With all my heart pt. 2
In college, I took a few creative writing courses and wrote a 20 page story. Recently, I found this story, but thought it could be done better. The following is the start of my attempt to recreate it
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The last week of school before Summer always seems to put everyone in a lighter mood; the taste of freedom and an “anything could happen” attitude . You can feel the happiness in the hallways between classes, as if emotions were palpable. The sounds of laughter and casual conversation exponentially louder than usual.
It was exhausting to be around and these past four days felt like I was moving in slow motion. Most mornings I feel like I’m walking through mud, every step more difficult and daunting and lately, the feeling lasts all day. But, I made it. Finally. The last day of my junior year at Oakwood High.
A piercing beep snaps me out of my daze. It’s a school wide announcement just minutes before 2:30 - when I would finally be dismissed from class for three long months. A familiar voice trills over the outdated speakers in Ms. Huntley’s classroom.
“Attention Oakwood students!” The principal begins what I can only assume is a well thought out farewell speech. I usually write when I’m listening to teachers speak since it helps me focus, but I already packed my bag and I am not doing all that. My mind starts wandering almost immediately and before I know it, the final bell rings.
Everyone stands up to leave in unison. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor clashes with the cheers of my classmates just excited to leave. I wait until the room is practically empty before moving. “Have a good one” I say with as much excitement as I can muster, trying to say goodbye before I get stuck in any conversation.
“Hold on for just a second”, Ms. Huntley proclaims. Too late.
“I really need to catch the bus.”
“Oh honey,” her tone flips and I can already guess what she’s going to say next. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
I can’t help but sigh in response. I don’t know how to answer this question and I haven’t practiced any believable responses lately. “Yeah, I figured” purposefully not answering the question and apparently not fooling my teacher who frowns in disapproval.
Ms. Huntley was my mother’s best friend from high school. So, even though I tried to pretend it didn’t happen or that I didn’t care, she knew. She probably knew before that my mom was planning to move out. Actually, I’d bet all of the $104 in my bank account that she met my mom’s new boyfriend. “Fuck her” I mutter under my breath, willing my anger to wait until I get home to unleash.
But she hears me and takes a step towards me. I can’t tell if she’s going to scold me or hug me, but I’m not waiting to find out. I mumble something about the bus before quickly walking out of her classroom and then out of the heavy, East wing doors.
The sun blinds me for a moment before I can focus on the ugly yellow blobs of the school buses rolling out of the parking lot. Just my luck. The walk to my dad’s house is 3.6 miles away according to Google Maps. I’ve memorized these directions, but if I’m not careful, my body will mindlessly end up walking to 172 Willow Lane. A house haunted only by my memories and an accident I’ve made once before. No thanks.
Even though we’re in the early days of June, the sun must already be set to a hellish full blast. Before I make it down the block, sweat beads on my skin and starts soaking into my bra. Alright, AirPods in. The Spotify playlist starts back up where I left it. Its the perfect day for a little System of a Down
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When I finally make it to the end of Glenwood Drive, to the yellow 1970’s house that I now call “home”, it’s already 3:45. I reach for the door knob expecting to walk in to the sweet, sweet AC. But, I’m stopped by the weight of a single deadbolt.
“WHY!” I yell up to the sky as if the universe specifically did this to spite me. Something moves that I can just barely see out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over, it’s my fucking neighbor. We call him Nosey Nathan and in this moment, he looks more frightened than curious. Great.
“Howdy” I greet Nosey Nathan with a poorly executed country twang. Does that reassure him that everything is fine and normal? I don’t turn down my music to find out, and walk to the back of the house. The kitchen window has been broken for weeks, with a thin piece of plywood laid against it in typical dad fashion.
