Cold Summer

Chapter Two

Florida

Melissa

"They were here and I let them go. They were here. They loved me. They made me feel better about myself. They were here. They made me laugh till my stomach hurt. They held me close when I shivered and cried. They were here. But they are gone. Just like that. They were in front of me; I'm the reason they left. I drove them far away. I pushed them away. I said the worst things at the greatest times and said the greatest things at the worst times. I did the right things in the wrong times and the wrong things in the right times. I am the villain in my story and the victim of my actions. My ego is my downfall. I'm alone. I'm a living, walking disappointment."

It's senior year and it's about to end. I've applied for college in Germany, I'm taking summer courses to teach me German, I need to be fluent, I think I'll be majored in Mechanical Engineering. My SAT scores were great, 1820 on SAT and 1430 on SAT Subject Tests. My GPA is somewhere between 4.02 and 4.3. My test grades are straight As except for Chemistry, it's the only B on my grade book. I don't know what exactly is my problem with Chemistry, but there is a problem that I wanted to solve, but it won't be effective if it stayed as it is. My friends aren't as busy as I am, my friends don't care that much about their grades since their SAT scores are great, they've sat back, relaxed, and chilled as if they're done with the year already. I've never been done with any year. My mother keeps saying that I am not so smart in my social life, but extremely smart in education. I learn fast and grasp academic information quickly.

I hand over my history exam paper to the teacher and exit the classroom. my next class is two hours later, so I go home to grab a bite.

On my way home I decide to take the long road from the beach take a stroll till I meet the street which I need to get to so I'd reach home, I see a guy's silhouette from the distance, he's painting I guess, he has a brush and is carefully moving it on the sheet standing before him, he has broad shoulders which are hunched up a bit adjusted so his arms and hands would move well, his hair is in short curls, his body seems well built, healthy build, but shaky, I slowly notice who he is.

"Gavin!" I call out, he nods his head in my direction, there's another brush in his mouth. He's so typical, like one of those crazy artists you see in movies, messy with himself, has a lot of thoughts and untamed demons, can lash out at you any second, is sick, creates original, inspiring and occasionally depressing art. But unlike all other artists, Gavin takes good care of himself, picks expensive and amazing clothes to wear, knows what fits his body and personality and eyes and hair and everything else that you need to match your clothes with. His smell is always sensational with all the branded perfumes he buys. He's always shaved and never looks like a mad scientist or the brilliant artist in a movie. He's got a dark side to himself, nevertheless he's the best company you can have, he doesn't speak much when he's upset or angry or allowing someone to grief. On his good days which are usually all his days except for Fridays, he speaks a lot, makes light conversations, funny ones who would leave you clutching your stomach from the pain you gain because of the hard laughter he causes the whole group sitting around. When it's really boring Gavin would get up and impersonate someone, anyone just for the sake of having something to do and the sake of entertaining the present people. Sometimes, he'd just randomly get up and sing and dance and gets everyone to their feet. He's the closest friend I have. It's just everything about that light head despite those heavily weighed shoulders that make him special. I don't know how can someone be so sick and feel pain constantly and have so much odds that don't serve his favor yet somehow he finds a way to smile, somehow he is not sad and he is not dark, somehow he is not the cliché you expect him to be.

I reach him and find what he's coloring to be somehow hypnotizing, it's filled with figures like whirlpools and spirals, like octopus tentacles, ones deeper than others going deep and deep in the wood, he likes carving and coloring. The background takes pastel powder colors, like spots, and each spiral takes a different color, some take stripes, he darkens depths creating shadows making it scary but inspirational, breathtaking. He's frowning which either means he's concentrating or he's upset and trying to contain his anger.