Uplifting

Chapter One

    I walk into class and sit in the very back. I don't like being the center of attention. Sitting in the back allows me to focus on more than just the teacher. I can see everything from back here. I can see the couple on the left of me passing notes as if the people around them don't notice the constant laughter and smirks. Most importantly I can see her. Writing in her journal of course. Christina is quiet and keeps to herself. She's the type of girl that doesn't speak unless spoken to.

   However, she doesn't seem like that if you truly listen to the message she's trying to get across to you. Most of her writing is about love. Some about life. But it all seems to be about personal experience. I couldn't write as good as her to save my life. It just doesn't come naturally for me.

   I'm more of a science kind of guy. Astronomy is my getaway. When I was nine my father bought me a telescope. Every Saturday night, He and I used to go out and look at the stars and argue over constellations. When I was twelve, my father was killed. It was never really the same after that. I still go out to the backyard every Saturday and I look up to the stars. Same place. Same telescope.

    I could never write about my personal experiences. Not because I'm afraid to show emotion, but because I don't know the words to describe them. Not in the way she does. She's like a thesaurus. Any word I think she's gonna say in her writing, she seems to pick a different one that flows a million times better. Every Wednesday, when we have journal presentations, she blows my mind, leaving me speechless.

   I watch as she quickly puts her notebook in her bag and stands up. I jump at the unexpected bell. I hurriedly grab my stuff, rest it in my arms, grab my bag and lunge it on my shoulder. I walk out quickly hoping to get once last glance at her for the day, but instead I get a facefull of Patrick.

   Patrick Rogers has been not only my best friend, but my neighbor as well, for about fifteen years now. Our mothers were best friends and still are to this day. He's a very supportive person. I tell him the majority of situations I go through. Not in too much detail however. He doesn't see the world in the same way that I do.

   "You still trying to get with Chris," he asks, "Don't give up. That's the last thing you should do".

   Truth is I don't think it's even possible for me to give up on her. I've been in love with her for years, and that's not something you can just give up on.

   I quickly change the subject and continue walking.

    "So how was Psychology?" I ask.

   "It was okay. Mrs. Crude seemed to be on her monthly woman time. So she gave us an essay on the functions of each part of the "brain".

   "Damn", I laugh. "That's intense."

    "Yeah but it's whatever", He softly says. "How was Waftle's class?"

    "Uh", I frantically panic as I try to reflect on something from that class other than the beautiful angel across the room. "Oh, she gave us this poem assignment. Write about something that inspires you."

    "What are you gonna write about"?

    "Probably just my dad. As usual."

    "Sounds good" he smiled.

    We exchange goodbyes as we walk out of the huge exit and enter the parking lot. I slowly walked towards my black truck and got in it. The ride home ends up being filled with the everyday Cheap Trick classics and awesome shades.

    I enter my driveway to find my mother sitting by the garden picking weeds. We exchanged quick smiles as she hands me her shopping list. Milk, Bread, Butter, Chocolate Syrup and Cheese. Which signals to me that she'll be making me grilled cheese with chocolate milk for dinner. Grilled cheese was a common meal in the McCune household. Something about two crisp brown tinted pieces of bread filled with warm melted cheese.

    I go inside, upstairs to my room, put down my bag, plop on my bed and I just lay. I begin to enter a portal of intense thoughts. About her of course, but then again, when do I not think of her. Just the image of her perfect brown hair brings back memories.

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   I walk past the prolonged row of desks that would potentially belong to my fellow classmates for the next twelve years of school. About three desks to the right of the large brown door, is a desk with the name tag "Scotty McCune". I placed my Spiderman backpack on the rack attached to the bottom of my desk. I was feeling very misplaced considering my partner in crime was all the way across the room. I didn't even get a chance to show him my first day of school socks.

  The teacher walked to every student sitting in their seat and introduced herself to avoid any feelings of isolation. And it was then, in that very moment that something caught my eye. The prettiest girl I've laid eyes on. I didn't know that at the time of course. I always thought girls were gross, until I saw Christina that is. There was something about her big blue eyes that made me smile non stop. Something about the pink dress and the tan sandals that fit her small feet. It's the little things. I noticed how her toenails were almost the exact color of her dress. I noticed the small rubber bands securing the long brown braids on each side of her head. I loved her smile. I remember thinking it was so beautiful even though she was missing a front tooth. I loved it. I loved the sound of her voice as she introduced herself while taking a seat in the blue chair next to me. I remember the joy that came to me as the teacher announced that we'd be sitting in these seats for the entire year. I got to sit next to the prettiest girl in the class. All the other boys wanted to sit next to her and I remember feeling superior to them, and for once during that whole day, not because of my socks. I remember asking her for a glue stick even though my cautious mother packed two in my crayon box.

   This was my first crush, and though my six year old self was inexperienced in this field, there was just something about her. I intended to spend as much time as needed figuring out what that something was.

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   After getting up and slowly walking into the kitchen I'm greeted by the shopping list I accidentally ignored. I decide to just go and get it over with. I get back into my car and take the five minute drive to the local supermarket. I manage to snag a parking spot in the middle of the parking lot due to the abundance of cars gathered by the entrance due to the unexpected thunderstorm. After parking my car and grabbing the umbrella that my mother left in the backseat in case this sort of thing happened, I open my door and begin to walk. As I approach the doors I notice a curly haired girl sitting to the left of me. I begin to feel a large wave of sadness as she is sitting there, wet hair and clothes. The covered shelter isn't doing her too many favors. She appears to be waiting for a ride. I walk up to her and tap on her shoulder. She turns her head. It's the love of my life with makeup running down her soft cheeks. At first, distinguishing whether she's crying or the rain has washed away her makeup was perplexing, then her puffy eyes became noticeable.