she moved in with her boyfriend and I got to have it all to myself.

Now, nearly four years later, things were very different. Pam was married and working as a fashion stylist, and I was almost finished with my program at Tisch, while working part-time at photoshoots. Everything was more exciting than ever!

As I pulled open the door to the cafe and stepped in, I took in the warm smell of bagels being toasted and coffee being brewed. Behind the counter stood three employees, all busily putting together complex sandwich orders and chatting with one another. It was warm, and soft radio music was playing in the back somewhere but was muffled by the whirring of coffee machines and the clinking of plates. I loved this place. It was small but so welcoming, and fairly cheap. When the hustle of the big city got to me, this is where I came to ground myself and my busy thoughts. I pulled my tote bag up higher on my shoulder and walked over to the counter, getting in line.

“Hi!” I said to the tall man behind the counter. I had ordered lunch here what felt like hundreds of times, and all of the employees knew me and my order very well. “My usual please.”

Josh, according to his nametag, typed something into his computer. My usual consisted of a toasted poppy and sesame seed bagel with cream cheese, salmon, avocado and spinach. “Of course. Take out, right?”

“Um…I’ll dine in today,” I said. I pulled my wallet out of my bag and swiped my credit card on the scanner. Then he began the assembling process while I stood to the side, texting my friend Brie. She used to be like an older sister to me, and still is, when Pam fails at that job.

When I looked up from my phone screen, Josh was already sliding my order across the narrow counter towards me. I thanked him, grabbed my bagel and coffee and slipped into a stiff wooden chair by the big window facing the street. As I ate, I watched the cars zoom by: yellow taxi cabs, dull coloured sedans, city buses. If one of the passing by pedestrians were to look through the glass of this tiny, old-fashioned shop, they would see a petite, twenty two year old girl with tan skin, hazel eyes and long, dark hair, with both elbows propped up on the small, round table, lunching on an amazing bagel.

CHAPTER 2

How You Get the Girl

It was almost two in the afternoon when I walked through the big doors of the lecture room and slid into one of the chairs towards the back. I didn’t necessarily like sitting right up front with the whole class staring at the back of my neck for two hours straight, plus I prefer to observe from a distance. Today, Mr. Allen, my professor, would be introducing us to our final project of the semester and going over students’ questions before moving on to a new concept. The room wasn’t large or spacious like a traditional lecture room. Rows of black plastic chairs filled most of the space, a projector hung from the middle of the ceiling, and across the front wall was a big white projection screen. Slowly, the room started to fill up with young aspiring artists like myself. I reached into my tote and pulled out my laptop and a notepad. As I was digging for a pen I knew I had thrown into my bag this morning, I felt someone sit next to me. Why on earth would anybody sit next to me in the back when there are so many open seats up front? Reluctantly, I looked over to see who it was and to ask if they had an extra pen, but before I had time to formulate the words, the young man was already introducing himself.

“Hey! I’m Levi,” he said. He had striking blue eyes, wavy brown hair and was wearing a buttoned down white dress shirt with black trousers which complemented his lean but muscular figure. Instantly, I could smell his cologne. Clearly he had just come out of a meeting or was going to one after class – or maybe he was just one of those fancy guys who walked around in a suit all day.

“Oh, hi,” I muttered in a semi-whispering voice. My heart suddenly started racing. Nobody had ever sat next to me in class except Sophie, the quiet, dark-eyed girl who also sat at the back. We weren’t necessarily friends, but exchanged a “Hi” from time to time. Since both of us were weirdo introverts, we respected each other's space while being friendly at the same time. “Nice to meet you. I’m…uh…Camila. Cam, for short.” Oh. My. God. Not only was I talking to a complete stranger, but I was telling him my nickname. Quite a hot stranger, not gonna lie. Actually, he wasn’t really a stranger – I’ve seen him before. He was the guy who always sat in the very front row in the centre and asked a ton of questions. When Pam and I gave each other life updates over the phone, we called him “business suit hottie”.

