The Label Maker

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMER HEAT

The school year was approaching fast. With only four days of summer left, Gwen was left running all over town for last minute school supply shopping. The New Mexico summer heat was at it's high. Even in late August, the temperatures soared past seventy degrees. By noon she, along with everyone else in Lincoln County was dripping of sweat. The hum of air conditioners filled the downtown area along with the occasional bark of a dog, laugh of a child, and even the honk of a horn.

As Gwen emerged from the local Wal-Mart with three shopping bags full of notebooks, binders, and pens, her school shopping was complete. Struggling to keep all three bags secure and off the ground, she fished out her mom's car keys from the front pocket of her capris. Unlocking the back seat, she threw her bags in. She climbed into the front seat and wiped her hands on her pants. Her hands were sweating more than any other part of her body. Whether it was pre-senior year nerves, or simply the heat, her hands were sticky making it hard to grasp the steering wheel. Her flip flops squeaked whenever she pressed her foot down on the gas and brake. Not being able to stand the noise, she turned the radio on. The radio was tuned to an old rock station. The current song didn't disgust Gwen, so she let the music play. To pass the time at each eternal stop light, she began to tap her fingers to the melody of the song. Before she knew it, she was singing along to the familiar songs as well. She's heard most of the songs from her dad, for he listens to nothing but classic rock.

The drive back to the house was longer. Gwen figured it was because of the heat. It must be getting to her head. As long as the car's air conditioning works, she'd make it. If that broke, the last resort would be opening the windows and that is something she hates to do. The noise is overbearing. Without glasses, she has a hard time keeping her eyes open, and her hair, no matter how it is secured, flies everywhere. For now, she settled with a little sweat, a blasting AC, and blaring radio. After fifteen more minutes of driving, Gwen made it home. Parking her mom's car at the curb where it always stays, she turned the engine off. Not wanting to bake in the car any longer than she had to, she hopped out right away. Turning to the back seat's door she flung it open wide enough to have easy access to her bags. Reaching down to grab a fallen notebook, her arm grazed the seat buckle. She yanked her arm away and squealed in pain. She swore under her breath. It was just what she needed at the moment. Careful not to touch anything else that had the possibility to burn her, she retrieved her remaining bags and fallen items without another scratch.

Barely even making it to the driveway, Gwen was pushed to the ground, her notebooks shortly following suit.

Jerk, she immediately thought. Shielding her face from the blinding sun, she looked up at the jerk who shoved her to the ground. It was a shirtless boy who was glistening. Behind him, the sun was glowing giving the illusion that his skin was the color of gold. Gwen refused to see him as such. In her eyes he was just a sweaty, sticky, pubescent teenage boy. A wave of disgust washed over her as she felt something sticky in her hair: gum. She let out a groan.

"I'm sorry about that. Here, let me help you up," the boy offers. Gwen stuck out her hand and the boy pulled her back onto her feet.

"It's fine," Gwen says.

"I can't tell whose hands are more sweaty; yours or mine," the boy jokes. She didn't find it funny. She didn't even attempt to acknowledge the poor joke. "I'm Leo," Leo introduces, trying to break the tension.

"Gwen," she informs, slowly. The boy's sweat was disgusting her. She hates sweat, especially when it's someone else. Trying to hide her uneasiness, she decides to talk.

"So are you new to the neighborhood?" She asks, putting on a smile.

"I moved here three weeks ago," he answers, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"From where?" Gwen asks next.

"Antarctica," He answers plainly. Gwen nearly choked on spit.

"You're kidding," she states.

"I'm dead serious. My dad's a wildlife researcher. He was studying penguins and seals for three years with other scientists," he explains, squinting from the sunlight.

"That's actually really cool," she admits, regretting that she called him a jerk earlier.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss the cold. This heat is unbearable," he shares.

"You're crazy," she teases, laughing.

"So I've been told. If you ever want to meet up and learn more about it, I live like eight houses down," Leo tells her.

"Are you going to school at Riverbrook?" She asks next.

"I am," he confirms.

"Cool." She didn't know what else to say. If she stood outside for another minute she was going to melt.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Gwen. I'll see you around," Leo discloses, stepping to the side. He picks up her Wal-Mart bags and hands them to her. She completely forgot about them.

"Thank you," she thanks.

After he was far enough away from her, she turned and made her way towards her open garage. When she got inside, she placed her school supplies on the kitchen island. The house was quiet. Not even Scrump, her cat, came to great her. Wondering where everybody was, Gwen ventures upstairs. She was excited to tell her brother about the new boy from Antarctica, but as she reached the stairs' landing, her desire to share the news disappeared. Farrell was locked in his room with earsplitting loud music. And her parents were in their own room, voices even louder than her brother's music. They were fighting... Again. Not wanting to know what they were fighting about this time, Gwen turned for her brother's room. Without knocking, she entered. Even with his music on maximum volume, he was fast asleep on his bed. And next to him was Scrump. Kicking off her flip flops, she crawled into the bed with her brother. She hoped for the worst to blow over. But as school started back up again, things only got worse.