Freshman

Florida?

Dani's POV

On my run today, my Mom asked if I would get the mail on the way back.

I head up the street to the mail box, and insert the key in box number 10.

I pull out the letters, and clutch them in my hand.

I lock the box again, twisting the key.

When I look up, a bush of blonde curly hair is inches from me.

"Abby?" I ask, and she looks up. She pulls out an earphone, and stares at me. Like she's seen a ghost.

"Hi Dani" she says, monotonously.

"How are you?" I ask, feeling pretty damn awkward.

"I've been okay" she says shortly. I feel a lump form in my throat.

I choke. "That's great, how's hockey season?" I ask, remembering that it started a while ago.

"It's been good, I made rep"

"Congratulations!" I say, hoping to sound enthusiastic for her.

"What level?" I ask.

"Double A" she answers, fiddling with her hair.

"That's amazing!" I comment. She smiles weakly.

Let me explain this, rep (or competitive has three levels for hockey in Ontario. "A" is for the kids tired of house league. "AA" is for kids who are better then "A" but not ready for "AAA". "AAA" is close to a professional level.

The fact that she made "AA" is already impressive.

"What about lacrosse? Are you trying out for rep?" She asks, and I shrug.

"I already play varsity, and rep was hard enough last year. But I might"

"You should" her encouraging me, even in the slightest makes me surprisingly happy. Lizzy would've told me to screw sports.

"Thanks" I reply, and Abby looks around.

"I should get going" she says and I nod.

"I should too" I back up and she nods this time.

"Glad to know you're doing okay" she says, sighing.

She nods, with her mail tightly clutched in her hand. "Bye"

"Bye Abby" I whisper.

___________

As I approach the house, I file through the mail.

Bill, bill, advertisement. Miami school of art?

Alysha Marie Jones

143 Maple Drive, Toronto Ontario.

She applied to art school?

"Alysha?" I yell, and she jogs down the stairs.

She stands in front of me, a few inches shorter then I am and a smile spread across her face.

"What's up?" She asks.

I hand her the envelope, "This came for you"

She flips it over, and reads it. An ear piercing scream shatters my ear drum.

"IT CAME!" She screamed. And looked ready to tear the letter open.

But she hesitates.

"What?" I ask. Mom and Dad jog down the stairs as well, and look concerned.