“Cool. I really like your work!” he said, flicking open his laptop.

That phrase hit me like a train. He must have seen my photos of shoes in the gallery from second year. How embarrassing.

“Oh, uh, thank you!” I said uncomfortably. I could feel my cheeks turning bright pink. Was he just being friendly, or was he really interested in me and my work? I was still just sitting there, awkwardly, praying that Allen would start the class soon. I hated talking to people I barely knew – unless I was ordering a bagel. I tried to muster up the courage to ask Levi for a pen, but like always, my social anxiety kicked in at the last moment. So there I was, one hand on my keyboard, the other, penless, nervously clutching the hem of my sweatshirt. Professeur Allen was already explaining:

“...y'all will have to create something awesome using as many techniques that you’ve learned as possible. I don’t care what you do, just make it rare and eye-catching, something nobody has ever seen before. At the end of the semester, forty of you will be selected to display your work at the exhibition, which is a great way to get the attention of local galleries, advertising agencies, magazines…”

I zoned out for a moment because I knew exactly what I was going to do. The photograph I had in mind fit so perfectly with what Professeur Allen wanted, I couldn't help smiling with satisfaction.

When I zoned back into reality, he was saying: “This is a very important project. It has the potential to get you into a really good place in your career. So make smart choices, and show me the best work you can create.”

Towards the end of the lecture, when Mr. Allen was demonstrating a new technique and everyone was sketching the shadows, Levi looked over at my blank notepad, reached into his briefcase, and handed me a pen. It was quite heavy for a pen, and had a series of intricate gold rings around the top. The words The New York Times were written on the shiny black stone-like material. The tip was also gold; the shape of an old fashioned fountain pen. “Business suit hottie” must have something to do with the magazine. “Thank you,” I whispered, so quietly that I was surprised when he replied,

“No problem. You should have asked me earlier.” It was obvious that he was trying to make friends, and I surprised myself by not being awkward about it.

While I was sketching, I caught a few students looking over at me, their eyes wide. Had they never seen a pen? Before I was aware of it, class was over, and everyone was packing up. I turned to my right and held out the pen before Levi. “Thanks again. It…it really helped,” I stammered with a weird laugh. I nodded towards my sketch of Mr. Allen, standing in an uncomfortable squat, squinting into his camera. My eyes fell onto the silver watch on Levi’s wrist, reflecting the fluorescent light above. It must have been a Rolex. This guy is fancy.

“That’s really good,” he said, impressed, as he glanced at my notepad. “You’re just as good at drawing as you are at photography.”

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled. “But thanks!”

Then, just as I was about to turn to leave, Levi called after me, “Hey, Cam?”

“Yeah?” I said, surprised, and spun around to face him.

“Do you want to maybe go out for dinner sometime? I think your art is really cool, and I think we could learn a lot from each other. What do you think?”

I stopped breathing. My whole body went numb. What?! I hadn’t been asked out since senior year, of highschool. Ever since I moved to New York, I’ve been a single lady.

“Oh! I umm…sure! That would be great! Yeah no, totally, that would be awesome!” I couldn’t believe what I had just said.

“Okay, cool! Here, could you put in your number?” He handed me his phone – the newest iPhone model – in a sleek black case, no home button. This guy was clearly keeping up with the latest trends, unlike me with my old Samsung. With quivering hands I somehow managed to put in my number, then I handed it right back to Levi. After saying a few “See you arounds” and “Have a nice days” in the hall, I headed to the printing office to make photocopies of some material Sophie had lent me.

When I got home later that day, with fresh groceries and newly photocopied papers, I immediately grabbed my phone from my messy bag and checked my messages. There were two from an unknown number. He was persistent.

“Hey, it’s Levi. Are you free tomorrow night?” And then, “I was thinking maybe we could go to Masa’s Sushi Bar — let me know what you think.”

