Imaginer

3 - Where Something is Reminisced and Realized

3

Yeah, that'd been a fun day. And now I had to deal with his annoying little cousin while he went off and did gosh knows what. I had high hopes growing up that he would make a frog-to-prince transition. Result: disappointment. All he did was lose baby fat, and as sad as I was that I poked him and met some degree of resistance instead of a squishy squishiness, it wasn't much of a change, and it was our tenth year knowing each other.

"Jacoby!" I yelled when I got into the clearing where our families were sitting.

I'm going to kick his scrawny bum when I find him, I thought with a grim smile, but at the same time, wondering if I had the guts to keep that promise. He was harder to push around these days, just like I was, hopefully.

His mother, Doreen Harold, glanced up from her conversation with my parents. Her face crinkled into a smile as she saw me, holding hands so nicely with her niece, when really, I felt like I was being gently mauled by a grizzly bear cub.

"Mrs. Harold, do you know where Jacoby is?" I asked, trying to dislodge my hand from Emma.

"Oh, Jake? He wandered off into the woods a few minutes ago after Emma said she wanted to visit you."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

I didn't know why everyone insisted on calling Jacoby, Jake. Even his parents did. He might've preferred to be called that instead of Jacoby, since, well, it was a weird name, but to me, he was always Jacoby, never Jake. I had gone through great lengths to learn his name when I was younger and it stuck. Being the dork I was, I used to mutter his name to make sure I wouldn't forget how to say it.

I finally freed myself from Emma's grasp and stood there, wondering what to do now. Emma was here in the clearing again under supervision. Maybe if I left really quietly she wouldn't notice.

"Where ya goin', Jasslyn?" Her squeaky voice was like a whistle to the ear.

No. I'm not going to kick his bum...I'm going to throttle him and shove his face into the dirt until it's permanently brown. That's what he's going to get for leaving his little cousin with me.

"I'm going back to the field. I left my charcoal there," I said to her.

"I'm gonna go with you!"

I sighed and bent down to grab her. She squirmed and kicked as I lifted her up under her arms, like my mother used to do to me.

"Hey!" she yelled.

"Emma, I think you should go wash your hands. Your fingers are very dirty and sticky from the chocolate and jam you've been eating," I said, making sure Mrs. Harold heard me. She perked up at the word 'dirty' and glanced over at Emma.

"Ems, sweetie, come here. Let's see how filthy you've gotten already." Mrs. Harold gestured for Emma to come closer, and she obeyed, albeit grumpily.

I took off gleefully for my spot in the woods. Maybe I could try to sketch the scene again. Or maybe I could find a pretty flower to draw.

When I finally arrived at my spot I skidded to a stop. Sitting cross-legged next to my sketchpad and charcoal tin was Jacoby.

"Lovely of you to leave your little cousin with me," I snapped, though the urge to do mean things to him began to dissipate with every second I stood in his presence. He had a gaze that was capable of turning any extreme emotion into something as ridiculous as a child's tantrum-meaning, degrading, and as hard as I tried not to let it affect me, it did.