Fifteen years old...
The summer before going into year eleven was a glorious one. Every day seemed to be spent running around in the sweltering sunshine with careless abandon. The long days stretched the daylight hours, increasing the time we had to explore and play. Well, the days Harry wasn't too busy practicing or playing minor gigs with his band.
A couple months ago, Harry became friends with a group of guys. I don't really remember how it came to be or the specifics, but one thing lead to another and they asked Harry to join their band. They called themselves 'White Eskimo'. The first time Harry invited Matty and I to one of their practices, we were shocked at the fact that not only were they actually good, but Harry was surprisingly an amazing singer. We never knew he had that hidden talent and instantly became their number one supporters after that. We went to every gig and practice and we even convinced them to sign up for The Battle Of The Bands, which they ended up winning. Since then, they've been practicing nonstop and playing gigs over the summer.
But even though Harry was part of a band, we still remained a tripod. More than any other summer holiday I can remember, that one was great and merry. It was our last chance to be proper kids before heading back to school, turning sixteen and starting the gruelling lead-up to our GCSE exams. For the last time in our lives we were free from worries, responsibilities and expectations. It was a summer filled with smiles of contentment... for the most part, anyway.
We were a little bit older by then and our moms felt at ease about us going out independently, allowing us to go into the village on our own, as long as we promised to stay together and headed home before it got dark. Sometimes they'd make me bring my younger brother, Chris, with us. I didn't mind much because he wasn't a bratty little brother since he was only two years younger and usually just tagged along quietly, occasionally snagging some of our sweets every now and then.
Our parents implied they were doing us a favor by letting us go off on our own but, let's face it, we were a handful and it was a relief for them to get rid of us for a few hours when they could. There was only so much they could take of us being under their feet after they had been used to sending us off to school each day. With us out of their hair they were left to enjoy the peace that had only existed before we came into the world kicking and screaming.
Matty and Denise (the school's current golden couple) had frequently been found snogging each other's faces off whenever they had the chance during term time. Despite their keenness, though, they hadn't actually managed to see each other so far during that summer break. Instead, they had been texting almost every day and spent an hour every night on Skype. Much to Harry's and my disdain.
Our local park, to which we'd become regular visitors, had a variety of trees lining the pathways and clustered around its edges, most of which we'd succeeded in climbing. The boys had developed a little routine when it came to tackling their vertical beams, one that was aggravating to say the least. Essentially, they would clamber up as quickly as they could, perch from up high and grin down at me, heckling for me to start climbing. I had no doubt that Harry and Matty never saw my being a girl as something that made me a lesser human being, but when it came to climbing trees I was slower and more fearful, something that amused them. Now, I wasn't a girlie girl, I wasn't scared of getting grubby. I just wasn't overly keen on heights. Usually I overcame my fear and cautiously ascended, taking care not to look down until I was on a sturdy branch but, occasionally, if the tree just seemed too big and freaked me out, I'd decline the challenge and remain grounded, much to the boys' annoyance. I'd lie beneath the tree, basking in the gorgeous sunshine, ignoring the leaves and twigs that they playfully threw down at me until they got bored and descended, joining me at ground level.
Three weeks into our six weeks of freedom, we were once again in the park with the boys deciding what tree to take on.
"This one!" shouted Matty as he approached a sparse-looking beech tree, and started to fly up it with ease.
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in time // h.s.
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