The Bucket List {On Hold/Rewriting/Editing}

Chapter Two: Jameson

'I wasn't an ordinary child. My parents called me extraordinary. Everyone else called me strange. I was strange because I was quiet. I preferred watching the kids on the playground over playing with kids on the playground.
I had to have structure in my life. I didn't have any disorders or anything, I just was strange. I liked to know exactly what I was doing and when I was going to do it. If I was going to go anywhere, I had to know every little detail, which resulted in me not going many places with friends. You have to have friends to go places with them.
My lack of social skills caused my family to be worried. My sister, Corona, had no issues being social. She'd be playing soccer or tennis while I'd be writing. I loved to write, writing was a passion of mine.'
-
"Why do you write all the time, James?" My twenty-four year old sister asked.
"When I get old and lose my memory, I want to remember what my childhood was like." I answered, continuing to write.
"Jameson, you're thirteen years old, not forty. Live a little, have fun!" Corona pushed my shoulder.
"Writing is fun, Corona. I love to write." Corona sighs, plopping onto the chair next to me. I keep writing, pausing to think before writing again. A loud sigh distracts me. "Do you mind?"
"Come on, James!" Corona slides out of her chair, kneeling beside me. "For once in the history of sibling-hood, I am begging you! Please entertain me, let's play a game, anything!"
"Only if we play Life." I close my notebook.
"Deal!" Corona stands up and grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet.
An hour later, we finish the game.
"I am the Life champion!" Corona yells, dancing around the room.
"Not fair!" I cross my arms. "You were a doctor and I was a lousy teacher! Your salary was at least double mine."
"All is fair when I'm the winner." Corona laughs, starting to clean the game up. I toss a pillow at her.
"Cheater." I pout.
"What did you call me?" Corona looks up at me, a challenging look in her eyes.
"I called you a cheater." I say slowly, like I'm the older sibling instead of being the younger one.
"You, Jameson Elijah Young," Corona pauses, "are dead!" I stand up, running as fast as I can outside. "Come back here, you little monster!"
"Never!" I look for a hiding place. A tree. Perfect. I scramble up the tree, scratching my knees a few times against the rough bark.
"You're the cheater! You know I stink at climbing trees."
"Not cheating, playing to my advantage." I taunt, sitting on a branch.
"You wait until I get up there." Corona starts climbing up the tree, struggling to get a grip on the tree.
"I may be twenty by the time you get to the first branch." I climb up another branch.
"Come on, James. Climb down, please?" Corona is a few branches below me.
"Keep climbing? Okay!" I climb up another branch, the branches getting thinner.
"This isn't funny, James. I feel like I'm going to fall."
"Okay, I'm climbing down." I start climbing down, freezing when I hear a snap.
"James!" Corona screams. My foot brushes against a branch and it cracks, falling to the ground. "Be careful!" I grip the branch, stretching my foot out for a branch. It turns out, there isn't a branch. "James!" I fall to the ground, hitting the ground with a thud.
-
I rolled the wheelchair back into the hospital room.
"How did the X-ray look?" Mom asked. I shrug, rolling over to the bed. I grab my walker and stand up, shuffling to get into the bed. I've been at the hospital for over a week. It took me a day to wake up from the fall and I didn't remember much. The doctors said I had a sufficient amount of injuries, ranging from a concussion to broken bones.
"Are you feeling okay?" Corona asked. She's been scared to be close to me since the fall, scared she'd break me again. She took the blame for the fall, insisting it was her fault and not mine. I nodded at her question. I still had difficulties talking from how hard I hit my head, so I saved my energy for questions I couldn't answer with a movement of my head or hands.
"Are you thirsty?" I nodded at Mom's question. I took the cup from her, offering a half smile. I drank from the cup, setting it back onto the table. I grabbed the marker off the table and drew on my left leg cast. I had shattered my knee when I fell, so now my leg was my personal sketchbook.
"Good morning, everyone." Doctor Andrew walked into the room. "How are you feeling, Jameson?" I give him a thumbs up. "How's your talking doing?"
"It.. It is okay." I pause. "Could be b.. better."
"But it could also be worse. Your speech has improved amazingly. Now, about your leg. It looks like you could go back to school next week." Doctor Andrew sits in his chair. I quickly shake my head, wincing.
"Easy, James." My mom rubs my shoulder. I scoot away from her.
"You could be on crutches next week if you're up to it. The sooner you leave the hospital, the sooner you'll be on crutches. Then you could be walking without any assistance after a month." I grab my notebook and scribble down a question.
'What if I'm not ready?'
"If you aren't ready, that's for you and your parents to discuss." Doctor Andrew stands up. "Will tomorrow be a good day for you to leave the hospital?"
