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hs88150.jpgbuy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 88

Rebecca sat on a white seamless sheet of paper that hung from a roll suspended twelve feet high and curved onto the floor in front of her. She was naked, but strategically posed: one leg crossed over the other; her arms hugged and covered her breasts. The hair on her legs and her arms and everywhere else was brushed and groomed. A stylist asked her to apply a creamy paste all over, to give it shine. Rebecca could tell he didn’t want to do it himself. She couldn’t care.

She took the photographer’s directions and she didn’t cry. She couldn’t care. Aaron kept watch for Devin outside the studio.

First Paula pulled into the parking lot, then Devin.

“She can come in, but not you,” Aaron said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Rebecca doesn’t want to see you.”

“What do you mean Rebecca doesn’t want to see me?”

“What’s going on?” Paula whipped out her notebook.

“I think you should go inside,” Aaron said.

Paula looked at Devin. “Seriously?”

Aaron held the door open for Paula. “I’ll see you in there,” Devin called after her.

“No you won’t,” Aaron said. “I need you to go back to the house and get your things. You can’t be there when Rebecca gets back.”

“What the hell did you say to her?”

“What the hell did you say to her?”'

“Stop being a prick, Aaron, and tell me what’s going on.”

“We watched the Six Million Dollar Man DVD.”

Devin was silent for a moment, then laughed nervously. “Come on, man. It’s not a big deal – it’s like a…like a performance art thing. I’m an artist. This is my work. Rebecca is a part of my art, she’s part of my work. You know what I mean, Aaron. It’s a good deal for all of us – everybody wins.”

“Just get your stuff out.”

Inside the studio, Rebecca sat wearing a white robe in front of a large mirror rubbing off cakey eyeliner with a cotton pad soaked in oily makeup remover. Paula sat beside her, notebook open. “What’s going on with Devin?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said.

“You guys break up or something?”

“I guess.” Rebecca began to cry.

“Oh my God, that’s awful. Breakups are the worst. Do you want to talk about it?” Paula patted Rebecca’s shoulder.

Aaron pulled up a chair on the other side of Rebecca. “That might not be a bad idea, Rebecca, to talk it out. Every regular teenage girl gets her heart broken sometime.”

She sniffled. “I just feel totally stupid.”

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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke