Page 63 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Eight shots?” She looked dismayed. “That’s it?”
“Instant film, kiddo. Quality over quantity.”
Tyler was already pulling out his wallet. “We’ll take three packs.”
“Tyler, that’s expensive?—“
“Consider it driving lesson payment.” He handed over the cash. “Besides, you need practice shots.”
Gary showed Stella how to load the film, how to wait for development, how to store the photos properly. She absorbed it all with the same intensity she’d applied to the DMV handbook.
“First shot’s always a test,” Gary advised. “Don’t waste it on something important.”
Outside the shop, Stella immediately raised the camera.
“What are you doing?”
“Test shot.” She aimed at Tyler. “Smile.”
“Stella—”
Click. Whir. The photo ejected with a mechanical sound that made them both grin.
“Now we wait,” Stella said, holding it carefully. “Three minutes,” Gary said.
They sat on a bench outside the café, watching the image slowly materialize. Tyler’s face emerged from the chemicals—caught mid-protest, hair messy from the morning wind, but smiling despite himself.
“Your hair looks better than in the high school one,” Stella observed.
“Low bar.”
“I’m keeping both. For comparison purposes.” She tucked the new photo carefully into her bag. “Breakfast?”
“Breakfast.”
Over breakfast burritos, Stella plotted her photo strategy with the seriousness of a military campaign. Twenty-four shots total. She needed to document important things. Not waste them.
“It’s just film,” Tyler said. “We can get more.”
“But these are my first ones. They should matter.”
“They will. Whatever you choose.”
She took her second shot right there—Tyler mid-bite of burrito, hot sauce dripping, eyes wide with surprise.
“Stella!”
“Important moment. First real burrito that doesn’t come from a kit.” She waved the developing photo. “In Sydney, we think Old El Paso is authentic Mexican.”
Tyler nearly choked on his burrito. “Old El Paso? That’s... that’s not Mexican food.”
“Tell that to Australia. We have whole aisles dedicated to taco kits.” She took another bite, looking genuinely amazed. “This is so much better. And no beetroot!”
“Beetroot?” Tyler set down his burrito. “In Mexican food?”
“In everything. Burgers, sandwiches, wraps. I went to a place in Bondi that did ‘authentic Mexican’ and they put beetroot in the tacos.”
“That’s... that’s a crime against tacos.”