"Tomorrow will work. Thank you, Doctor." Mom nods. When the doctor leaves, I write another question.
'Where's Dad?'
"Dad's at work. He said he couldn't get any time off." Corona answered before pulling her phone out, typing away on her phone. "I hate to leave, but Ryland had something come up and he needs me." I roll my eyes at Ryland's name. Ryland was Corona's boyfriend. They've been dating for about five years now but we haven't gotten along yet. Ryland is one of the many people who think I'm odd, but I could say the same about him.
'I'm going to nap now. Wake me up in two hours. Five o'clock on the dot.'
"Okay, Mr. Perfectionist. Take your nap." I glare at Corona before turning the light off, the windows giving off the only light in the room. I close my eyes and take deep breaths while counting, falling asleep before I hit thirty.
-
'School was quite possibly the worst thing I've ever experienced. The broken leg drew an uncomfortable amount of attention to me. People who didn't even talk to me tried to sign my cast, carry my books, and offered to eat lunch with me. I refused.
I was still that weird kid they avoided every other day of my life, so why is this any different? It isn't. I went through the day feeling like I was a new animal at the zoo and everyone else was here to watch.
The next day, everything started to die down. Within a week, I was the same weird kid, I just had a cast this year. When the cast was off and the crutches had been returned, it was like nothing had happened. I'm still the outcast, I just had a limp now. But then something strange happened. I made a friend.'
-
"Hey." A voice spoke. I looked up, seeing a boy with dark skin and hair.
"Hi." I moved my backpack in case he wanted to sit next to me. For once, someone did. He sat next to me.
"I'm Trey." Trey sat his backpack down.
"I'm Jameson." I took a drink from my thermos. "Where'd you come from?"
"Miami. It's different here. Have you always lived here?" I nodded at his question.
"I've always lived in Atlanta. We've moved houses a lot but we always stay in Atlanta." I reached into my bag, taking out a bag of chips. I opened the bag and set it between us, offering it to Trey. He accepted my offer, taking a few chips.
"We moved because Mom got a new job. She was a great welder in Miami, but Atlanta offered a better job with better pay." Trey continued talking about his family and his past life in Miami and for once, I didn't get bored. Trey was different. But a good different. He wasn't like the boys here, he actually was interesting.
"You really had four sisters?" I asked in disbelief. I could barely stand my one sister.
"And two brothers. I was the middle child." Trey nodded. I stood up when the bell rang, signaling that our break was over. "Where do we go now?"
"We go to Mr. Jones. He's our English teacher. All the boys have him, the girls have Mr. Peters." I picked up Trey's backpack and handed it to him before grabbing my own.
"When's gym? I really love soccer." Trey follows me to the English classroom.
"Not until the end of the day. I think you and my sister would get along. She loves soccer. But she's a lot older. She's twenty-four."
"My oldest sister isn't even that old. My oldest sister is sixteen. Mom had us all a year apart. And Mom is only thirty-one." I opened the door for Trey, following behind him. I take my seat in the back row next to the wall. Trey sits down beside me, putting his glasses on.
"Good morning, class. Who's ready to learn about the wonderful subject of English." Multiple groans sounded throughout the room. "Today we'll do something easy. Just write about yourself. Tell me what I need to know about you so I can make this class enjoyable for you. Tell me anything you like. Once you finish, you can continue your conversations as long as you don't get above a dull roar." Mr. Jones sat down at his desk, a sign to start working. It takes me a minute to get an idea, but once I get my idea, not even the end of the world could stop me.
-
'Hi. My name is Jameson Elijah Young. You've taught me before but you don't really know me. First thing I think you should know is that I'm weird. An outcast. I finally made my first friend today. And I'm going to be absent tomorrow because I have to go back to the doctor. I fell out of a tree two weeks before school and managed to accumulate several injuries. I'm glad I fell out of the tree because if I hadn't, my sister would've and I couldn't live with that guilt. I'm sorry I don't contribute much to your class. I do know the answers to what you are asking, I just don't want the attention that answering a question draws to you. I'll try to be better in your class and I promise if you don't give up on me, I won't give you a reason to give up on me.
Sincerely, Jameson Young.'

So, welcome to chapter two! This is a new writing style for me. The italics is a flashback. The normal text is current. Jameson's text "in quotes, like this" is him writing, which is how his point of view is told. Kingsley tells her voice through a video while Jameson does the same through writing. The italics are memories.
If you liked it, please vote, comment, and add to library/reading list.

1844 words