The Sixteenth Summer

Chapter 2

He laughed without much humor, and I actually took in his features for the first time.

I was surprised.

He was on the shorter side, about 5'7, five inches taller than me probably.

He had dark brown hair, that was longish in the front, cut attractively, and it was shiny and smooth looking. His eyes were a bright icy blue, a stark contrast to his dark brown hair, and they were set in a lighter colored face, with a few freckles under his eyes. His eyes were framed by thick, long dark eyelashes, the kind a girl would kill for. He was at least sixteen, maybe older. He had higher cheekbones, and fairly average lips, which were currently pulled into a tight smirk.

"What are you doing?" I sighed, rolling my eyes. I was no longer agitated, just, bored.

"Well," he said taking a step forward, "I was just enjoying the day."

"As was I, until I was rudely interrupted by some strange boy too rude to introduce himself."

I said turning away, looking down at my tattered Converse.

When I looked up he was standing in front of me again.

How does he do that? I wondered, looking around.

"Mighty sorry ma'am, my name's Elijah."

He said, imitating my voice. Perfectly. How does he do that?

"I don't appreciate that." I said, attempting to make fun of him.

"You sound like an ATM."

"I sound like you!"

I said, exasperated.

"Whatever."

I rolled my eyes, examining him, from his T-Shirt that said The Clash, down to his dark jeans, and finally down to his dirty hi-tops.

I rolled my eyes again, as a gust of wind came by, blowing his hair across his face, and painfully whipping my hair across mine.

"Care to explain...why you're here?"

"Well," he began, as I started walking towards my house off in the distance, expecting him to follow," I moved in with my aunt about a mile down, about a week ago, and I was just exploring."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Did you move in with your aunt?" I said irritably. I don't like him, already.

"My parents died." I stopped for a second, suddenly feeling like a jerk, then kept walking.

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I'd say it was OK, but really it's not." he said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

"I know." We walked in silence for a little while.

　

"I'm sorry." I said stopping.

"Hmm?" He was no longer behind me, he was beside me.

"I'm sorry. I was rude. I never introduced myself. My name is Annabelle. And I am sorry about your parents, I didn't mean to be insensitive."

He shrugged, and we kept walking.

Eventually we were nearing my house.

I turned to tell him he needed to go home, but when I looked back, he was gone.

Huh. That's weird. I didn't hear him go. He must of just turned around and went back home. How strange. What a weird kid.

I opened my back screen door, and stepped inside to my soft yellow kitchen.

"Hi Mom."

"Hey Ann" She said smiling, looking up from the spaghetti she was stirring on the stove. Her face shined and I could see an older version of myself reflected back at me. There were light age lines around her mouth, but she looked much younger than she was. Her face always lit up when she smiled. I couldn't help but smile back.

I walked down the long hallway, whose walls were littered with family photos, down to my room.

I sighed.

"Aaron, get off my bed." I said, sighing at my thirteen year old brother, who was sprawled out on my bed, my iPod in his hand.

"Annnaaaa."

"Out Aaron."

"Are you gonna write in your diary about boys again?" He said smirking.

"AARON get out!"

He stuck his tongue out at me.

I rolled my eyes.

I smiled.

"You are so immature."

"Whatever."

He left my room, shutting the door behind him.

I sighed and stared up at my Led Zepplin poster on the ceiling of my room.

The light blue walls were entrancing, and reminded me of the sky. I guess that's kinda why I painted them like that.

Eventually sometime I fell asleep.