Holy smokes. Masa’s Sushi Bar is the most expensive restaurant in New York City. At first I thought he was joking, so I mused, Yes of course! Let me just tell my servants to pick up my gown from the dry cleaners and bring me my diamonds. I didn’t text him that, obviously, because I felt that he didn’t seem like the type to joke around, so instead, I replied with, “Hi! Yes, that sounds really, really nice. Thank you!”

“Okay, great! Then I’ll pick you up at seven. I just need your address.”

There was no way I was going to let him pick me up from my frumpy little apartment.

“Actually, could we meet up at school? I’ll be in the area anyways,” I lied.

“Of course! See you there ;)” he replied. I’m really good at making up excuses, especially when I don’t want to embarrass myself. I immediately called Pam to ask for advice.

“Whatup, Cam with a cam?” Ever since the day I got my first Sony camera back in seventh grade, she had been calling me that. It’s so funny to her, even now.

“Hi, Pam with a broken sense of humour. Guess what? I’m going on a date.”

“No way. Stop it. I love your little nickname for me. It’s so accurate!”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I can’t hear you! I’m on the sub and it’s really loud!”

“I’m going on a date!!!” I yelled at her through the phone.

“Who’s going on a date? Brie?”

“Okay, it’s not funny anymore. I know you can hear me.”

“Ugh, fine. Wait, gimme a minute. I need to let my excitement out.” With Pam, you never know how she’s going to react. What can I do? I’m best friends with my wonderful, overdramatic sister. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Telling Luke about the amazing nickname you gave me.”

“Okay, I have to go. Bye!”

“No wait! Seriously, I’m very happy for you. Like if I was on a trampoline right now I would probably jump to the moon and hit my head on it.”

“Geez, thanks.” I heard her squealing with excitement as the news finally registered in her tiny brain.

“When is it?!”

“Tomorrow night,” I said. “At Masa’s Sushi Bar.”

“No beeping way.”

“Yup.”

“Well guess what? I don’t believe you.” She’s so annoying sometimes.

“You don’t have to. I’m going either way.” I said in my sassiest voice.

“You’re kidding.” This is where my patience ran out. I took a screenshot of Levi’s text and sent it to her. She went quiet for a minute, then shrieked,

“Oh my god. You are so coming over and letting me do your makeup. This is so insane!”

“I know, right?”

“What are you wearing?!” she asked, breathlessly.

“Your silk black dress, heels, mini purse and pearls. Please?”

“Seriously, Cam? Fine. Just show up anytime, I’ll be home.”

I hung up and sighed, looking around. The kitchen was packed with plants that Pam bought and couldn’t take care of, the air smelled like a mixture of ten different scented candles, and the floor was in desperate need of vacuuming. Other than that, my tiny little one-bedroom apartment was pretty tidy, since I spent most of my time on the plush sofa (watching TV), curled up by the window (while doing homework), or in front of the stove (reheating Pam’s leftovers which she was too picky to eat). The place was all I ever wanted; quiet, cozy and neat.

CHAPTER 3

Style

The next day, an hour before I was supposed to meet Levi, I was sitting on Pam’s bed while she did my makeup. Don’t tell her, but I swear I could have done a better job. Meanwhile, her husband Lucas was steaming my dress in the other room (well, Pam’s dress). Once the makeover was complete and I was ready to go, she pulled me into her arms and whispered,

“I’m so happy right now. My little sister is finally all grown up!”

“Okay, enough. Remember, I’m only two years younger than you.” I heard my younger self talking through me.

“Fine. One last picture for Mom and Dad,” and she took another picture of me, standing by the door with my hair curled, my makeup done, and a warm woollen coat draped over my nervously shaking shoulders. I wore my mother’s pearl necklace; the one she had worn on her first date with my father. Since the day Pam and I moved to New York to pursue our passions, we have rarely flown back to Palmdale to see our family.

“Cam, if he dares lay a finger on you, call me and I’ll kill that guy on the spot,” said Luke, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. He was the absolute best brother-in-law anyone could wish for, although he was just as crazy as Pam. I guess that’s why they suited each other so well.

