Why She Loved Summer

            She sat there gazing at the tall brick building. The rolling green soccer fields caught the setting sun's glow. The letters that sat atop the school reading, "Jackson Middle School," brought back memories from her time at the institution. She walked down the sidewalk and stood at the top of the hill. She slipped off her new Birkenstocks and nested her feet in the tall green grass. Summer was always her favorite season out of the four. It reminded her of happiness. It was also blazing outside. It was breaking records of how hot it was though, one of the downsides.

Eliza Green-Jennings was a smart girl, a hard-worker, generally a nice person, but sassy when necessary. But these were all things that she knew. What she didn't know was she was gorgeous. Almost everybody in her class knew this, except her. People had told her this before, but she didn't like being told so by everyone. The more people talked, the less she would pay attention or believe them. It's an odd thing. Every teenage girl would love to be told how beautiful they were. Everyone except Eliza. It didn't matter what she looked like to everyone, it only mattered how she looked to one person.

She sat down and eased herself on her back. The grass comforted her on the warm ground. It was probably about 96 degrees outside for the fourth day in a row. Eliza resorted to wearing a cheap tank-top and a pair of short denim shorts. She closed her eyes. The heat was almost relaxing for her. Her long dirty-blond hair flowed on the ground behind her.

Middle school. Three years of riding an emotional roller coaster of popularity and discovering yourself. Ever since the eighth grade, Eliza wished she hadn't discovered anything. She likes not to think about it. Eliza, still laying in the grass on the old soccer field, felt her face. It was hot. She slowly stood up, continuing feeling very relaxed, grabbed her shoes and walked home.

The doorknob to her house was hot. Like everything else around her. She was starting to get tired and annoyed with this heat. She slumped inside her house and up to her room. "Hey! Where are you going?" Her mother's booming voice rang throughout the house. "Get back here!" Eliza's stomach dropped as she cautiously stepped back down the main staircase. Her mother was waiting at the bottom. When Eliza arrived at the main floor, her mother was quick and grabbed her ear in her toxic clutch. Dragging her to the kitchen, Eliza was on the brink of tears, helpless from her mother's abusive reign over her miniscule life. They both entered the kitchen and Eliza's mother released her. "Do you see this?" She gestured over to the counter where a lone plate sat with few crumbs from last night's dinner. "This morning I told you to deal with this plate from yesterday. And yet it still sits her on the countertop!" She stepped closer to Eliza. Her voice got low, "Now when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do so. Now therefore, this kitchen needs to be cleaned. And you will stay up as long as it takes to do so. I will be upstairs," She took another step closer to Eliza. Eliza started breathing very heavily. Her mother pulled her by the collar of her shirt, "Don't be so loud this time, okay? Okay." And with that her mother threw her to the ground. Eliza had endured this more than she should. She cast her hands around her head to try to muffle the pain. It didn't work. She heard her mother's footsteps echo up the stairs then the bedroom door slam shut.

A moment of silence blanketed the house. Eliza lay on the floor, the tears that were perched behind her eyes came pouring out. She remembered how she felt laying on the grass on the field at the school. The warm grass surrounding her. All her pain had left her when she was there. That's why she loved the summer. Summer. She got up and walked to the closet. The door swung open slowly and it was dark. She slowly stepped in and flipped on the light. It hit her like a ton of bricks and she had to squint to see. Her denim jacket hung lonesome in the closet. She pulled it off the hook and held it close. It smelled of vanilla perfume. Eliza smiled to herself through the tears. She reached into the right pocket of the jacket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. A picture.