Page 4 of Smile for the Camera

After I hang up, I walk back towards Nora.

“Ready to get that birthday cake ice cream?” I ask Nora once I reach her.

A few times she blinks, surprised. “That was fast. You know you have a good four minutes to take pictures, right?”

I shrug a shoulder.

“If you want, you can take more after we buy ice cream.”

“I haven’t even touched my summer AP homework. I at least need to get started on it.”

Nora stands from the planter and pats down her vines of black waves. She raises her phone, frames us in her camera screen, and smiles widely. I shield my face with my hands and dash away.

“Emilyn.” Nora groans. “For once in your life, just take a freaking selfie. You’re always taking pictures. When are you going to be in one where you actually smile for the camera?”

“Never,” I reply, peeking through my fingers.

“Come on!” Nora moves her hand up and down. “Your outfit’s really cute today.”

Even though I’m wearing my favorite black and white striped dress, I still shake my head vehemently. It’s different when I’m the one taking photos. I’m behind the camera, not in front of it.

Before Nora insists that I take a selfie, I say, “This is usually the time when Ice Cream Queen gets super packed.”

Nora hurries us to our favorite ice cream place. We stand in line for what feels like thirty minutes until it’s our turn. The sweet smell of my chocolate-drizzled cookies and cream tickles my nose as I lick a mountain of ice cream. I feel happy and free biting into the cookie bits, savoring the chocolate drizzle delighting my tongue.

Nora digs into her birthday cake ice cream as I tell her about the We Need More Jimmy competition, which hasn’t left my mind since hearing the details from Ms. Choi.

“Girl, you’ve got to enter!” Nora encourages.

“I might,” I say.

“It’s at Blossoms, right?”

“That’s what Ms. Choi said.”

“Let’s go!”

“What?”

Nora leads the way, and I feel compelled to follow her. I hope we’re not at Blossoms for more than two hours. My mom will freak if I’m not back before the sky darkens. We pass by several buildings, one with Nora’s family’s Mexican restaurant—Jimenez’s—and another with a bookshop and a music store. Finally, we find Blossoms, which is at the far left of a building, its name designed in intricately hued block letters that remind me of graffiti but wooden.

“Would it be rude to eat these inside?” I ask, nodding to our ice cream. I assume the Blossoms barista wants us to order whatever’s on their menu.

“Nah, I ate some burgers here the other day,” Nora says. “They’re cool with it.”

I catch a glimpse of the front window, its slogan—Start your art for your heart!—painted in pastel letters. This wins a smile from me. Never have I seen a slogan so endearing. We step inside Blossoms, the chorus to a Shawn Mendes song blasting upon our entrance. It’s a fairly new coffee shop that opened last year. Until now, I haven’t checked it out because I was always busy with school and Key Club.

The walls are saturated a dark cappuccino brown, and on the shelves, coffee bags and mugs with floral prints line the tiers. A counter with all the coffee essentials stands on the far left. At the front counter, there’s a brown-skinned barista with comic-styled tattoos along her arms, a black-haired guy calling out orders, and a girl with thick dark waves working the toaster ovens. There’s also a redhaired woman and a bald man in button-down shirts. They must be the managers.

My flats scrape across the tiled floor as I head over and pick up a sign-up sheet from the coffee counter.

“You’re going for it?” Nora says excitedly.

“Maybe,” I reply. It takes me a good minute to read the whole page before I slide it into my tote bag.

Tables that follow the latte-brown tones of the tiles and counters line across the floor like rows of dashes. Nora and I sit at one in the front. Paralleling us, there’s a stage with a guitar, a bass, drums, and microphones standing unoccupied.

“Hope the band’s good,” Nora says.