The Military Girl

Neighbor

In every single teen girl movie or book, there's a boy.

This boy shows up when she feels invisible and doesn't know what to do with her life.

I nearly thought that was never going to happen to me.

I go to church, I eat, I do school, I sleep, and I pay attention to famous people. My life is so simple.

My dad is in the military. That means I move every few years. About a year ago, I moved to South Carolina. Which, by the way, is the most boring state in all of the United States of America.

I live in a small neighborhood, not far from the military base. It's pretty boring. We go to church about five minutes away. It's a small church and everyone is overly friendly.

A man who goes to our church lives across the street from us. His name is Kenny Fredson. Obviously Mr. Kenny to me. He's the strangest man you'll ever meet. He's dead set against Halloween (Un-Christian, you know) and insists on a large, plastic Jesus statue in his front yard. Every once in a while, he'll stand outside and sing Aerosmith songs loudly until the five year old, Billy, down the street throws rocks at him.

He left about seven months ago then suddenly returned, and he wasn't alone.

My mom pressed her nose against the window and watched a moving vehicle stop in front of Mr. Kenny's house.

"What did Kenny do?" Mom said, mysteriously.

"Probably nothing." I said.

A moving truck is a well-known sight for a military brat. No big deal. Someone has been assigned a new duty station.

Of course, regular people and moving trucks don't normally mix.

"Oh! I see a woman!" Mom said. "And...There's a boy! Oh, he's tall! Maybe he's one of those stay-at-home-no-job types!"

"Mom, stop being so nosey." I flipped through Twitter.

"I'm going to go talk to them." She grabbed my arm. "And you're coming with, young lady."

"Mooooooom!" I didn't struggle. I just complained. I didn't want to leave my house. My house was a nice shelter. It kept me away from people I didn't want to talk to.

This was not ok.

"Kenny!" My mom yelled and waved as we crossed the street. "Kenny, how are you?" She asked.

"Hello, Maryanne!" Mr. Kenny was wearing a disastrous Hawaiian shirt and a bright pink sweatband. "I'm doing well. How about yourself?"

"Good. We were worried about you. You were gone so long."

"Just doing some missionary work in England."

I wanted to roll my eyes but I ignored the urge.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" Mom said. "You didn't miss much here. You know how the south moves."

"Indeed I do." Mr. Kenny smiled at me. "Olive, you look well groomed."

"Thank you..." I said, awkwardly. I wanted to go hide in my house.

"Kenny!" A woman came out of the house. "Kenny, honey, where do I put my nativity set?"

Honey? Don't tell me...

"I'll open up a place in a few minutes, sweetie." Kenny rubbed the lady's back. "Olive, Maryanne, this is my new wife, Patty."

"Oh." My mom said, suddenly unsure of what to say. "How nice. Patty, is it?"