The date was near perfect. Levi picked me up in his shiny black Rolls-Royce, driven by his personal driver, and we spent a great evening together. I quickly learned that Levi’s dad was chairman and publisher at the New York Times, as well as the owner of an advertising agency (which explained the chauffeur and expensive dinner). That was pretty much the only thing that we didn’t have in common – money. He could tell I didn’t have the same lifestyle as him, yet he treated me like I was at least five social classes above him, if they even exist. I had never met a more charming person in my life. In highschool I had dated quite a bit (back when I was the popular girl) but somehow, I always ended up in meaningless situationships. I liked Levi. All throughout the evening he kept looking at me with a grin, eyes twinkling.

The sushi bar was super minimalistic but stunning. The interior mainly consisted of wood panels and stylish, modern chairs. The big glass doors and stone tables with square plates and platters, were all lit by warm coloured lights. It was all much fancier than what I was used to, but I had an amazing time. That night I tried the most extravagant sushi rolls and seafood I had ever even dreamed of. On every dish, perfectly balanced, was some sort of edible decoration. Half of them I couldn’t even figure out how to eat! It was an original, once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience.

At the end of the date, Levi drove me home. I was no longer ashamed of where I lived. Levi wasn’t the sort to judge. However, I didn’t tell him about my boring life in California – after hearing about the fabulous mansion he grew up in, the prestigious private schools he attended and all his dad’s fancy cars – I felt like a Mexican sewer rat.

Over the next few months, we were practically inseparable. We sat together in class, made unnecessary trips to the photography studio and darkroom, and snuck out of class when lectures got boring. Every night, we would hang out at his penthouse, watch movies, order Italian food, and drink wine while playing monopoly. It goes without saying that Levi’s luxurious suite was nothing like mine. It was modern and spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows, black marble countertops, glass chandeliers, and artwork that just didn’t make sense but looked very expensive. In contrast, my one bedroom rental apartment was small and just…average. Everything in Levi’s world, from laundry to doctor’s appointments, was taken care of by his “assistants”. He never gave me the code to his front door, so I couldn’t get into his place without ringing the doorbell and confirming that it was me. On special occasions, he would present me with fancy bags and jewelry, with which I had no idea what to do.

During those long, luxurious evenings, we showed each other our work and taught each other tips and tricks that our professeurs didn’t tell us about. I loved his smile and the way he ran his fingers through his hair. Everything about him made my butterflies flutter.

CHAPTER 4

New Romantics

When the time came to prepare my final project, I decided to work on some photos I took at Pam’s wedding in the Bahamas last summer. I had stayed a few extra days after the big day to take some photos of the beach and the exotic plants, specifically the ghost orchid. It is one of the rarest flowers in the world. Only a handful of people know where these mysterious treasures grow as the locations are kept a secret to protect them from poachers who try to remove them from their natural environments. However, while I was there, I went on a night hike with a local Entomologist I hired to help me find and photograph giant sphinx moths. One caught my attention when it miraculously landed on me during the ceremony. I felt I was lacking creativity in my work, and so I took on a new challenge. We followed a beautiful specimen of a sphinx and saw it land on a gorgeous flower that was suspended in the air, it’s roots attached to a large tree. The sweet scent had attracted the moth, and although I didn't get a good shot of it, the photo of the orchid was sublime. Funny how often we follow what we think we want but find something completely different; what we need. The orchid, positioned in the centre of the photograph, looked pale and fragile against the dark, rough bark of the tree on which it was growing. Its roots were sprawled out on the surface, crawling towards the ground. The flower looked as if it had long, thin arms which hung in perfect symmetry with one another, forming a sort of heart shape. The mouth-like dent was protected by the five long light-green petals that stretched upwards at the top, near the curvy green stem. I was very happy with the lighting. The sun had just risen, and the wetland was fresh and dewy, so the delicate flower was covered in a soft, gloomy light. I remember standing there in the still morning air, my camera pressed against my face, feeling like if I didn’t click the button under my index finger, it would simply disappear just as mysteriously as it had appeared. It felt too good to be true.

