the contest

He was my first crush. I mean, I had had other crushes before - the Greatest American Hero, the Karate Kid, Will from Land of the Lost. But this was my first real person crush - Keith Carter. He was 14, I was 10. He was tall and lean and athletic, with dirty blonde hair he was always sweeping out of his face. He was quiet and serious, not dumb and silly like the other boys. I would watch his basketball practices and stare at him in church when he was an altar boy. I wasn't sure which uniform looked better. The basketball jersey showed off his broad shoulders, but he looked so pious and pure in those holy white robes.

My best friend Nadine and I were obsessed with him. We would sit on her bed and stare at her Adam Ant poster, speaking to Adam as if he were Keith. We would have imaginary conversations with Keith (disguised as Adam Ant) which went something like this:

"Hey Nadine, I think you're the prettiest girl in school. Wanna ride on the back of my bike?"

"I don't know Keith. I've never had a boyfriend before. But I think I love you."

"I love you too. Let's go to the park."

Or,

"Noreen, I'm afraid if I start to kiss you I'll never stop."

"It's okay Keith. I can hold my breath for 127 seconds. Start kissing."

Then Nadine and I would take turns making out with the poster of Adam Ant, pretending it was Keith. We would moan and giggle because we weren't really sure what the moaning was all about. We were sorry to be so young, and feared that our tender age would keep Keith away from us. So we tried to rush maturity along. We would wear her mother's bras and stuff socks in them while wearing maxi pads. We would grab our stomachs and say, "I think I just felt a cramp. I'd better go check my underwear!" We were always disappointed to see the dry, white underpants signaling that we were indefinitely stalled in childhood.

Nadine and I had a "Keith Carter box". In it, we collected anything we associated with him. We would follow him around the school yard and pick up his discarded candy wrappers. Milky Way was his favorite. Nadine stole a pencil out of his book bag, and I picked up a broken bit of shoelace he had thrown in the garbage. Anything he had ever touched was precious to us.

Our most prized possession was a blank and white passport photo of Keith when he was five. When we were little, the Hoboken Reporter held an annual "charming child" contest. Mothers would primp and preen their small children and bring them to the Photo Shop to have a picture taken. All of the pictures were then laid out in the newspaper, and the most charming child was chosen from among these photos. The photo we had of a five-year-old Keith came from this contest. He had a long bowl cut and a thoughtful look on his face. We took turns sleeping with it under our pillows.

We had come into possession of the photo because Nadine's father owned the Photo Shop and he kept all of the charming child photos he had ever taken. Nadine's father was much older than her mother, and he looked like Ichibad Crane. The Photo Shop was littered with portraits of Nadine - playing the piano in a gown, swinging from a tree branch, running on the beach. I thought the pictures, and Ichibad's adoration of Nadine, were a little creepy. But he gave us the run of the shop so I didn't mind him so much.

One day while Nadine and I were doing homework in the back of the shop, Ichibad announced that he was holding a contest. He was going to fill an entire window with empty film canisters, and the three people who came closest to the exact number would win brand new cameras. I became obsessed with the cameras. I had to have one. It was all I talked about to Nadine. I would ask to hold one of the canisters, feeling its weight, and I would try to calculate the dimensions of the window. Keith Carter and Adam Ant were forgotten. It was all about the contest.

I was too embarrassed to come out and ask Nadine to help me win the contest, so I dropped painfully large hints. "Nadine, nothing would make me happier in the world than if I had a camera," or "Maybe I wouldn't need to sleep with Keith's picture anymore if I had a camera of my own. Then I could take a picture of him myself." This was the tactic that finally worked. Nadine agreed to tell me how many canisters were in the window on two conditions: I had to let her keep the Keith Carter picture always, and I had to devote my first entire role of film to capturing images of Keith playing basketball. I easily agreed to the terms.

511 canisters. That was the winning number. Nadine and I didn't want to be obvious about cheating, so we decided that I would guess a number that was a little off but would still win me a second or third prize camera. It was risky, but we couldn't chance being caught. I even went into her father's shop on three separate occasions and made three separate guesses. On my first visit I guessed 240 and handed the slip to Ichibad. During my second trip I puzzled over the display for twenty minutes, and finally plunked down a guess of 312. On my last and final visit, I burst into the store in a frenzy, proclaiming that I had had a dream that revealed the exact number - 480! I handed over my final guess and paraded out of the shop, glad that the charade was finally complete.

