Summer Birdie

A for...

It's hot.

Wispy clouds lazily drift by the bright blue sky as cicadas shrill in the distant fields beyond the backyard. The fence surrounding it seem tiny when staring up at the vast skies. A gentle breeze brushes past the wind chime letting it ring softly.

It's hot.

You turn your head to the wads of paper in your hand. You were going to start your second grade at the end of the summer and your teacher had assigned you extra English homework. You never had such a strong feeling of resentment for a teacher before. All your homework was done except this one. You hear the porch door slide open and see your mother standing there with a tray of watermelon slices and two glasses of freshly made lemonade, garnished with mint leaves and ice.

"Don't scrunch up your homework like that." Your mother sighs, placing the tray down and taking the pieces of paper from your hand to flatten them against the vanished wooden porch. Her hand had slown down as she examins what you have written. "Is your teacher asking you to redo your homework?"

You nod, peeling your body lazily from the porch to sit up right to have a slice. Coolingly sweet. "But I don't see anything wrong with it...why?" You spit the seeds into the backyard, they disappear into the long sea of grass, hopefully to grow into more sweet watermelons for you to sink your teeth into. "They said that because you're an English teacher at cram school, I needed better words." You spit another seed trying to keep your mouth relatively empty so that your mother wouldn't smack you one over the head for talking with your mouth full of watermelon. You point at the first line, "A for Apple." You read. "And they marked it correct." Your mother states pointing at the circle your teacher left on the page acknowledging your answer was correct. "They said better words." You repeat, tossing the watermelon skin back onto the plate and helping yourself to another one. "Something in English that begins with an A and is better than apple."

"Well, that's easy." Your mother says standing up, "I'll just grab you a thesaurus and..." You grab a hold of her shirt sleeve, your eyes pleading for her to sit back down. She sits close to you, the heat uncomfortable but the pressure comforting. "I'll look for it tomorrow, you should go out and play with your friends." She kisses your temple and picks up a watermelon slice. You spit a big seed very forcefully and frown. "Sure," you stitch a smile onto your face replacing the slice with your glass of lemonade bringing it into the house, "is there more in the kitchen? I'll drink it on the way."

"Do you want me to walk with you?"

"It's not far." You lie. Pouring the lemonade into your clear flask, snatching some snacks and slipping into your sandles and hat, you hop out the house. "Be back before dinner!" You hear your mother call, you wave to her as you ascend the hilltops. You had no idea where you were going. It's hot.

Before summer started, you wanted to make plans with your friends from school but they all had to decline as they were going on holiday or visiting distant relatives in the country side. You were the only one left in the city. You lied just to have an excuse to stop doing your homework, it was just so troublesome to do it again and with the blazing summer heat, you didn't want to do it. You stop walking and realise that you had gone a bit too far up the hill. You could see your house from where you were, recognising the mural your brother and yourself did before he too abandoned you for a summer trip with his friends. Jerk. You wipe some of the condensation from your flask and slap it against your forehead, cooling you down a bit. You take your hat off and fan yourself with it, continuing up the hill. Too hot.

Slowly, you pass by the empty houses of your friends, the gates closed and the driveway empty. All except one. You don't remember this house being here. Not occupied anyway. You run up to the gate to read the family name. The plaque was gone. How strange. Looking through the rusty bars you see someone moving inside. A gasp escapes your lips as it startled you slightly pulling away. You see their silhouette circling the house and you follow the hedge after it to the back garden. The hedge being so tall, you stick your head into the hedge instead, hissing slightly as the branches scrape at your face and neck. You hear the back door squeak open and you stop struggling.