get your snaphappy. × photo class I.

[Prosper Darcy]

Hmf...

This was the first sound our subject in question made that morning. It was far from intelligible, though the thought behind it was clear - ‘‘I do not want to hear your bullshit.’’ His getting out of bed was imperative, though, and upon recalling this, Prosper's morning sailed smoothly thereafter. It consisted of: a bagel with cream cheese and a mug of coffee; your average early-day hygienic needs; the collection of his items for work; and then a short ride up to Hammel. For the duration, he mentally grumbled to himself.

It was his first year actually teaching at Hammel, though he was not unfamiliar with the facility itself. When he had come, he'd been too old to actually attend as a student (in his opinion, at least); however, the psychiatric assistance and general meaning he needed in his life at the time existed there. After two years of regaining his life, he decided to apply for a subject he'd developed a passion for - art, and photography in particular. Although his stoic expression did not display if effectively, Mr. Darcy was excited.

After pulling his Harley Davidson Softail into the staff parking lot, he cut the low grumble of the idling engine and dismounted. Hauling his messenger bag over one shoulder, and his bike helmet under his other arm, Prosper made way into his designated building, meanwhile dislodging the room key from his pocket with a grunt of exasperation. Damn those tight, deep pockets. He checked in once indoors and, offering the receptionist, secretary, what-have-you the friendliest smile he could so early in the morning, Darcy left to trek the halls at a leisurely pace until he found his room. It was not the largest of classrooms, but enough to boast the students - equipment was stored in the photo lab, only taken out or used when the students were putting it to use for a project, or on one of the campus photo excursions. Today was only the first, though - a day not for devices or trips outside, but for a fun ‘‘getting to know you’’ session, class procedures, and a syllabus. Joy.

Prosper wrote his name upon the board in a crisp calligraphic hand, and then proceeded to arrange the papers from his bag on his desk in his office. He could see clearly out of the fair-sized cubby in the back of the room, so if anyone emerged from the hall, he would notice. Now it was a waiting game - both for the first wave of kids to arrive, and to start using the equipment. He eyeballed the large black wall-clock, noting that they should be entering very soon. Reaching up to swipe away any missed sleep-crust in his eyes, he plastered his face with an expression of cool pleasantry, and focused his peripherals on the door while his gaze scanned vertically along the first in the stack of syllabi.

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[Zachary LaRousse]

Zachary’s day hasn’t been good, to say so the least. After all, two periods with the Samuel Rixon isn’t really a walk in the park. Sure he barely got inside the classroom for the first class but Sam ‘made up for lost time’ on the second one, and I tell you, it was all but bearable. He barely got out of the room alive, figuratively speaking. (Thank goodness Devin was there, and she decided to put her ‘friend face’ on, else Zachie here would’ve just died there and then). He would’ve wanted to cut class there and then, but a small voice inside him is screaming, urging him to go on. He needed to make a good first impression, so that he could do whatever he wants to next time. “Fine, I’ll go” he mumbled, trying to compromise with his ‘inner voice’, “But if Samuel Rixon shows his freakin’ face again, I am so dropping this subject.”

He stopped for a bit to grab his schedule from his backpack pocket (apparently he hasn’t memorized his schedule yet). “Not another elective?!” said Zac, almost shouting in surprise. “Oh Cedric, you are so gonna pay when I get home,” he mumbled, almost crumpling the paper in his hands. As stated a dozen times before, Zac doesn’t manage his schedule, his ‘nanny’ does. He gives Cedric full authority on what courses he should take – he knows Cedric won’t lead him to harm anyway. And while Cedric does the job of choosing the correct required courses, he gets back at Zac by enlisting the young boy at various electives, most of them far from the young man’s interests. And apparently this year, Zac just had enough time for him to be entered in two. “First drama, now photography? Oh you are so getting it Cedric, oh yes you are,” he growled as he made his way to his room.

Despite spending nearly four years in Hammel already, it took quite some time for Zac to finally find the entrance to the photography room (he blamed his lack of interest for the subject entirely, thus having no intention to find the room specializing in it for the past years he’s been in Hammel). He stopped for a bit when he arrived in front of the door, making sure he looked presentable still despite the stress he’s been through so early in the morning (also, if the instructor’s a young lady, he needs to look great so that he could turn the charm on and, hopefully, smooth sail the course away). “Well, I’m here. I guess there’s no turning back now,” he huffed, still hoping Sam isn’t inside the room, sitting prettily with his cheeky grin like an innocent kid.

After a few minutes of conditioning, he finally found the courage to turn the knob and open the door. He couldn’t help but be startled when he saw a guy inside, looking so…so…so… something. He was at a loss for words. ‘Like a mixture of stiffness and coolness,’ he thought, ‘Weird.’ He shook his head to shake the ‘daydreaming’ away, looking at his wristwatch and quickly bowing (in apology, probably). “I’m not late, am I?” he asked, glancing at the board to get his instructor’s name, “Right, Mr. Darcy?”

[Alice Perette-Johnston]

Alice stared blankly at the ceiling, watching the tiles shift in a constant, winding dance. They rolled lazily in front of her vision like clouds creeping through the morning sky. Morning. Alice sat up slowly, her body lifting from her sternum like the old-school horror mummies, her head lolling forward when she had finally sat up straight. She had made a practice of laying in bed for at least an hour or two in the wee hours of the morning; pretending to sleep at least gave her the illusion of being normal…and it kept her roommates from being weirded out. She would spend the few hours, passing time thinking, or occasionally singing little songs in her mind or sometimes she would watch the shadows play badminton on her wall. Then she would get up. Change her clothes, and go about her day as if she were well-rested. Alice wasn’t quite sure what “well-rested” meant, but she knew what “waking up” felt like. And she knew today she had to “wake up” to get to class.

Photography class had been a very nice suggestion from one of the Hammel staff. With Alice’s strange eye, she was certain to produce something akin to art, right? Alice hummed softly to herself as she pulled on her socks: one electric pink, and one white. She glared at her shoes for a moment, her nose twitching in distaste. Really, she hated sneakers, but the photolab was a bit of a walk from her dorm, as she recalled. Grudgingly, she pulled them on her feet and whisked off the nightgown from the night before, pulling on instead a drab grey frock. Now appearing more ghostlike than ever, the brown-grey dress floated about her knees, Alice flounced out of the door, bright red Keds scuffing at the floor along the way.

Slowly her skipping walk came to an end and she simply wandered through Hammel. She always left with a hearty amount of time to get to her class because she liked to walk slow and watch the people go by with their green laughter and tasty smiles. Also, sometimes she became quite lost. For instance, on this, her first day of photography class, she forgot altogether where she was going, and simply began to follow a rather tall fellow in particularly interesting pants. When she realized she was more interested in his pants than getting to class, she stopped abruptly and blinked. Gathering her bearings, Alice started back off to class again.

When she finally reached the photolab, there was a boy chattering in the doorway. She looked at him wide eyed, tilting her head like an odd-ball bird in the zoo. The boy was hovering in the doorway, his back to her as he nervously greeted the teacher. “Is this---“ the door snapped shut in her face when Zac bowed and entered the room, releasing the door from his grasp. “--…photo….gra…phy?” She finished slowly, running her palm curiously over the door. Had this been there before? Only the top of her head was visible through the small window in the door to the classroom, but it was clear that Alice remained outside rather than choosing the logical option of following Zac in.