Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
the hawks had successfully won three out of their three games in the season, eagerly awaiting their next match for another scheduled victory. winning was great, but it felt like leah was the one who had to make sure winning didn't inflate adam's head. she tried with larson and mcgill, but there wasn't much she could do.
the friday morning before their fourth game of the season, leah was sitting on the raft that sat on the riverbank whilst she waited for the school bus. leah had made it a frequent ritual to arrive to the bus stop early just so that she could watch the sunrise, and she'd even tried to convince adam to come. so it turned out that the one time adam joined, he really needed the sleep-in.
once again, leah watched the sky shift between fluorescent pinks and oranges to vibrant blues and soft purples. she took a mental note of the way the clouds flurried together in their colours, just so that she could tell her dad when she got home. now leah was admiring the rays of sun that peeked through the leafy trees and bounced off the rippling waves of the pond. the water glimmered and shimmered, and leah thought it was incomparable to any other sight in minnesota.
"the pond looks particularly beautiful in this light, don't you think?" she spoke absentmindedly to charlie and lester, adjusting her backpack straps as the yellow school bus slowed to a stop.
"if by beautiful you mean unbelievably ugly, then yes. i would agree." charlie remarked sarcastically. leah sighed disappointingly, hoping that he might admire god's gift to minneapolis like she did one day.
leah stepped onto the bus, halting on the steps, "you're just visually challenged," she turned around, "i feel bad for you." she shrugged. charlie narrowed his eyes as leah flipped back around and found a seat on the bus beside adam. lester averman's infamous narrations echoed down the bus as charlie huffed,
"the hawk-meister, roasting the char-man. he's feeling the burn."
visually challenged? visually challenged?! charlie strategically avoided speaking to leah banks at all costs, and the one time that he actually spoke to her, she insulted him. the last thing charlie needed was for leah banks to think they had a conversation. heck, if he ever started one, charlie was sure he'd never be able to escape leash.
charlie was thankful that leah wasn't as freakishly excited in the seventh grade as she was in the sixth. though, he still avoided coming into contact with her at all costs. charlie used to greet leah banks in the hallway when she said hello, but now he would pretend he didn't even notice her. the last thing charlie wanted was for people to think he was actually friends with leah banks.
obviously they weren't, because she was a hawk and he played for district five (who were now the ducks), but also because she had an unstoppable crush on him that no one would ever seem to shut up about. she would sniff charlie in history class, and stare at him from his right in science. it was unnerving, and it made charlie hate leah banks. he hated leah banks with a burning passion.
it helped him count his blessings: every second spent away from leah banks was a second in pure bliss.
that afternoon when leah arrived home, she told her dad all about the beautiful sunrise that morning. he told her that he caught a glimpse of it, and was glad that she could detail the rest with such passion. they were outside and leah's dad was making progress on one of his law cases.
"what's going on with you and charlie conway?" her dad interrupted, raising his eyebrows skeptically as leah hid a grin.
"nothing is going on between charlie conway and me," her cheeks heated up, "why do you ask?"
"oh, no reason," her dad sighed as he picked up his pen, "just that you... talk about him all time." he shrugged. silence filled the air as leah felt her stomach bloom with the familiar cherry blossom trees.
"i do?" she asked, sheepishly smiling at the ground as her dad nodded with a hum, "i suppose it's his eyes. or his smile." leah tried to suppress a grin of her own as she looked up at her dad.
"but what about him?" he asked as leah looked at him with newfound confusion, "you need to look at all of him, not just the bits of him. it's like in law - a case is greater than the sum of its parts. it's about the whole picture. and the question: is the whole greater or lesser than the sum of its parts?"
if leah were being honest, she didn't really understand her dad's analogy in reference to people for a long while.