When I got home from the Bahamas, I uploaded all my best photos from that week onto a fresh card and had been waiting for an opportunity to go over and edit them to perfection. These photographs were my most prized possession (apart from my Brooklyn Bagel and Coffee Company gift card) and I had never shown them to anybody, except Levi. When I handed him my camera with the orchid innocently looking up at him from the small screen, he took it from me and examined it for a very long time before giving it back. He was fascinated with my skills and my ability to capture something so fragile and beautiful and make the vivid image last in your mind. Levi never showed me the projects he was working on until he was finished, partly because he wanted it to be a surprise, and partly because he was just that kind of person who didn’t like to share something he hadn’t yet perfected. A tiny part of me knew that he was not just a perfectionist. Something about his attitude made me wonder if he was struggling. Sometimes I wondered why he went into photography in the first place. Was it his dream or his father’s?

“Wow. You are so insanely talented,” he said softly as his eyes fell to the screen.

These photographs showcased what I had learned over the past four years.

Later that same night, back in my own apartment, I picked up my Nikon Z5, given to me by my parents on my twenty-second birthday and flicked open the part which held the SD card. Next, I slid it into the memory card reader and plugged it into my laptop. It took a while for the content to load, and I was starting to get worried. Apprehensively, I shut off my computer, then back on again – the photos still didn’t load. I tried everything, but the program still said No Files. Worried out of my mind, I grabbed my phone and called Levi, hoping that he would have an answer. We had been dating for almost five months now. I had already met his parents, and he was going to meet mine when we would take our first trip together to LAright after graduation.

“Hey babe,” he said, cheerful as ever.

“Hey! I have a problem. My Bahamas footage won’t load onto my laptop.”

“Hmm…that’s weird. Did you try reloading it?” he asked after a very long pause.

“Yes, but it still won’t work. I’ve tried everything.” At this point, I was getting mad.

“I think you’re a little frustrated right now. Just take a break and come back to it tomorrow morning – I’ll come and try to fix it before class.”

“Sure. And I’m not frustrated. I just need those photos.”

“There’s nothing I can do right now, I have company. I’ll be at your place around eight thirty tomorrow.” There was a long pause as I thought of something to say, but he said he had to go and quickly hung up.

Just as he had promised, Levi was standing on the other side of my door the next morning, wearing his usual dress shirt and trousers. He took one look at my computer and said that I must have accidentally clicked something on my camera that automatically deleted all the files. Of course I didn’t want to believe that, but it turned out that was the painful truth.

I didn’t know how to react. My throat tightened, and a sharp feeling of pain sent tears to my eyes. I shook my head. Levi was silent. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me – I knew he felt badly. What was I supposed to do now? The due date was tomorrow. Why do I always end up losing just as I’m about to win?

The rest of the day was a blur. Levi and I barely talked – both of us were lost in our own thoughts. It was just one of those off-days. After morning class, I had a photoshoot scheduled with one of my childhood best friends, Diego. Our families were always super close. I couldn’t remember a summer of my girlhood that I didn’t spend with him, building sand castles and playing volleyball at the beach – he was just a few days younger than Pam. And like a brother to us; a friend who you could always rely on. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he, the boy from the corner of the street who came to play in the backyard every day after school, was getting married. I was excited to do this for him, although I knew it might be awkward since we hadn’t seen each other since I left Palmdale. Especially now, when I was already under so much pressure, I felt like it was the worst possible timing.

The minute class ended, I got up, swung my bag over my shoulder and shot Levi a quick glance before running off to get lunch. I snatched a bagel, switched the lenses on my camera, and took a taxi to Central Park.

CHAPTER 5

Out of the Woods

When I got out of the car, I spotted Diego standing in front of the gate with his soon to be wife, Christine. His dark brown hair sat in a neatly brushed pile on his head and his eyes were as handsome as ever. The corners of his mouth twisted upwards when he saw me. Christine was blonde and had big, beautiful bluish-grey eyes. She was very pretty, I decided, though I wouldn't have pictured him with someone like her. Diego ran up to meet me first. He pulled me in for a hug, his long muscular arms wrapping tightly around me.

