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Picture: Brooke Rodney


The blank pages of the songbook stare at me, and I stare back. I watch the stark white paper and they watch my anxious, fleeting eyes. I'm sitting on the porch swing, a cup of hot coffee in my left hand, and a pink fountain pen in my right. The half-filled songbook rests on my lap, basically taunting me.

I groan and lean my head back against the wooden swing. It's only been a few days since I've talked to Hayes about writing a song for her dad, but the knowledge that it's July 1st just fills me with anxiety. I feel like I'm running out of time before I've even started.

But my mind is just about as blank as the pages. After mom's death, I just haven't been able to find the inspiration I need, and no matter how hard I try, I still just can't find it. South Carolina used to be my prime source of inspiration, too. Granted, I usually wrote when I was out and about, not just sitting on my porch.

I stare at the book a few more moments when Lucas comes outside and joins me on the swing. His brown hair is wet from a shower he had just taken, and I flinch as he shakes like a dog, water getting all over me. I shove him off the swing and laugh, closing the book subtly. I tuck it behind my back. Having Lucas or anyone for that matter know that I'm writing again will only stress me out more.

He picks himself up off the ground and brushes his shorts off. He puts a hand on my head and ruffles my hair. "I'm heading to town to grab some donuts. Is there anything you want?" he asks, and just as I'm about to say no, I stop myself. I pause and think about the colorful streets, filled with colorful people, breathing in the colorful air. I wanted inspiration, right?

"How about I just come with?" I say, and Lucas cocks his head, a small smile teasing at his lips. "Really?" he says, and I nod. "Yeah, I'd like to. I'll probably just roam around for a bit," I explain, and he seems to think about this. He smiles and turns around, prancing down the wooden steps of the porch. "I'm leaving now, get in or I'm letting you stay behind," he says, and I laugh. I stand up, tuck the book and pen into my bag, and get into the passenger seat.

The drive is the same as it always is. 8 minutes of green - green trees, bushes, fields - and then you hit town. The green turns into rainbows as I look at all of the shops and people, most tourists at this time. I've been through here a few times this summer so far, but it still holds my attention every time. Lucas pulls into the donut shop parking lot, and I grab my bag off the car floor. I pull my hair to one side of my neck and hop out of the tall truck - a struggle for me.

Lucas and I meet each other in front of the car, and he locks it, then shoves the key in his pocket. "So when do you want me to come back for you?" he asks, and I shrug. "I'll text you. Maybe I'll ask Hayes, we'll see," I debate, and he nods. He starts heading towards the shop's door and flashes me a quick bright smile. "I love you, stay safe," he says. I grin back at him and shoot a playful evil glare.

"Never."


After nearly thirty minutes of walking around town, I start to feel the hope I had leak out of my heart. I have returned to every place I had once felt inspiration at, but have felt absolutely nothing. No spark of an idea, no string of lyrics writing themself across my brain as if I were watching them on a screen. Just blankness. Tears start to well in my eyes. Not because I'm upset I can't write a song, but because losing that ability my mother and I once shared is one of the most painful things to latch onto.

Just as I'm about to pull my phone out of my back pocket and text Lucas to pick me up, I glance to my right. My gaze holds onto someone else's. A girl about my age, maybe a bit older, is staring back at me from across the street. Her hair is black, so black that it must have been dyed. If I'm seeing correctly, she has streaks of blue on the underside of her long hair, and sharp green eyes that resemble a cat's.

While her appearance is a bit out of the norm, nothing about her seems unapproachable. While her eyes are sharp and attentive, something about them is captivating and alluring. Her clothes while dark in color are trendy and loose against her slim body. She seems scary but in a nice way?

I hold her gaze, and she squints. After a moment, her face lights up as if she's recognized an old friend. She looks both ways across the street and walks in the crosswalk towards me. I stand there in shock. Is she coming to approach me? Apparently so. As soon as she reaches this side of the street, she jogs up to me and smiles. Upon closer inspection, I see pale pink eyeshadow that's blended carefully on her eyelid and a nude color lipstick. She seems softer up close.

"Hey, you're Devyn King, right?" she asks, and I blink, taken aback. She knows my name? I take a step back, and she must notice I look surprised because she laughs and puts a hand on my arm.

"Sorry, you probably don't recognize me. I've changed a lot from when we were kids. It's Brooke Rodney, remember? We played all the time," she explains and I stare at her blankly. I can't say I recall a Brooke. But I had a lot of friends here as a kid, and if she recognizes me, she must have been one of them. I haven't changed anything significant about myself since then.

"I used to be blonde," she laughs, pointing to her slightly lighter roots. I think for a moment more and decide that maybe I do vaguely remember a blonde girl named Brooke. It wouldn't surprise me.

I smile at her and say, "Yes, I vaguely remember you. How have you been?" I might as well act like I know her. I don't want to hurt her feelings by not recognizing her as she does me. She grabs my arm and pulls me over to a small iron table outside a candy shop. We sit down on the two chairs provided, and I find myself still shocked. She's much friendlier than she originally came off.

"Oh, you know. Growing up is tough, but everyone knows that. The switch from childhood to near adulthood was a bit rough, but I've been just fine," she explains, and I nod, almost unsure of what to say. I feel so guilty for not remembering her when it's so clear how much she remembers me. "So what about you? Have any friends you hang out with around here?" she asks. My mind should go directly to Hayes at this question, but the only person that pops into my head is Ace. I shrug, starting to settle more in my chair, a bit more relaxed.

"I wouldn't say that. A couple, but not many," I answer, and she grabs my cellphone out of my hand. I sit stunned and watch as she types something into it. She hands it back to me with a smile. "I put my number in. Text me, we should hang and catch up more," she says, standing up. I stand up too and return the smile. "I will," I reply, and she leans in for a hug. I embrace her without hesitation and she starts to walk off. "See you later, Devyn!" she calls and I smile. "Bye!"

I may not have gotten the inspiration I wanted today, but a new friend never hurts.


I sit on my bed, the only light in my room being the lamp I've had here my whole life. I stare yet again at the blank pages of the songbook, my damp hair from my recent shower resting on my shoulders. I slam it closed in frustration and slide in under the covers. A ding rings on my phone, and I grab it off my bedside table. A notification from Hayes greets me.

"Let's get together tomorrow for a surf :)"

I respond with a thumbs-up and flick my light off. I set my phone on its charging port and toss the songbook onto my window seat. I flip over under the covers and stare outside at the moon. As I start to drift off, I can't help but think of how much I'd rather be out with Ace doing a crazy adventure right now than being in bed. I'm too tired to push away these intruding thoughts, and instead, let them stay there. I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

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