The Chosen One.
A Life is StrangeTM Fanfiction.
POV: Mark Jefferson.
By Roisin Wallace.
I knew from the moment she first walked into my classroom. The signs were all there from the first time I laid eyes on her; from her brown suede messenger bag swinging softly against her hip, to her tattered faded black converse gently brushing the dust from the ground into the air creating invisible clouds around her feet giving her the aura of an angel, so pristine yet vulnerable with her eyes averted to the floor in shyness, that she was The One. I knew from the first glance of her pure and innocent face, with her soft wisps of brown hair falling just above her shoulders and wavering baby blue eyes that contained as much mystery and magic as the ocean itself. She was going to be next. Sweet, innocent and naive Max Caulfield had it. I just knew it. She had The Gift.
The classroom flooded with students but she was the only one I cared at all for. She sat alone, at the table furthest towards the back of the room. The table was positioned central which provided me with the perfect view point of her sweet, angelic face. Of course, I had to pretend to actually be a teacher, so shifting my gaze from student to student was necessary, however difficult it was to tear my eyes away from Max's milky, pale skin. Time to begin the class.
"Alfred Hitchcock famously called film, 'little pieces of time' but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was." I began, trying to draw in as much focus and attention from as many of the students as I could. I could see some students zoning out, losing focus and becoming easily distracted.
"These pieces of time can frame us in our glory" I continue before pausing to look around the room at their fresh, eager faces, keen to become well known photographers like myself. "And our sorrow; from light to shadow. From color to chiaroscuro."
In my mind I growl in frustration. They weren't paying attention. They had to pay attention to ME. Only me. Time to give them a little slap, call them out and see if they had heard a single word I had just said, or read a single page of the summer reading I assigned them. I look around the room, even my precious Max isn't giving me her full attention, Dammit, what if I'm wrong? What if she isn't the one?
But she had the exact same look in her eye that Rachel Amber had, and you were right about her, weren't you? My subconcious reassured me, patting me on the back as though to settle my nerves. I coughed loudly to clear my throat, before turning my attention back to the class.
"Now, can anyone give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?" Start off with an easy question, Mark, go easy on them, it is only first thing in the morning after all. Anyone? I waited patiently, hoping my little Max would give me the answer that I wanted but no, her mind wasn't in the classroom, you could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't in the best frame of mind. She looked worried, very anxious. Perhaps that was another sign that she was the one? I mean, the deer on her top, maybe...
My thoughts were interupted abruptly as a student called out, "Diane Arbus." I had to look up to see who the student was, and there she was, Victoria Chase with her arm in the air, a smug look on her face because she was obviously used to being right all the time. Even though it wasn't an answer from the student I wanted to hear from, I couldn't help but dance a little internally that someone in the class knew the material and wasn't half asleep.
You could tell at first glance that Victoria was rich, spoiled to the point where she never had to want for anything. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, as some might say. With her pristine haircut and black cashmere sweater with a gold collar showing, her entire outfit just screamed overpriviledged. Most of the students here at Blackwell Academy are, I suppose some might say that this is a school for the elite. Except for my Maxine, the scholarship student of the class. She has raw talent, and didn't rely on money from Mommy or Daddy to get in. She got in all by herself. Good on you Max. But regardless, a correct answer is always that: a correct answer, and a correct answer makes me glow a little inside.
"There you go, Victoria!" I exclaim, unable to mask or contain the enthusiasm in my voice. Push her, the voice of my subconcious whispered into my ear, Really let her show me how smart she is. "Why Arbus?" I enquire, pressing further and further for an intellectual answer to give me hope that I wasn't just teaching a class full of wealthy zombies.
She looked pleased that I continued to talk to soley here, of course her answers were for the benefit of the whole class but I bet she was imagining that we were all alone in a big empty classroom together, just she and I, discussing famous photographers and their work.
"Because of her images of hopeless faces." She began, showing promise and intellect, "You feel like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children." She concluded, her pride at her answer shining out blindingly. She really did think very highly of herself. I suppose her answer was right, but she didn't go into nearly enough depth, but it was more of an answer than anyone else had given me in the twenty minutes we had been in the class so far.
It was time to step in, introduce her to the reality of Diane Arbus and her views, which although are intellectual and symbolic, I just didn't agree with. It wasn't so much that I disliked her work, on the contrary; I admire her photography, but she only tends to capture the negative aspects of the world, effectively painting the world as a wholly bad place for everyone.
"She saw humanity as tortured, right?" I watch Victoria nod her head in agreement, "And frankly, that's bullshit." Crap. I'm a teacher, a professional, I'm not supposed to go around swearing, especially not in class time, in front of my students whose families could sue me faster than I could apologise if they felt like it.
I attempt to turn it into light hearted humour, nothing that a charming wink and a husky laugh wouldn't fix. "Shh." I chuckle to the class. "Keep that to yourselves." Another wink won't do any harm, though this one was directed towards Max, though she wasn't paying attention which is actually quite rude. I managed to maintain a light hearted expression before coughing and refocusing on what I was actually meant to be doing: teaching.
"Seriously though, I could frame either one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation." Crap. Don't let yourself sound too creepy, you need this job. You need this to work, my subconcious reminds me with a warning tone. Proceed with caution, it says. Fix this, it says. I scratched the nape of my neck anxiously, frantically coming up with a way to save this in my mind. "Oh, but any one of you could do that too. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious? What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence? She had a brilliant eye so she could have easily taken another approach, another viewpoint." Good save, intelligent answer, now they'll probably think you know what you're talking about. They probably just think you're an eccentric guy with a passion for photography. Better than them thinking you're some sort of creep I suppose. God Mark, stay focused on the task. Keep your eye on the prize Mark, eye on the prize.
It appeared I had almost enlightened Victoria, my little monologue had flicked some switch inside of her, caused her to turn on her once loved photographer.
"I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of her work, I prefer..." she paused for a minute to think her answer through carefully, "I prefer Robert Frank." she finished, a smirk on her face. She'd obviously seen the photography book on Frank in the wall unit and assumed he was one of my favourites. I had to admit, I do admire his work, but I wasn't going to tell her that, no point in adding flames to the fire of her crush. Besides, I was only really interested in Max.
I looked over to Max, it was obvious that she hadn't heard a single word that had been said in the whole class, she was in her own little bubble, her own world with her nose buried inside her diary that she carries everywhere with her. I wonder what she writes in it, maybe she's written about me in it. What if there's some proof, some evidence that she was The One. I'd have to figure out some way to look inside it, but until then, I'll have to trust my gut instinct and believe she's The One.
I watched her carefully, mentally noting down every little thing she did, every mannersim, which ear she tucked her hair behind, the way she - oh! She picked up her little polaroid camera and held it in front of her face in position to take a photograph. Since she clearly wasn't paying attention to the class, drawing the classes attention to her seemed perfectly fair.
"Shhh." I silenced the class to draw more attention to Maxine, my voice serious yet teasing at the same time. "I believe Max has taken what you kids like to call a 'selfie', a dumb slang word for a wonderful photographic tradition." I paused and looked around the classroom, hesitating as to what to say next. Do not give the game away, do not lose this early in the game, my consciousness warned, glaring right at me, stay cool, don't say anything you'll regret. "And Max, has a gift." FUCK. Why would I go and say that like that, I could've just said that Max was talanted or good at photography. Crap. I could feel drops of sweat forming around the side of face, collecting in my sideburns. My face was warm and clammy and my stress levels were rising rapidly. Stay calm, just breathe, no one is onto you yet, you're still safe.