“Oh my gosh, how many years has it been since I last saw Cam with the cam?” he asked with a wide grin.

“Clearly not enough since you still remember my seventh grade nickname,” I said, rolling my eyes.

We laughed at how much we both had changed over the years. Then Christine walked up behind him, reaching out her hand to shake mine. She was so tall and thin, almost like a runway model, which immediately triggered my insecurities. Why did I have to be so short, so small, compared to all the pretty, normal girls around me? And why did I have to be so shy and distant; as if to seem even smaller than I already was?

My camera was getting warm from the blinding sun, the sky was the bluest it’s ever been and the air was filled with summer freshness. As I squinted at my camera, positioned on my tripod under a big tree, I couldn’t help notice how well they complemented each other. Christine’s long cream coloured dress flowed with the breeze, her blonde crop blowing in her face. I noticed the diamond on her ring finger – it must have cost Diego a fortune. I pictured Levi and I, right here, posing for our own engagement photoshoot. I wanted to be as happy as Christine and Diego were together. I smiled to myself, thinking about how Levi really could be my husband one day.

For a moment, I forgot about my lost project. Seeing Diego again was like looking back at family photos from when I was a child. For the first time in a long time, I missed home – the long, sunny afternoons we spent playing soccer in the backyard or climbing trees. Even after all these years, I still felt like that goofy boy was my best friend. Except now he was a tall, serious young man with a fiancee. At the same time, a subtle panic was slowly destroying me from the inside out. I had never felt so lost in my life.

As I stood there, fidgeting with my camera, I saw a single daisy growing underneath a tree. I bent down, turning my lens until the bright yellow centre and the white petals were in focus. I snapped the picture.

A long afternoon had gone by, spent sitting at a cafe with the soon to be married couple, discussing wedding details, and looking over the photos I had just taken. Diego and I quickly caught up on what had happened over the past few years, and Christine explained how they met and moved to New York together. She laughed as I told all the embarrassing and hilarious things I knew about her fiancée. Though I have to admit, it was extremely awkward at times – especially when Diego told the story of the time he and I hid in our little tree house while playing hide and seek and Pam accidentally took down the ladder, so we had to spend the night up there. When we parted, I strolled around Central Park, taking as many photos as I could.

Once at home, I made myself a panini for dinner and plopped down onto the sofa, laptop in hand, ready to edit. But, as I was examining the daisy photo, I noticed something strange. Zooming into the background, I realized I hadn’t even noticed Diego and Christine standing in the distance. She was standing in front of him, her back turned, tossing the hair out of her eyes. A look of pure disappointment and regret masked his usually joyful expression. Although it wasn’t very noticeable, especially since they were standing in the shade, when I saw that look of defeat on the boy I had cared about so much when I was young, my heart ached bitterly. I had caught a raw, unfiltered moment, and it was destined to be there. I clicked on the illuminating tool and made the couple look brighter in the photo. Then, I blurred out the other people I had captured, making Diego the focus. It goes without saying that this “project” would not compare to the one I had planned originally. Still, even though the common flower wasn’t rare or exotic, it seemed relatable in a sense. Perhaps people would understand it better. Perhaps it had more to say...

That night I went to sleep at nearly three in the morning, sick with worry. Finally, I was able to shut my eyes and doze off for a few hours, until the buzzing of my alarm shook me awake. The dreaded day had come. Unwillingly, I rolled out of bed and dragged myself into the closet. As I was getting ready, everything felt wrong: my jeans were too tight, my only clean t-shirt was wrinkled, my mascara turned out clumpy, and I was out of my favourite cereal. Like, c’mon.