One day Nadine and I were in the front of the shop playing Battleship. The door opened and Keith Carter glided in. We were mortified to be caught playing such a childish game. Keith was picking up a role of film for his mother, and Ichibad went into the back to find it. That left us alone with Keith. He glanced in our direction, but immediately became fixated by the contest display. He picked up one of the prize cameras and looked through the viewfinder. "Cool. I've always wanted a camera of my own." Since no one else was in the shop, Nadine and I took that to mean he was talking to us, and we swooped to his side.

"That camera looks really good on you Keith!" I practically shouted.

"Here. Take a guess. Take a few guesses. Take as many as you want. I bet you'll win. You're really really smart." Nadine thrust some papers in his hand. After looking at the display in deep concentration, Keith wrote down several guesses and stuffed them into the guess box. Nadine took the pen back and hugged it to her chest.

Ichibad returned with Keith's mother's film. Keith paid and turned to leave without a word. Nadine shouted "Good luck Keith!" and I added "We hope you win! You deserve it." When the door shut behind Keith Nadine and I collapsed into a pile of giggles and shrieks. Ichibad looked at us as if we were diseased.

The winners were to be announced on a Friday afternoon at 5pm. Nadine and I waited in the shop for the inevitable crowd to gather for the announcement, but no one else showed up. At 5:15, Ichibad unceremoniously announced the three winners by hanging a sign in the window. First Place - Jerome Jordan. Second Place - Ana Morales. Third Place - Noreen H. Thanks for Playing! The Photo Shop. I had won! I had won! Nadine and I held each other and danced up and down. We tried to feign surprise but quickly gave it up. Ichibad looked at us with a knowing smirk and crouched behind the counter. When he stood back up he was holding my brand new instant camera. He congratulated me and handed me my prize. He then took a picture of me holding my new camera and said it would be displayed in the window with the other winners' photos. I hadn't expected this little bit of notoriety, and I was ecstatic.

By Monday afternoon my photo hung alongside those of the first and second place winners. Students and teachers congratulated me all day Tuesday. I was so happy that I had all but forgotten how Nadine and I had cheated. I was basking in the fresh glow of local celebrity, and it felt wonderful.

After school on Wednesday, I ran home to get my camera and went straight to the gym, where the boys were having basketball practice. This was the first time I was going to use my camera, and I would keep my promise by using all of my film on Keith Carter. I sat high up in the bleachers and affixed the flash bulbs to the top of the camera. When I looked up at the court, Keith Carter was staring directly at me. I felt a cramp in my stomach and feared that I was about to get my first period, but then recognized the cramp as fear. He stared at me as he dribbled the ball. I bit my lip and looked at my feet. When I looked back up, he was bounding up the bleachers towards me. This was it. He was finally going to be my boyfriend!

He stood over me and looked down at the camera. I didn't know what to do with my eyes. I would look up at him, then look away, blinded by his beauty.

"Cool camera," he said without a smile.

"Thanks."

"I know what you did." I made full eye contact and saw that he was angry. The cramp in my stomach intensified.

"What do you mean?" I stammered.

"I'm not stupid you know. You and Nadine are best friends. Her old man owns the Photo Shop. I know she helped you cheat. I know that's how you won the camera".

My face burned. I was losing my boyfriend. We were breaking up before we even went out. I couldn't speak, but I think a noise similar to "eek" arose from my lips.

"I'm just saying," he glowered, "that's messed up. I really wanted that camera. I didn't cheat. I played fair and square".

My voice was barely a whisper.

"But I had a dream. The number came in a dream."

"Yeah, well. Whatever. I just want you to know I know."

With that, he turned and raced back down the bleachers and rejoined the practice. I looked down at the camera in my lap and I couldn't touch it. It was dirty now. The shame burned my face. Keith Carter knew I was a cheat and a liar. Keith Carter would never be my boyfriend. I carelessly picked up the camera by the strap and snuck out of the gym.

It took a few weeks, but I eventually convinced Nadine to let me sleep with Keith's picture a few nights a week. We had both lost some of our adoration for Keith, but we tried to keep it going anyway. We still talked to Adam Ant, but we didn't make out with him as much. We collected Keith's used candy wrappers, but only brands we didn't already have. I couldn't bring myself to take pictures with the camera. It sat on my shelf for years, unused, like a trophy.