Hey everybody, I’ve been working on this short story for the past few days. (Still a WIP,) but I thought that I might actually try submitting. There’s no title to this piece but I thought I’d give you a peek. I hope you find it interesting.
The Autumn air, (still feeling like a warm summer day) whooshed past her face as she pumped her legs moving upward on the swing. There’s was something so peaceful about being on the swings, they could calm her thoughts even on her worst day. Today had been terrible, for the horrid teacher that she had suffered through last year, had followed her to eighth grade English. Ms. Nielson had picked up right where she had left off from the previous year, with the exception of changing curriculum. Instead of studying authors like Louis Sacher, and Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. They were now digging into memoirs, and History, like the Holocaust and reading The Diary of Anne Frank. How she longed for next year when they would be introduced to Shakespeare, or more accurately, Romeo & Juliet. Nielson had picked up right where she had left off, her voice ringing with clear fury, and her frustration showing even more easily in her old age. Why they don’t just let the old bat go; but then the word she despised popped into her head, tenure. For the next few years Nielson would have a permanent residence in the English department of Prescott Junior High, continuing to torture both students and staff with her nasty attitude. Just this year, just get through this year and you’ll never have to tolerate the old bitch again. Nielson might have been granted to torture the lower classmen but the upperclassmen got teachers like Parker, Long, and Kelly, all who were as even tempered as possible and young.
She glimpsed up at the blue mountain backdrop, (a gorgeously, magnificent sight that only The Rockies could provide.) She drifted willingly and happily. She could smell the rich mountain air, and see the Rockies as they were meant to be seen; up close and surrounding her in every direction. She could see the trail, unchanged, the Columbines blooming along it’s edges, as if they were guiding her up the trail. A light breeze brushed against her and pine trees provided shade from the sun overhead. If only she could stay in this memory, but at the very least the memory had served its purpose. To wash away what had clung to her conscious mind, since the guidance counselor had presented her with her class schedule. Now she could go home, now she could stand to be around her parents and deal with whatever might transpire.
“Roxy, Hey girl.”
Roxy broke her stare from the distant blue mountains and looked down the park’s fence alleyway, where Crystal emerged from, smiling broadly.
“Hey Crystal,” Roxy greeted, but showed no signs of slowing down, as her legs took in another pump of the air.
“You know something, every time I come to the park you’re always on the swings.”
“I like to lose myself on them,” she said flatly.
“Me too,” said Crystal, as she mounted the other available swing, next to Roxy.
Roxy felt a wave of annoyance and displeasure wash over her.
“So how’d your first day back go?” Crystal asked then added, “Mine was long and boring.”
“It was all right,” she said, not caring enough to mention her dislike to find out that she had Nielson for another year.
“I’ve got homework already, Nielson,” Crystal continued.
Oh thanks for reminding me, homework on the first day, what kind of teacher gives a homework assignment on the first day back. At least it’s easy. Roxy thought as Crystal’s continued yammering began to sound like static from a radio.
A few minutes later Crystal dismounted from the swing set only to head over to the jungle gym to climb on the monkey bars, still yammering about subjects such as school friends, and her folks. At least that’s what Roxy assumed. Every once in a while when she would tune Crystal back in. At which point Roxy would say “Yeah, that’s ridiculous, or parents are weird.”
It had been shortly after Crystal had dismounted from the swings that Roxy first noticed her. She recognized her instantly. It was that curly haired new girl, she’d seen her around the neighborhood a few weeks before school began, and she seemed different, compared the other girls in the neighborhood; she kept to herself, and seemed shy. But there was something else about this girl that had nothing to do with the vibes she put off, no it was something unrecognizable to Roxy. It almost felt like a question with the answer visible, but still far too blurred to properly see it. So she knew the thing was there and yet, blank.