Sometimes Anna can't even stand to look at Summer because she's so damn glossy.
Everything is bright in Southern California, of course. The first few weeks she was constantly reaching for her sunglasses, even on the rare cloudy day, even inside, because her eyes couldn't handle it; not after Pittsburgh, with its grey sky and gritty industrial air. She's used to it now, but every so often she'll look around and wonder what kind of crazy Technicolor fantasy she's wound up inside.
All the girls in Newport have a certain glow, but Summer? Summer's got it in spades. Anna has to squint, some days, when Summer walks into her line of sight.
Her shiny hair, her gleaming teeth, her vinyl-slick lips – she's like a perfect headshot come to life, sprung from Kodak Premium UltraGloss paper. The kind with the watermark on the back.
Anna had a pack of that paper back in Pittsburgh, when she was in a photography class. It was incredibly expensive; she'd paid twenty dollars for five sheets, which she guarded with her life and only used for her best prints. For the rest of her work, she used Satin, because it looked almost as good and cost a hell of a lot less.
What she'd really like, now, is a pack of the cheap no-name matte paper, the kind that goes all grainy after a few extra seconds in the fixer. Even the best prints looked amateurish on that kind of paper. On that kind of paper, maybe Summer wouldn't be quite as glossy. She'd be greytoned, like Pittsburgh, fuzzy and imperfect.
Anything to make her just a little more attainable.
