It all started when my dad said I was going to go spend the week in Boston with my Uncle Jerry, Aunt Beverly, and my three cousins, Jacob, Annie, and Wendy. His reasons:
“You don’t spend enough time with them.”
My response: “Yes I do, I Face-Timed Aunt Bev last week.”
His response: “Well, what about the rest of them?”
My response: They don’t even pay attention to me.”
His response: “Maybe they would if you tried harder.”
My response: “Yeah, whatever.”
Reason #2: “At least you get to miss a week of school.”
My Response: “Yeah, but that’s also a week of make-up homework.”
His response: “Seriously? I thought missing school was every kid’s dream.”
My response: “Why do I have to go?”
Reason #3: “BECAUSE I SAID SO AND I ALREADY SPENT EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS ON PLANE TICKETS.”
Two days later, my brother Zander and I found ourselves being driven to the airport and walking down the terminal as my parents grinned a little too happily as they waved goodbye. Then, I was on an airplane for 3 hours while a 3 year-old kid three rows behind me wailed like a siren about how he left his toy train at the airport.
Zander wasn’t that big of a help. He sat next to me clutching my arm so tightly (because of his fear of heights); I feared he was going to cut off my blood circulation. I tried to distract myself from the chaos by watching episodes of Futurama on my laptop and browsing through catalogs of Skymall. Did you hear they have Mood Scrunches for $10.99 this week?
Finally, the plane landed and people breathed sighs of relief and briskly walked down the aisles towards baggage claim, scowling at the 3 year-old’s parents. I shook my brother awake, who had gripped my arm even in his sleep, and searched for Uncle Tom and Aunt Bev.
I finally spotted Uncle Jerry, who reminded me of Ned Flanders from the Simpsons, with his bushy mustache, wire-rimmed glasses, and his extremely steadfast belief in his religion (Christianity). He was holding hands with my Aunt Beverly, whose skin was the color of hazelnut coffee, shared a love of books (but not manga) with me, and was my favorite relative. Behind them stood my cousins Jacob, who didn’t even bother looking up from his game of Minecraft Pocket Edition on his iPhone, grunted as if to say hello, and my cousin Annie who was too busy ogling a group of college boys from UMass to even acknowledge me.
“So, Ava! Are you ready to have a good time with your family?” Uncle Jerry asked. I nodded reluctantly. Aunt Bev’s eyes twinkled with amusement. I glanced at Zander, who was already sharing Skyrim cheats.
“You look like you could use some Starbucks,” Aunt Bev whispered to me. I nodded.
Within half an hour, I was seated in a musty Starbucks, sipping a peppermint mocha latte while reading my favorite book, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Everyone sat in a booth, drinking their assorted hot beverages and lemonades (seriously, who asks for lemonade at a coffee shop? Zander, that’s who). Nobody talked, which made it awkward. Annie was texting. Zander and Jacob were playing on their assorted Apple products, Uncle Jerry was typing on his laptop, and Aunt Bev was doing the same thing I was doing, reading Stephen King’s The Shining and sipping her Deluxe Hot Chocolate.
Uncle Jerry finally looked up and said a loud “SO!” to get our attention, followed by, “I’ve got your visit planned down to the hour to pack the most family fun into this week as possible-”
“Or as money permits,” Aunt Bev interjected. Uncle Jerry continued. “First, we’re going to ride the swan boats in Revere Park, for lunch we’re going to Chipotle, we’re going to the movies to see Scary Movie V, but that’s all I’ve planned for today, at least. On Monday, we’re going to watch the Boston marathon because Wendy is running. You remember Wendy, right?” Yeah, she’s my 19 year-old cousin who goes to UMass and majors in architecture, which means lots of up-al-nights and caffeinated coffee.
“She doesn’t really seem like the type to do that,” Zander said.
“Oh, she’s trying to put herself out there and try new things. Find her inner young adult,” Aunt Bev replied. Annie finally looked up from her oh-so important task of texting a random stranger on Facebook to lean towards me and whisper: “I bet she doesn’t make it a mile.
The weekend passed pretty quickly. We ate Chipotle twice, went to a fancy French restaurant called La Bonne Vie(the good life in French), toured a hipster art museum, and laughed our guts out at Scary Movie V. Finally, Monday came. Uncle Jerry insisted everyone get a portable chair and lots of water.
We met up with Wendy in front of the finish/start line where there were hi hugs and “You’ve gotten so tall” exchanged. We all wished Wendy good luck and took our seats near the finish line. The marathon started in five minutes.
Aunt Bev got her video camera ready. Uncle Jerry took his camera out. Jacob and Zander turned on their 3DSs. Annie talked to her friend about making a Harlem Shake video (remember when that was “in”?). I opened my new book from a vintage bookstore titled Slaughterhouse Five (by Kurt Vonnegut) and listened to the radio. Thank God for Pandora and Lana Del Rey.
After 3 hours, Uncle Jerry fell asleep and got a minor sunburn, four runners crossed the finish line, and everybody was hungry. There was no sign of Wendy. ‘I told you she’d bail,” Annie gloated. “You might as well just hand over the five bucks now.”
Uncle Jerry spotted a hot dog vendor a few blocks down and across the street. He said he’d get us some dogs. Everyone agreed to come with him, even the video game twins. I volunteered to stay behind and guard the chairs.
“Just bring me back some cheese fries,” I said.
I settled back in chair, just as two casually dressed men stepped out of the building behind me. One had a beard and was a little pudgy; the other looked about nineteen and was really, really handsome. They walked quickly and nonchalantly. “Hurry,” the handsome one whispered.
“Thirty seconds,” the older one replied. I watched the eighth, ninth, and tenth runners cross the finish line. There was still no sign of Wendy. Maybe she did ditch. I didn’t blame her, the marathon was getting boring.
I counted in my head. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen. I tried to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. I thought about the thirty seconds thing. Eight, seven, six. Hmm… thirty seconds. Five. Four. A jolt of realization went through my body. Three. I stood up. Two. I reached for my cell p- One. BOOM!
The building behind me exploded. I flew forward and landed on my face. Blood immediately gushed from my nose. Pandemonium, everywhere. My book skid down the sidewalk, charred and smoking. I tried to get up. Someone stepped on my spine, hard.
I screamed a piercing scream of agony and fright. I was pretty sure my back was broken. I looked at my legs and screamed again one was bent at a very odd angle, so much that I could faintly see the bone. The other was embedded with shrapnel, and had a huge gash in calf that would no doubt get infected. I lifted my head and got kicked in the jaw. My head twisted back and I fell, unconscious.
Alright! This is my first chapter of my new story and I really hope everybody likes it. Please vote on it!! Also, I have a song that goes perfectly with the first chapter, People Help the People by Birdy. Please remember the victims of the Boston marathon and the three lives lost.
