I wake up to the bright morning sun shining through the bay window of my new room, casting shadows over the foot of my bed. The rays of the sun bounce off of the cardboard boxes stacked against my wall, softening their glow. I rub my tired eyes and check the time on my cell phone: 8:15 AM.
It is Thursday, the first morning back in Kala, and as much as I want to close my eyes and sleep the entire summer, I have decided to be strong. I climb out of bed and walk across the room, the wood of the floors creaking beneath my feet. My wall mirror has not been hung yet, so I prop it against a few of my cardboard boxes and hope that it doesn't fall over. The last thing I need is seven more years of bad luck.
Once my mirror is steady against the boxes, I stare at my reflection; the wisps of too-red hair around my too-green eyes, the ski-slope nose that looked almost identical to Ben's, the thin and freckled shoulders and collarbones that protruded from my body. Then for the millionth time since graduation, I try to find a solution as to why Hunter Winston found me beautiful. Maybe the alcohol persuaded the compliment, maybe it was too dark for him to actually see what I looked like. But maybe, just maybe, he saw something in me that I had never noticed myself.
I move some of the boxes to the ground, trying to locate my clothes. I push aside boxes of stuffed animals and miscellaneous junk before I come across Ben's name. I pause, staring at the three letters scrawled across the cardboard in red crayon, debating on rummaging through his belongings. But I know that if I open one box, I will spend the rest of the day reminiscing over my brother once again. I hold my breath as I pick up all of the boxes labeled with Ben's name and slide them into the farthest corner of my closet, stacking them neatly and out of sight. Although I hate myself for pushing Ben aside, just as my parents did those years ago, I know that it is what I need to do.
I slide another box to the side, finally finding my clothes in the mess. I quickly slide on a pair of denim shorts and a plain white t-shirt, tying my long hair into a simple braid across my right shoulder. I glance at my reflection in the mirror one last time before slipping on a pair of sandals and heading for the stairs.
Before I fell completely asleep last night, I had planned the day ahead. Not only did I want to prove to myself that I could be happy in Kala, but I also wanted to be less of a hassle for my parents. The first step in doing this was to face my fears.
As I make my way to the first floor of the house, I hear my mother calling my name from the kitchen. "Sid," she calls over the loud hum of the vacuum cleaner, "is that you?"
"Yeah, I'll be home soon!" I call back.
I slip out the front door of the house before my mother has time to meet me in the foyer and interrogate me.
The chill, early morning wind is immediately refreshing as I step off of the front porch and onto the sidewalk, taking in the view of the town we left behind. I breathe in the familiar scent of fresh-cut grass, noting that the closest lawn mower is coming from our own backyard. I hurry along the sidewalk before my father can see me leaving, and then I slow to a leisurely walk.
Fortunately, it is too early for many of the townspeople to be awake, so I spend the majority of my walk alone. It is exactly what I had hoped for. I wanted to become accustomed to the town I would be living in for the next few months. Even though I have seen it all before, I want to be able to make better memories to remember about Kala.
My sandals make slapping noises against the uneven concrete as I walk, the morning breeze causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. I glance at the rows of small houses as I walk by, spaced far enough apart for trampolines and driveways, but close enough to be able to tell what the neighbors are watching on television. I crane my neck to take sneak peeks into other backyards, curious to see if anyone else has a dogwood tree in theirs. I secretly hope that they don't, that our new house is the only one on the block with such a beautiful piece of nature planted just a few feet out the back door.
My heartbeat quickens as I round the corner onto another street and see the canopy of oak trees sprouting just above the horizon. I am heading toward the river. For starters, I truly just want to see if it looks the same, or if four years has altered an important component of my childhood. But most of all, I want to expose myself to my fears in hopes of overcoming them. My fear is the root of all my problems, especially my rocky relationship with my parents, and if the only way to rekindle our family is to better myself, then that is exactly what I am going to do.
I jaywalk across the road until the soles of my sandals are sinking in the mulch that covers the path. I slow my steps, letting the alcove come into view in pieces. It is as if I am revealing the result of a jigsaw puzzle. First, I just see the edges, the framework of the landscape, including the canopy of oaks, the freshly cut grass, and the edge of the highway that leads to the bridge. Then gradually, the paramount sections become visible. Through a gap in the massive amount of trees, I see the surface of the river, the gentle current carrying the soft petals of the dogwood trees, just how I always remembered.
The low growl of a lawnmower fills my ears as I get closer, and as I step off the path into the grass, I notice that the recently cut blades are sticking to the exposed skin of my feet. It makes me happy knowing that someone makes it their duty to take care of a place that has always meant so much to me.
A few more steps brings me to the alcove that I grew up in. I let out a satisfied sigh, glancing up at the tangles of branches and leaves that partially shield me from the sun. I walk closer to the river and sit down on the grass, leaning back on my hands for support. The water ripples downstream, cascading over rocks and tree limbs that are stuck in the mud. The soft sound of the rushing water is music to my ears; a sound I didn't realize that I even missed. The memories of Ben flash through my mind, yet I force myself not to think about them too much.
I am just about to move closer to the water when the growl of the lawnmower approaches. My heart jumps when the noise of the machine comes to an abrupt stop, approximately twenty feet behind me. I slowly begin getting to my feet as the footsteps come toward me, soft in the grass. Seconds later, a large shadow looms above me. "Sorry, ma'am, I need to weed-eat the bank," the voice says kindly. "I would let you stay but I'm afraid you'll end up covered in grass."
"It's fine," I say quickly. I brush pieces of grass from the back of my shorts as I turn to face the driver, planning to offer him a thank you for taking care of the riverbank. My eyes have only settled on the face for a second before my heart falls into my stomach. That is all it takes.
The familiarity of his features is evident, even though it has been four years since I last saw his face. Those blue eyes are still wide and curious with every glance, yet his tousled blonde hair has since been tamed. At that moment, the shock in his sapphire gaze is all I can see.
My mouth falls open, searching for words as my eyes take in the expression on his face, noting that he looks happier than he does sad.
"Owen," I whisper, nearly breathless, just before he pulls me into his arms.
YOU ARE READING
Wilde Fire
Teen FictionEven after what Sidney Wilde's older brother did to their family those four years ago, she can't help but love him with every ounce of her heart. Which is why everyone around her is so concerned. Sidney has been stuck in a phase of loss and unhappin...