Twelve

Jenny grabbed the thick rope attached to the barn roof and swooped gracefully to the loft on the other side.  Then back again.

“C’mon, Teddy.  You said you’d do it before the end of summer.  You’ve got to do it today”, Jenny whined.  Today was the last day of summer.  Before the first day of junior high. 

She plopped down beside Teddy, stacking and restacking a small pile of stones she had brought with her to the barn.  Outside, a light rain was covering the grass, making it just wet enough to keep them out of the field and the old oak tree.  The one that was so perfect for climbing.   Inside the barn, the smell of dust and old wood mixed with hay created an intoxicating smell, one that would forever bring them back to the lazy days of summer.

They were twelve.  They were very good at being twelve.

“Jenny are you scared?”.  Both of them were now swinging their legs over the edge of the loft.  Teddy looked over at Jenny, starting at her feet stuffed in old tennis shoes, one sock scrunched down and one pulled up, knobby knees and long legs ending in cut off denim shorts.  She was mostly legs but had started filling out.  She was even experimenting with makeup.  It was an interesting summer, the summer of twelve. 

“No, I’m not.  Just remember…no elevators and no swimming pool.  Don’t listen to your brothers”.  Jenny was focused on a certain spot on the floor while reaching over to her rock arsenal.  She had picked up a good one, golf ball sized and a good fit in her hand.  She tossed it a couple of times up and down in her hand, getting a feel for the weight. 

“I’m not scared either.  I just don’t like school”.  Teddy got up and brushed the back of his shorts off, arched his back and let out a huge yawn.  “Let’s go, Jenny”.

A sudden move of her arm and Jenny launched her weapon.  Bang!  The rock and the intended rat target both scattered, a mere half inch from meeting. 

She got up and turned towards Teddy.  Impulsively, she moved her face close to his, but his moved away just as quickly, like a negative polarity magnet.  They both stopped, mere inches apart.  This summer of twelve had been different, both of them feeling new feelings and trying hard to understand them,  to deal with the awkward moments of these mere inches, dreaming and fantasizing about something that they didn’t know about.  Because sometimes they were really not so good at being twelve. 

Jenny pulled back and grabbed the rope again.  With a sly smile, she put her finger to her lips and then placed it on Teddy’s. 

“If you follow me I’ll give you something”.   Once again she gracefully flew over the barn floor, over the old tractor and dust and ancient wood and over the rock and rat, landing effortlessly on the other side.  She flipped the rope back over to Teddy.

Putting all second thoughts and fears aside, Teddy made a decision to leave twelve behind.  He grabbed the rope and swung over the loft, over the abyss that would hasten certain death.  Not so gracefully, he made it to the other side where Jenny grabbed the rope to keep him from swinging back out.  They ended up in a jumble of each other on the floor of the loft, again mere inches apart.  Jenny laughed, and pushed herself up from Teddy.

Twelve was in danger.  They both felt it.  But before the last mere inches went away and took twelve with it, Jenny stood up and took off up the bales of hay stacked in the loft.

“Race you to the top” she sang out, looking over her shoulder.  And the last summer before junior high came to an end, and with it the mere inches and twelve.   All things to come in time, but not with each other.

For now they were still twelve, and good at being twelve. 

Reviews

[Evil Duncan]

I loved this! In a short piece you evoke such wonderful images of childhood.

Describing the light rain that was enough to keep them inside, and the smell of the barn, are subtle points that leave the reader filling in the gaps themselves. It's a real skill, giving the reader just enough and trusting their imagination.

I love the idea of Jenny and Teddy being 'very good at being twelve' then sometimes 'not so good at being twelve'. It perfectly captures the feeling of being a child on the cusp of adulthood.

It's a beautiful piece of writing. Thank you for sharing!