Summer

It was a hot afternoon. They tend to be in June, especially here in Texas. The sun was staring down at me, spiting me for daring to try to avoid its gaze. I sought refuge in the one air conditioned building within the town, the schoolhouse. It was a rather large building. It was split in 3 wings; primary, secondary, and high school wings.

            There were only 2 weeks left in the school year and I couldn't care less about Shakespeare or his idea of love. I guess I was the only person in the world who couldn't relate to this fruitcake. There's no way I would fall in love at first sight and be willing to kill myself for a chick just days or weeks after I met her. That s**t is just insane, you know?

            I strained to not look outside. How the field grass waved in the wind, gesturing me to come and play. How I resented it, for making me miss it so.

            English ended and I headed off to my next period. But, for the life of me, I couldn't remember what f*****g class it was. It was like my mind had been wiped blank, or a football a*****e rammed me into a locker.

            I guess it was obvious that I was clueless, because people started staring at me. That’s when I saw her. Apparently, my vacant gaze became bigger, and my mouth had become a bit of a grin. I'm not certain, because all I heard was classical music, like in one of those crappy soap operas my mom watches.

            She asked me if I was ok, and I quickly tried to think of something witty to say. Chicks like funny guys, right? All I could come up with was "I'm not sure...."

            She mistook my blushing in embarrassment as a sign of a fever and she walked me to the nurse's office. After making sure I was in the office and sitting down, she went off to her class. Oh, how her hair bounced as she walked; how her fragrance lingered behind her.

            F**k, I needed to know where she was going.

            The nurse could tell I was fine, and accused me of faking it to get into the young lady's pants. So what if I've done that before? That's not a reasonable thing to say to someone who may or may not be sick.

            I dashed from the office. I think I hit a chair, because my hip hurt. I looked for her brown hair in the distance. But all I could see was the forest of truants making out by their lockers; it wasn't helping.

            While running through the hallway, I saw her face through one of the door windows. So I did my own stake out by the door.

            It was a Spanish class. At least, I assume so. They were mumbling stuff I couldn't understand and I heard a lot of el’s and hola’s.

            Fifty minutes went by. They were the longest fifty minutes of my life.

            The bell rang. I guess I fell asleep, because I was quite startled and I saw a puddle by my feet. So I brushed myself off and waited for her to exit.

            I guess she was one of those studious little s***s, the ones who get good grades without trying and pal it up with their teachers, because she was one of the last ones out of the room.

            I saw her and since I didn't know her name, I said, "hey" as she walked by. I thought about grabbing her by the shoulder to get her attention, but decided against it half way through. The gesture was already started, so I acted like I was going to a handshake; my father always said it was the best way to make a good first impression to an employer, so I assumed it would be the same for chicks.

            I hurried through my schpeel. "Hey, thanks for your help earlier. I had a terrible headache and couldn't think straight. My name is Cameron." This was especially awkward, because she didn't finish the bridge of my handshake. So my arm was just twitching in the air the whole time and she was staring at me.

            I think she assumed I was insane, so she humored me, like any good enabler would. "No problem," she started, "I mostly wanted to make sure you weren't going to go all Columbine in here. That would severely hurt my chances of getting into a good college."

            Why couldn't I have her wit, god damn it!?

            I chuckled, and she did too. She told me her name was Stephanie. I asked what she was doing after school, if she wanted to get a shake or something. She was very hesitant, but accepted my offer.

            I waited for her by the bus stops after the last bell rang. God. How I hated those buses- all those sweaty, rank teenagers getting into such a small area. I felt like throwing up every day. My mother thought I was bulimic for 2 years. Even with all those rancid young people running around, I saw her coming from a mile away. At least, I assumed it was a mile, because I watched her walk toward me for what seemed like 20 minutes.

            We walked down to the closest place with milkshakes, which ended up being a local fast food chain, called Jim's. It was like having the disgusting taste of McDonalds, but pricier and even scarier. I think it was because the cooks thought they had nothing to lose.

            We talked about our classes and our hatred for the principal, our favorite music, and even what we planned on doing in the summer. I felt like I found my soul mate. It was like she was in my head or some s**t. I told her this. So, like any good science students, we decided to test it.

            "What number am I thinking of?" she asked.

            I took a shot in the dark, "1337."

            "Holy s**t!" she exclaimed. She was even cute when she yelled!

            I walked her home, and on her rosy red porch, we kissed. No tongue or anything, but it was the best feeling I'd ever had.

            We hung out a lot over the next week or so. We spent time at each other’s houses, and everything was going great. Then the seniors graduated.

            We all knew what came next: the senior prank.

            Like most teenagers in Texas, they were very experienced with alcohol, but they gave the job to the wrong people. The plan, we found out later, was that they would drive up in big vans and run around the primary school wing dressed as demons and monsters and s**t. But the driver of one of the vans had a bit too much. They were swerving all over the damn place.

            We could see something was wrong. You could hear the terrible rap beat from across the parking lot. He was going back and forth in the lane, and suddenly, he went hard to the right, up onto the curb. We all heard a thump and screams. Most say they saw the drivers run for their lives, all I had seen was Stephanie by the crash.

            So, of course, I was looking for her face, and I didn't see it at first. My heart raised, I felt a tear or two. I wiped them off. I couldn't look like a p***y at a time like this. I dropped my backpack and I ran toward the scene.

            I found her. She had been right by the car, but it missed her by a foot or so. It was mostly the wind from the car's velocity that pushed her over and onto the pavement. She had bumped her head and scraped her knees. Worst of all, she got a tear in her, and my, favorite dress.

            I helped her up, moved her away from the scene, and then checked for any other victims. I wasn't the only one who stepped up, of course, but I did my part.

            The only real injury was that of a junior, Mary Dawson, who broke her leg. She fell on it oddly after jumping away from the van. The thump was from it hitting one of the light posts.

            Stephanie thanked me for reacting so quickly and I explained that the only reason I even ran over there was for her; that she had become my world, my purpose for action.

            Three years later, I decided to cut off the circulation to my ring finger with a wedding band. We moved out of that small town into Austin, where she worked as a teacher and I tried to get by as a journalist for the local paper.

            We had 2 kids, the most precious little fuckers you'll ever meet. We retired at the ripe age of 60 and spent the rest of our days doing the crossword and complaining about kids on our lawn.

Reviews

[Gregory H.]

Very well done. I liked the story. Your dialoge needs a little bit of work. But nice job.