SCRATCHED

Chapter 16

Summer 2017, Raven.

The gleaming days came with seraphic sights. Winds blew calmly, speaking languages known to those who often stepped out of the haunting walls of their houses. Sometimes they didn't speak, they sang. And that was her favorite part.

Stepping outside hugging three heavy books, it dawned on her that she didn't know what day it was. And it didn't matter. In Summer, especially where they lived, every day was beautiful.

Kara walked farther from the house, to the bench that had a touch of the heaviness of her books almost every morning. Whenever she got sick, which was rare, it would be her bed. Books, like life itself, were an every day thing.

Her spot was as usual: empty. It was her favorite place; a place she had tagged to be the best spot in the house, or even the entire neighborhood. Often she would see strolling coupes stop by, inhale the beauty and take a picture or two, or the young lady whose family she had heard just moved in by the other side. But she hardly stayed there for up to five minutes. But like Kara, she was there every morning. Other than that Kara had the place and its heavenly expanse all to her curious self.

Most of the time, she had a feeling of being drawn to the place, like she didn't chose it, but it chose her. Sometimes, mostly during summer, amazing things happened. Like when she lifted her hand to turn a page and a zephyr would waft and the next page would smile at her.

It would surprise her, especially after happening for the second or third time in one morning, but eventually she learned to smile back.

The engine of her dad's Audi roared to life. And ironically, she looked forward it every morning. It was unlike his old Station Wagon, which made way too much noise. One second it emitted a low cry and the next it was humming with the morning.

Henric stepped out of the house fully dressed, a basketball locked between his arm and waist.

"Go away Henric," she said, flipping a page.

"You know, I'm more of a physicist than you are."

"And how's that?" She played along with his morning tradition of disturbing her.

"You read it. I practice it," he said, showing her the ball.

Behind him she could see her dad's face. She smiled. "If you don't want dad to practice his ten years of martial arts on your face, I suggest you get going."

He honked, as if proving her point, and Henric sprinted away with a smirk.

She could never forget the first morning of summer, when the computer blooped and their dad clicked Henric's acceptance letter into appearance. That morning Henric didn't eat. He had walked outside, near the shades of the trees and practiced, mumbling stuff about how it important it was to be 'ready for action' every five seconds.

There was not an ounce of love for basketball in her heart, or for sports generally, but that day she had joined him. She felt happy for him, but sad he had a few weeks to leave for the academy.

They conversed in the morning light, quietly asking themselves what business Freddie had at the other side of the neighborhood and why he wasn't at his desk staring into his laptop like the rest of the mornings. She got to touch a basketball, and got blatantly surprised at how heavy it was. She kept dropping it, or making low shots after channeling all her strength. Henric had a laugh.

Max came out walking that day instead of running, probably saddened by the inevitable end of their morning games with Henric. They never ran out of them, and they sometimes invented their own, but Max never allowed any game that had a basketball in it. Only Henric had that object in his blood. No one else.