Heat.
Blistering heat.
There's not much more to expect out of an Oklahoma summer than that. Well, that and the tornadoes that decide it's time to make their grand appearance right about now, in the middle of May.
It's almost like there's a set routine to this time of year. We all wake up with the sun already shining through our windows at 6:30 in the morning, making us aware of how close we are to finally being free for a short three months. As we run out the door to make sure we're on time for our first class, it's almost as if the air is screaming at us, telling us to retreat, to stay home, to make sure we're safe, because today's the day; but every time, we resist. We've fallen accustom to this way of life, so much that tornadoes are a meer inconvenience in our daily schedules.
Somewhere around the hours of 12 and 4, we'll get an alert on our phones telling us to seek shelter immediately, although we were all on our way to do so anyway, because we don't need a meteorologist on a TV screen or an alert from the National Weather Service to let us know the clouds above us are oddly rotating. We scramble. We sit. We wait. Then, about twenty minutes late, after a very close call, we go back to our homes and snuggle up in warm blankets because the air is finally getting crisp and our toes are slightly cold and we're all ready for bed.
Luckily, this trend is starting to come to an end for this year. The date is May 21. It's finally our last day of school.
Today's pretty much a joke. It's really only for seniors to say goodbye to teachers that they love with all their hearts and classmates that they'll never see again. But for me, today marks the beginning of my freedom.
I got my drivers license in April, and ever since then, I've been dreaming about the perfect summer; long road trips to the beach, weeks and weeks at a time spent at the lake, sleep-away camps, bonfires, early mornings, shopping sprees, picture-perfect dates, photo shoots, anything I could possibly dream up. Today's the day I'm finally going to set my plan into action.
The bell rings and I make my way from my locker (that slightly smells like a concoction of B.O. and Bath and Body Works perfumes) to my first hour creative writing class. Next to me, a girl with long brown hair takes her seat as the light reflects off of her shiny earrings.
"Morning," I yawn, greeting the girl the same way I have every morning since this semester started.
"Good morning!" she replies. This is simply a part of our daily routine.
That's the thing I hate the most about school. I've never been one to keep a routine--I like to go with the flow, make things up as I go. With a thing as anchoring as a school, it can make a person that simply despises being tied down want to throw themself out a window.
"Last day with this freak, am I right?" Ava continues, but instead of looking at me, she's staring down at her phone, replying to her subscribers and letting everybody know that there's a "new vlog uploading right now!" I nod my head even though I know for a fact she's not paying attention. This is just how she's been since she's let the fame get to her head.
The bell rang to let us all know that if we weren't in our seats at this very minute, we would be counted tardy, and nobody wanted detention on the last day of the school year. I heard a collective sigh around the room as we all realized that it was going to be another eight hours before we ever made it out of this prison. In walked the certifiably insane English teacher, and suddenly I was excited that I brought a pair of earbuds to drown out the sound of her crazy accents. It came as a surprise to me that she chose the English accent instead of the ever-popular Russian one that was very clearly her favorite. She climbed onto a chair, then on top of a desk. This wasn't a surprise to any of us; she seemed to think of it as her stage.
"Alright class," she proclaimed in an awful accent that could only be pulled off by a lady like Mrs. Atkins, "since it's almost summer break, I want everyone to write about your favorite part of summer. As many paragraphs or pages as you want--I don't want to limit your creativity!" As she climbed off the top of the desk, I debated asking my signature question of "What if I can't pick just one favorite?" then realized it was just a waste of breath, seeing as I already knew the answer.
Waves crash upon the shores of Southern California. I breathe in the salty ocean air, listening to the soft sound of Ed Sheeran playing from the boardwalk. The sun is slowly starting to set, and as I carry my surfboard next to my body, my tangled blonde hair swaying in the breeze, I'm joined by a tall, tan boy with eyes that remind me of the grass after the morning dew and hair that naturally looks sun-bleached. We race each other back to the house to put up our surfboards, then I quickly throw on clothes over my swimsuit that is still blocking my tan lines. Our hands intertwine as we make our way to the boardwalk, barefoot and in love. Our dinner consists of fair food and ice cream, the only way to eat during the summer. I gaze up at the stars as we make our way back to the house. We softly hum the songs that are reserved only for us, softly whispering only a few lyrics, like "You got me crazy, driving all over town." We lie down together in bed, stealing only a few kisses as sleep takes us away, wrapped in each other's arms with nothing but the sound of the waves echoing through the window, the sheer curtains waving in the wind.
"Whatcha writing, B?' I hear from behind me, making me aggressively slam the paper onto my desk upside-down.
