Chapter Thirteen Like Father, Not Like Son #2
When we get to the old sign, Jeff shows us some printed plans from the landscaper and explains how to mark off the area that we’ll need to dig.
While Noah is marking the grass with spray paint, I pull my good camera from my backpack.
The morning sun is reflecting off the worn wood of the old sign, and the grass—now that most of the weeds have been removed—is looking very green this morning.
I play around with some settings and take a few shots of the weathered old sign.
“Nice camera, Princess,” Kennedy says, her voice sounding like a warning.
I exhale. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it. Kennedy’s going to steal it. “Um, thanks. It was my friend’s dad’s… He gave it to me because he never used it.” I don’t want anyone, especially Noah, to think I got my camera with Jason’s money.
“Kennedy, leave Meera alone,” Noah says.
“You don’t even know her.” My head whips over to look at him.
He’s carefully measuring and marking the edges of the garden bed.
After how weird it’s been between us since the party, it feels like a victory that he defended me.
And called me by my first name. I put my camera back into my backpack and put my gloves on as Kennedy scoffs and walks away.
We work quietly for a while. This is backbreaking work. I’m going to be even more sore than usual after digging out this flower bed.
“Those pictures you were taking,” Noah says, “are they the kind of stuff you took back in the city?”
He’s talking to me. I smile to myself. “What do you mean?”
“You said your camera is important to you. Is this what you normally take pictures of? Parks and trees?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I take pictures of the city.”
When he looks at me quizzically, I explain.
“I started taking pictures of my friends.” I chuckle.
“We borrowed my friend Adanna’s dad’s camera to pretend we were models or movie stars.
We used to go to this one alleyway in the city that is absolutely covered with street art and the coolest graffiti, and I’d take pictures of their outfits.
My friend Keeley brought a digital piano one day, and I took pictures and video of her playing it with the graffiti behind her.
They were a huge hit on her socials. Adanna’s dad gifted me his camera after that, saying that I had a much better eye for it than him.
” I smile, remembering my friends and the city that I love.
“But my favorite things to photograph are buildings. I love how huge they are. And how different they can look depending on the weather, or time of day, or even the angle. I became obsessed with architectural styles and started taking pictures of the hidden gems in the city. I have a blog for them, actually. And I post on socials, too.”
He looks surprised, and I have the fleeting thought that Noah’s brown eyes are the most expressive part of his face.
“Why isn’t that your goal, then? To be a photographer instead of an architect?”
“I dream big. I want the chance to make the buildings I’m always admiring. And architecture is the perfect blend of art and math for me.” I pause as I lift another tuft of grass out with my shovel. “Architecture programs are hard to get into, though.”
“Didn’t you say that your grades were at the top of your class? You’ll get in.”
I shrug. “They might find out about my trespassing charge.”
Noah glances toward the LeClair plant on the other side of the fence. “Yeah, but you’re a LeClair now. You’ll get what you want. Because LeClairs always do.”
Jason’s lawyer did assure me that university admissions wouldn’t find out about my criminal record.
I sigh. I worked my butt off for my grades and extracurriculars.
And I’ve been saving money for school since I was fourteen.
I don’t like the idea that all that time was wasted because of who my mother married.
“If I get what I want, it won’t be because of Jason,” I say.
He doesn’t respond to that. Just keeps shoveling soil.
“What about you?” I ask. “You said you’re going to work in the plant in September. Is that really what you want to do?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t say more.
When he told me that he thought he’d be working in the plant in September, I assumed he didn’t have the skills or inclination to do much else.
But now I’ve heard him play guitar, and I know he’s been in music lessons for a long time.
Being best friends with a music prodigy has taught me that, yes, there can be a lot of innate talent when someone plays that well, but a heck of a lot of work goes into proficiency like that.
Keeley practices every day. She wants to make her living in music, and she’s working her butt off for that goal.
And it seems to me like Noah’s been working his butt off too. He wouldn’t get that good without practice, no matter how talented he is.
“So, what do you actually want? A career in music? Like what your father wanted?”