CHAPTER 6

Bad Blood

Professor Allen’s office was a tight, stuffy room with a small window on the back wall. His desk took up most of the space. Shelves and drawers, with photography equipment and file cabinets, filled up the rest. Two foldable chairs stood on one side of the desk, with a large swivel chair on the other. The small gold panel on the desk said Jacob Allen, and all around it, papers and student files lay in a jumble. The reason I had asked to meet up with him after class was to explain what happened to my original project. That way, maybe he would let me try again and re-do the assignment as best as I could. While waiting for him to return from lunch, I noticed a stack of papers and a post-it note attached to the top page, with the words Class of 2018. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody was looking. Without hesitation, I skimmed over the pages, going through the folders with the speed of lightning. I noticed that most of it consisted of portraits, usually with unique backgrounds. Then I came across Levi’s name. I felt deeply disappointed. Each photo featured the same distorted shape of a woman – her face in the shadows. Furthermore, the photos were dark and hard to make out. I wasn’t expecting him to be working with some kind of model, without telling me. Carefully sliding his folder out of the stack, I examined it more closely. I was about to stick it back into the stack when an envelope fell out of the folder. It had Levi’s name and address printed in one corner, the New York Times logo in the other. Inside was a letter with a small, HD print photo attached to it with a gold paperclip. Extremely confused, I pulled it out and took a look. There was NO WAY. My stomach dropped into my heels. I felt nauseous.

The photo was of a ghost orchid – my ghost orchid – which I had taken last summer in the Bahamas. I blinked. Once. Twice. Still, I thought I was hallucinating. A mixture of disbelief and confusion washed over me as I yanked the letter out of the same envelope. It read:

Mr. Levi Martin,

Congratulations on becoming a part of our community! Your artwork was praised by all of our publishers, and we are excited to feature your unique photo on the cover of the Entertainment section about your graduating class of young artists and the support given by Tisch School of Arts. We would love to include your professor in the credits as well.

We are so proud to be working with you. Please contact us about further details.

Sincerely,

Hugo B. Martin

Chairman and publisher of the New York Times Magazine

No – this isn’t real. He had taken advantage of my photograph and his dad’s position to sign a contract with the Times?! All of those meetings Levi arranged with his dad now made perfect sense – he had been planning it for months. In that instant, I knew exactly where I needed to go. Without thinking twice, I crammed the letter back into the envelope and shoved it into the stack of folders. In the blink of an eye, I was flinging myself through the glass doors of Levi’s condo. I tried not to act suspicious because I knew that wherever I went, there would be a security camera watching my every move.

The minute I heard the elevator ding I stepped in, trying to catch my breath the whole way up to the twenty-ninth floor. Stepping out, I smoothed down my dishevelled hair and cleared my throat. All around me, fancy decor was displayed on glass pedestals: fake flowers, mini statues and metallic shape-like figures (the meaning of which only the ultra rich would understand). Everything was lit by high-tech L.E.D. lights and smelled like a brand new car. And there I was, standing in front of his penthouse, where just yesterday I had felt so safe and welcome. I rang the doorbell – the button just below the security camera, built into the marble wall. Covering it with my sweaty palm, I waited there, angrier than ever before. Then the door opened, and Levi’s facial expression turned to stone. We stood there, looking at each other for a silent minute, both of us trying to think of something to say, until a high-pitched, strangely familiar woman’s voice called out from behind Levi’s back,

“Who is it, babe?”

I was already the angriest girl in New York – probably even in the whole country. This was just the cherry on top.

I rose onto my tip-toes, peeked over his shoulder, and saw Sophie standing behind the kitchen counter in my bathrobe, making lunch. Instantly, as if my hand had a mind of its own, I stepped closer to the cheater, lifted my palm and slapped him as hard as I possibly could. I then turned around and let the elevator swallow me, hot tears burning my eyes.

CHAPTER 7

Clean

The air smelled like fresh pancakes and coffee. I turned my head and looked around the spacious room: the floor was covered in dancing sunbeams, streaming in through the Roman shades hanging from the big window. It was pretty much silent, except for Pam and Luke’s muffled voices. It was that time of day when everything seemed so calm and still, even though it was a busy work day in one of the most populated cities in the world. Yawning, I got up from the couch and, unable to find my slippers, made my way over to the kitchen, barefoot. I was wearing Pam’s sweatpants and tank top, my hair in one massive knot.

