That One Summer

Chapter One

I sat in my seat, fidgeting nervously. I had that last-day-of-school excitement that shook me to my core.

Mr. Jones was telling us on the first day of school of 10th grade a five page paper about our summer would be due. I wasn't listening. I could care less, but I tried to at least act like I cares because I was one of five people there and his giant, old, hawk eyes would flicker on me for seconds before moving on to another person.

It was third block. There were four more. Just four, and then I would be done with the 9th grade.

My purple Toms tapped the floor repeatedly in boredom. I sighed. My friend Piper had skipped today because she was leaving for Ohio for a couple weeks. What would I possibly do then?

"Sadie." Mr. Jones's voice was an old voice, one that had been through war and economic downturn, a voice that added to a saggy personality. "Are you listening?"

"To be honest, sir, I was not." I had been completely honest with my teachers all year, not a teacher's pet, never, but telling people like it is.

"Well," Mr. Jones said, unamused, "try to listen. It's a virtue." He tried to smile, but the dystrophy of his face muscles did not allow it. They only allowed a straight face, which was uncomfortable for a person used to frowning.  

The third period bell rang. Mr. Jones thanked us for a good year of learning, and I headed to choir. God, I will miss Mrs. Duck. This is her last year teaching choir and I knew she would get all emotional. She loved me-

There was a substitute.

I cursed under my breath.

She gave me a handout sheet on consonant pronunciation. I grabbed a pencil and sat down on the red and blue carpet near the cubbies, furiously filling out the form in silence.

There was only two others in the room. Grayson Williamson, a gay 10th grader with a boyfriend that "went to Jackson", and Abigail Quinn, a quiet Chinese freshman who I had Pre-AP Chemistry with. Grayson was listening to some Katy Perry and rocking out on air piano.

"Please get back to working," the sub said, scowling.

I looked out the large window that showed the courtyard. Trees swaying in a May breeze, and I could almost smell the magnolia flowers that bloomed by a pond that was a memorial to a girl who had died a couple years ago.  

Ross, the high school soccer team star, and some fan girl of his were making out by the pond, sitting on a dead girl'a rock.

"Wow," I thought, "might as well touch her boobs in a graveyard."

As I was deep in thought when the teacher called us over.

"I need your worksheets. The bell is about to-"

RING! RING! RING!

She took our sheets with a genuine scowl and dismissed us, throwing her hands up in the air.

Next, I had PE.

"Of course," I thought to myself when I saw the bored kids lined up against the bleachers, "nothing to do in yet another class."

At our high school, we only had to take PE one year, so I opted to take it the very first year I could. We spent most of our days playing volleyball, ping pong, and basketball, and maybe every few weeks we would do a mild workout or run a trail.

Coach Simpson was the biggest female I had every seen. She was not fat, no, it was all muscle. She could snap a spinal cord by flexing her pinky around it. I remember the time she told us her story.

"Fought in Iraq, Afghanistan, all these wars you hear about today." She said, acting as if these things were nothing. "Killed terrorists. Killed them good."

She looked up, a painful look in her eyes, and I thought she was having a flashback of an IED or something.

She draw in a heavy breath, "But most of all, I missed my partner while I was in Iraq. She would video call me and I would have cuts or bruises."

I suspected she had liked women all year, but I didn't know.

An office aide, Rachel Self, came in with the all-powerful check out slip. Whenever someone came in with a check out slip, everyone in the class tensed up. Even the smartest of the smart watched in pure awe even as the teacher continued teaching.

Rachel walked to the center of the gym, in her drama queen fashion, and unwrapped the paper like she was Effie Trinket.

"Sadie Freeman, your guardian is hear to check you out."

God, I hate her. Really? She's going to announce to my class that I don't live with my parents? I look around at the mixed-matched group of thirty girls that are sitting down, looking up at me. And then I leave.

I went by my old locker, 712, and got out my purse and English Binder. Everything else was at home.

I walked slowly, taking in the school. I wasn't leaving; I would be back next year. But I had so many experiences in the 9th grade that I will never forget. I will miss it in the 9th grade.

I got into my aunt's Chevy pick up truck and she sighed.

"You are growing up so fast. It seems like just yesterday I sent you off to middle school, weeks ago I sent you to kindergarten." She dabbed her eyes as we sat there, idling in the parking lot, her long, manicured nails tapping in rhythms on the dashboard.

"Why did you check me out?" I was really puzzled. I had always gone the last day of school, uninterrupted.

"You know your uncle is having an outpatient surgery today?" I nodded, and she continued, "I thought we could go pick him out some treats and go visit him. His lower back is going to be really sore from the shots."

"Oh." My voice had no emotion. Uncle Tanner was nice, he provided for me and all, but he was an aloof man; He spent most of his time at the firm in the city.

We cruised down the highway listening to the radio in silence. Some Imagine Dragons came on and I sang along, but except for the music and the hum of the car, it was quiet.

We stopped by Subway and got some sandwiches, and Aunt Julie told me about her bingo match the other night. She and a couple of her sorority friends meet up every other Wednesday and play bingo, talk about me, and eat snacks.

I was staring at the floor while she spoke, my mind in a daydream. Vinegar from the sub got on my jean jacket, and I wiped it up.

After that awkward lunch, we went to Target and bought some chocolate. I always thought that Uncle Tanner loved chocolate more than me, and maybe he even loved it more than Julie.

We also got some strange movies for no apparent reason from the sale section. They were all from the early 80's. She even got God of War 3 for PS3, even though I'm pretty sure the system in our basement is an Xbox.

To make up for my earlier silence, I told Aunt Julie about my day. I told her about the English project, and she laughed when I told her about Grayson's "piano" skills. Julie is not my mom-she is no where close, but she is pretty awesome. She put on some rap and we cruised, giggling, to the surgery center.

The surgery center looked more like a dentist's office. I had no idea surgeries could be performed outside a hospital, but I guess it could happen. I was taken back with Aunt Julie and we were told about what the procedure was.

Uncle Tanner had a small hernia in one of his lower vertebrae. They were going to prop in back in place with a gel implant. The shots were to toughen the implant with a chemical reaction.

"It's very low-risk procedure, and he will recover within nine months with physical therapy." The surgeon said with a smile.

"Geez," I thought, "this guy is creepy."

We left the prep room and went into the waiting room. Aunt Julie got a magazine out and I let my mind wander to other things. What was I going to do this summer? Who do I wanna be? You know, deep stuff like that.

That is when I saw him. He was beautiful. He had gray eyes; they were like a storm in his soul. His hair was brown like the fur of the fiercest, most shiny brown bear, wild and majestic.

And to think, our relationship started with me walking over, almost drunk in my infatuation, and simply letting a "Hello" slip out of my lips.