He doesn’t answer for a long time. And yeah, I guess this is a big question.
His father’s hopes and dreams for a music career led to a substance-use disorder, among other issues.
Could Noah admit to me that he wants the same thing without acknowledging the risks?
Or the fact that it’s a major long shot?
He goes back to digging. “Noorani, I may only be a year older than you, but let me give you some words of wisdom that I’ve learned since I was your age.
Hopes and dreams aren’t for everyone. I’m genuinely happy for you, and I have no doubt that you will be a fancy architect in the city one day, but here?
Here all I can hope for is that my family and I make it to another day. ”
I sigh. I want to tell him no, that even if he has family and money issues, he’s incredibly talented, and all he needs to do is figure out the small steps to reaching his goal, and then do them.
But what do I know?
I wasn’t rich, but I’m realizing now that my life was actually pretty easy even before Mom married Jason.
I had Mom supporting me, and my grandparents, plus Keeley and Adanna and their parents.
No one in my family has substance-use issues, that I know about at least. And I grew up in a city, where I could be exposed to so many opportunities, like an arts-focused high school and the architecture mentorship program at the university.
If Noah had been able to grow up in Toronto with his mother, if he’d had more people on his side, he would be a very different person now.
I give him a sad smile, and we keep working in silence.
We work on the garden beds the next day too, but on Wednesday, when I get to CROP, Noah isn’t there.
I text him while Lainey is going over what we’ll be doing for the day (planting perennials in the beds we dug), but he doesn’t answer.
Noah and I are the only ones who haven’t missed a day of CROP, and I’m worried about him.
Later, when Lainey gives us a fifteen-minute break, I awkwardly go to where Kennedy and Ash are sitting on the grass near the other garden bed.
Kennedy’s wearing another Studio Ghibli shirt.
This one has a picture from Ponyo. I can’t wrap my head around someone as mean as Kennedy being into wholesome Ghibli movies.
“Um, do you… I mean, do you know where Noah is?” I ask.
Kennedy snorts. “He’s your boyfriend? Shouldn’t you know that?”
“Noah is not my boyfriend. We’re… friends.”
Kennedy shrugs. “Whatever, Princess.” She whispers something into Ash’s ear, clearly about me, and Ash laughs.
I’m tired of this. “I don’t get why you hate me so much, Kennedy,” I say. “I haven’t done a thing to you, and I don’t want to be here any more than you do. There’s no reason for you to be a bitch to me because I’m worried about Noah like any normal human being would be.”
She blinks at me several times, like she’s surprised I stood up for myself. I fully expect her to say something about me calling her a bitch, but instead she calls out without warning, making me jump a little, “Braden! Come here!”
Braden comes over. “Have you seen Jacobs?” Kennedy asks. She turns to me. “Braden lives on his street.”
Braden shrugs. “Haven’t seen him, but heard his brother was tossed into the drunk tank again last night after tweaking at the pit.
Mark my words, that guy’s not going to survive to twenty-five.
There’s always mayhem at the Jacobs house.
” He chuckles. “Noah’s probably wasted too. Check the town jail.”
I tense. Noah’s brother was arrested? That explains why Noah isn’t here, but it doesn’t explain why he’s not answering his phone.
Kennedy’s face finally transforms into concern.
“Braden, you’re a jerk.” She looks at me.
“I’m sure Noah’s fine. He’s not really…” Even though she trails off, there’s a genuine look of thoughtfulness on her face.
I know what she’s trying to say. Noah’s not like his brother, even though that’s what everyone thinks. I nod at Kennedy. “I’ll drop by his house when we’re done. To check on him.”
“Tell him to let me know if he’s okay.”
“Will do.”
I go back to planting perennials, but I’m even more worried about Noah now.
And also, did Kennedy and I just have a friendly conversation?
I go straight to Noah’s town house after we’re done at the park. When I knock, I don’t expect anyone to answer it. But almost immediately Noah himself is at the door.
His eyes widen with surprise when he sees me. “Noorani?”