“Morning!” Pam said from the kitchen table.

“Good morning, Pam with a much better feeling sister.” I said in return.

She smiled. “I’m glad. I made pancakes, especially for you.”

As I ate, I replayed yesterday’s events in my mind. I left Levi’s condo, went straight to Pam’s, and told her the whole story. We wallowed for a little, and then decided to go to the bar, where we stayed until closing. Obviously, Pam forced me to stay the night. So there I was, eating breakfast with my sister at noon on a Thursday.

About a week later, I was sitting at my desk, editing engagement photos, when my phone rang. It was Diego.

“Hey! What’s up?” I asked, surprised.

“Hi Cam! Not much, you?”

“I am currently editing your engagement photos! I think you and…”

He didn’t let me finish. “Cam, don’t worry about the photos. The engagement is off.”

I didn’t know what to say. What a shock. Finally I broke the silence. “I’m so, so sorry, D. What can I do? Do you want me to call and yell at her?”

He forced a laugh. “No. Actually, umm, I was the one who broke it off.”

Suddenly, I understood Diego’s disappointed expression in the photo with the daisy – it made sense now. “Oh…”

He asked if we could meet at the bagel shop to talk. I immediately agreed. I was going to be there for him, no matter what. I got up from my desk, put on my sneakers, and threw my hair up into a messy bun. Diego needed me, and I knew what that felt like.

In about ten minutes, I was already walking into the cafe. I ordered a latte for myself and an espresso for him – that was his favourite. As I turned around to look for a table, hands full, Diego was already heading towards me.

“Hey, D. Again, I’m really sorry,” I said as I handed him his coffee.

“Don’t be. It was the right thing to do.”

I nodded compassionately and pointed towards a small table in the corner. “Do you wanna sit?”

“Sure. I’m sorry – this is so last minute.”

CHAPTER 8

You Are In Love

We sat down opposite each other. Within the first thirty seconds I could already tell he was holding something back by the way he fidgeted with his cup.

“Cam…I…” he began. I looked up into his eyes; the eyes I knew so well.

He continued with a sigh. “I know this is weird, and we haven’t spoken in a long time, but…the reason I broke up with Christine is because of you. I thought she was my soulmate, and everything between us was going so well. But then you smiled at me and I realized what a mistake I’d made.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest. Deja vu. Not in a bad way, though. Not anymore.

CHAPTER 9

This Love

Look at that; Diego hasn’t changed a bit. I look at him and smile, thinking about that day at the bagel shop one year ago when I fell in love with him.

“What is it?” he asks with a boyish smirk.

“Nothing, just wondering how we ended up here.”

He leans over the console and kisses my forehead, then takes my hand in his and gives it a tight squeeze. “You excited to go back home?”

My eyes suddenly fill. “That’s an understatement.”

Ever since I graduated from Tisch with perfect marks and got a scholarship, I have been the centre of attention in the world of photography. But part of me desperately longed to go back. I had left home because I thought that maybe, if I ran away from what I was used to, all my problems would solve themselves. Years ago, I had rejected Diego, not because I didn’t love him but because he wasn’t good for my future. At least that’s what I thought. But having big plans for the future doesn’t mean you have to leave everything else behind. Because here I am, about to get married in the same place and to the same boy I was trying so hard to escape as a teenager. Suddenly, the thought of going back to Palmdale hits me and I instinctively reach for my bag, pulling out my camera. Holding up my bagel, the incredible city of New York in the background, I snap a picture of my last Brooklyn bagel. As we drive to the airport, I replay the past two years in my head. What a journey it has been! Nobody would have guessed that it would take me four years of photography school, a betrayal, dramatic breakup and a major burst in my career just to realize that I was always meant to be at home, with my childhood best friend.

Levi was the lost ghost orchid, but Diego was my forever daisy.