Candid

• Amanda Kour, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

The familiar flutter of the camera shutters was preceded by a blinding white flash, igniting temporary galactic spots in the vision of the sweat coated basketball players. The amethyst purple jerseys that clung to the sweaty bodies of the athletic figures were displayed radiantly in the image that appeared on the camera, the pride evident in the gleaming smiles that accompanied the translucent sheen glistening upon their matted hair.

“Thank you, we’re all done.” Cole murmured as he fixed his gaze on the image on the camera.

Buoyant laughter and juvenile punch lines were thrown amongst the squad of victorious basketball players as they bustled out of the musty gym. Cole cringed at the sound of sneakers squeaking against the ground, but never averted his hooded emerald eyes from the screen. A vague scowl painted itself across Cole’s chapped lips as he fixed his gaze on the basketball captain of the Lilydale High Warthogs, who smiled back condescendingly with his pearly white teeth.

Cole pressed his gnawed down fingertip on the zoom button, anticipating the appearance of the familiar figure that lingered by the doorway. As the grainy pixels disintegrated, the feminine figure facing the doorway become apparent, emitting a guttural sigh from Cole.

Rhiannon Carter.

With her thick mocha tresses and her olive complexion, it was difficult not to identify her. Her refined hourglass figure was prominent despite being clad in a track suit, her back facing the camera as she stuck a large poster on the gym interior by the door reading ‘SPRING PLAY: BUY TICKETS NOW!’ Although it wasn’t just her physique that brought such ecstasy to Cole’s psyche, it was her mannerisms.

The way her thick eyebrows raised jubilantly at the mention of a Broadway musical in play created a tingle in fingertips, and the way she crinkled a new script between her fingers sent his mind on a euphoric landslide.

Cole traced his finger over her hourglass figure on the screen, fantasising of how it would feel to genuinely trace the outline of her warm body.

I’m in love, he repeated to himself. In love.

The aggravating shrieking of teenage girls in the hallway disrupted him from his trance, evoking a demeaning scowl. Cole switched off his camera, before snatching his equipment from the cold bleachers and barging out of the gym. As he entered the hallway, a grimace was plastered on his face as he avoided footballs soaring over his head, and cheerleaders chanting as they sent high kicks and pom poms flying.

At last he approached his dark room of solitude, slipping through the opaque black doors that shielded his clandestine hobby. The dark red gleaming illuminated the room faintly, as Cole set down his heavy equipment.

He lifted his hand to gently trace the familiar figure on the square photograph hanging by the peg as it dried, accompanied by the hundred more photographs that zoomed into the candids of the school’s infamous drama queen.

Cole wasn’t in love.

He was obsessed.