beverly sat by my side, playing with the rubber band that was on her wrist with one hand. we were seated on a rock, staring at the water below. comfortable silence filled the air on the cold day. the transition from fall to winter was observable. few leaves still stuck to the branches of their trees, and the days were shorter, nights longer.
my eyes wandered to beverly's bruising wrist. a single ring of greens and yellows circled around the fine line between her wrist and her hand. i felt my hands grab onto the area suddenly, examining it closely. beverly didn't wince or tense, however. she just looked over at me curiously. the clouds in the sky reflected along her blue eyes. "this is gonna hurt, you know," i frowned gently. she only shrugged in response.
"huh-h-hey!" bill jogged over, dragging a smiling stanley by the arm. he sat on the rock across from us as stanley took a sit right next to him. i looked up at stanley and bill's adjectives, and they were both words that were synonyms for 'happy'. beverly waved over at them sweetly, a smile spread across her face.
we sat in comfortable silence once again for a brief moment. stanley's head fell onto bill's lap as he closed his eyes. i watch as bill began to play with his hair with a smile on his face. beverly nudged my shoulder slightly, causing me to pass her a glance. she tilted her head towards the pair with a knowing smile before looking beyond into the sky. her scarlet hair blew gently as a gust of wind flew by.
"w-what th-the f-fuh-fuh-" bill pointed behind beverly and i. a pile of papers flew in the air and flowed along the wind's path. many papers came our way, but none hit us. they settled into piles of leaves. suddenly, a kid appeared from the woods. short, more on the chubby side, he started to pick up the various contents and stuff them into a bag.
"new kid!" beverly beamed. she lifted herself off the rock and started to help collect some papers. my eyes studied the papers; many were maps, and others were copied pages of books. i then looked at the kid once again. his cheeks were rosy, and he was staring at beverly intently.
flustered
"hey," stanley pointed at him, "you're the kid in my history class!"
the boy just nodded with a small smile, not bothering to speak. he held the paper filled backpack to his chest and dug his nose into his scarf. "you're like really smart," stanley said to him, "ben? is it?."
"yup!" beverly answered for him, "and he is quite the nerd!" she slung and arm around his shoulder and leaned on him, not bothering to notice the way his eyes looked back up at her like a puppy.
i tried to distract myself from the constant pining that flew in the air around me. i walked around silently until my eyes noticed a pile of spare change a teenager must have left from a purchase. i picked it up, planning on saving it for my coin jar that was hidden in my closet. i hadn't opened the jar since easter, using it to bye chocolate.
"eh-uh-ed-duh-die?" bill looked from stan for a brief moment, "would you like to hang out tomorrow? the other three have already said yes.
i gave a small smile, "sure."
—
my eyes flicked open to look at the ceiling. my back laid flat on the couch, my head propped up by a pillow. my arms tugged at the blanket that was enveloped around me like a cocoon. i looked over at the clock that was mounted on the wall. 8:04. i knew my mom was already in a deep sleep on her queen sized bed that she once shared with my father.
i looked over at the television, noticing the way richard dawson kissed a woman almost romantically. "gross," i sneered, "she's married, and a contestant." as soon as the words fell out, they flew away like a small memory. i planted my feet on the floor and got up with a loud groan, drowning out the noises from the television. i rubbed my eyes and continued to the kitchen.
the glass bowl rang like a bell as i placed it on the counter mindlessly, and i carefully got everything for cereal.
i took a spoonful of captain crunch before slipping the channel to the late at night news; my mother never let me watch the news when she was around. she called it the 'media agenda'. nevertheless, i listened to every story intently. the monotone voices of news reporters almost sang in my ear with a sweet tune of violence and political bullshit. my eyes were glued to the blonde woman that told a story about the local restaurant being burnt down by accident.
"thank you diana," the main reporter concluded the segment and carried on with the new one, "a new study has shown that eight percent of people are not prepared for christmas, financially..."
my thoughts drowned out the report as the word 'christmas' echoed throughout the room softly. excitement didn't build up in me however. a sort of dread crawled up inside of me with the thought of seeing my aunts and having to tell groups of carol singers to go to the next house. i imagined having to fake smile through everything like the people pleaser i was trained to be by my mother. my aunts always gave me crosses and bibles, always calling me the 'model young boy for this astray generation'. i wasn't though; i just wanted to lay in bed instead of going to church, and that is exactly what i did on most sunday mornings.
every year i told myself it would be different. maybe i would be given a gift card or a gift certificate instead of prayer candles and devotion books. i wanted one christmas where i had a family that thought i was more than a poster child.
someday.