That One Summer

Part 1

As I walk into the school, I feel like there are thousands of beady eyes on me. I hear whispers that end in my name. Willow. Willow. That's all I hear. My name. Willow. Willow.

I scurry past them, clueless. My phone dings, but I'm too scared to even look at what it says. I stop, noticing what lies ahead of my path.

Satford.

I reach my locker to find Satford, my neighbor and my ex-friend, looking smug and very happy.

" What do you want from me?" I desperately exclaim with fury like molten lava. I swear I saw sparks flare in her eyes.

"Oh, nothing-I just thought that I might help with your, um, problem or whatever."

Satford rolls her eyes and flips her long and perfect-in-every-way brown hair over her shoulder. She laughs under her breath, pulls her iPhone 7 out of her pocket, and shows me my Instagram.

I push the phone away, only getting a glimpse of my horrific death sentence.

"Just leave me alone, okay?!?" I spit out at her. She wipes it, making a long streak of makeup across her tan-toned face.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME? I will get you for this, Willow!!" Satford screams at me. She turns, stamps on her heel, and darts to the bathroom.

I swear I heard her cry.

What did I do?

All I hear throughout the whole day is my name. People buzzing about me and running around after their friends saying, "Willow...have you heard about Willow?"

I try and hide from it, but I can't. It's all around me. Nobody can control the rumor anymore. It's a disease that won't stop spreading until it's cured.

I thought that, at the time, it would be apparent to see if the rumor would die off, but that was obviously the wrong decision because everybody's eyes were locked on me. As I walked into the auditorium, Satford approaches me, reminding me of the one summer I could never, ever forget.

It started two summers ago, on an evening with a milky looking sunset. The rays were an orange that bursted with color but looked like they were flowers about to bloom.

That day, the lake was warm, like hot chocolate on a freezing winter's day, so we went fishing. Satford and I didn't catch anything, not even a minnow! Then she thought of a great idea; well half great. She decided that we would use our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as bait. It kinda worked, but all we got was a six inch bass. Back then, when hate didn't cloud my thoughts, Satford was a true gem in my life. Some days, like that day, Satford was able to fill my life with nothing but cheer. Every breath held a new memory, one I wouldn't ever forget.

Our favorite thing we liked to do was swim in the small pond behind my shabby red cabin . Satford and I were able to create long twisted tales to act out underwater. We swam and became mermaids, dragons, fairies, and absolutely anything your imagination could hold. Now her glares freezes my soul. Later that night during our sleepover, when we were looking at the stars, she went inside. I followed, having no clue what she was about to do.

She got a hold of my mom's computer and started to video chat with all the popular girls. She pushed me out of the scene and begged me to stay upstairs until she called for me. Satford rushed me up stairs and the gloom of loneliness flooded me. For nearly two hours, I sat in our cozy kitchen staring at a picture of me and her as five-year olds smiling and hugging each other. I had just smashed it minutes before. Three days later, Satford seemed to vacate my life. Deep down, I miss those days, and I secretly have kept the smashed picture of us in my sock drawer, hidden where nobody will ever find it.

"Willow? Hello?"

Satford's voice shatters my mirrored dreams and as she smiles, I miss her.

I miss her alot.

But she ditched me when I needed her the most.

My brain wants to forget what she said and how I reacted, but I know it never will.

She starts to talk again, so my thoughts are vague. The next second, they're gone.

"Here," Satford softly says,"I know you're mad at me and all, I get that. But I know you better than even your mom does. You've been able to be a good friend to me in the past, and I made a gigantic mistake with what I did about the popular crowd that summer. Also, that wasn't me who posted that on Instagram. It was Buthel Gingham." And as she looks at the floor with true sadness, I realized what she was protecting me from that summer. She was keeping me away from the rumors. She was a true friend.

As I look at her hand, I see the locket I gave her when we were six. It had a picture of me and her in my backyard hugging each other.

I tear my eyes away from the locket and, not being able to control my emotions, I look down at the floor and start to bawl.

People laugh, but I don't care. I'm just beginning to not even care. I have the one thing that I need most: Satford, my true friend.

I will never, ever forget that one summer.

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