For the next week and a half, I sat on the beach in my aunt's backyard hoping to avoid any memories of certain cute boys. My headphones had just been blasting Macklemore when the song changed to All Time Low's "Remembering Sunday" and a hand fell on my shoulder. Yelping, I swiftly stood up and faced my scarer, but I only bothered to remove one headphone in case it was someone I wasn't in the mood to converse with.
Landon stared at me from the small distance between us, "lovely day, isn't' it?" I raised my eyebrows as my lips formed an emotion- a revealing frown. "I told you to stay out of my life and you thought it was worth it to go against my wishes in order to give me a weather report?!" I snapped, "Un-fucking-believable!" "That's not why I came here!" he stammered, "Dammit, I've been rehearsing this speech for a week! Well, I think you're amazing and fun and I never meant to hurt you. Izzy and I have some history but I haven't been into her for a while-- not since you came along. Anyway, I told her it was over between us and--" "I really wish you wouldn't have done that because I'm not running into your arms now that you're single. You didn't mention it once, asshole. I think it's time for you to leave," I interjected. I attempted to augment my façade by slumping back in my beach chair and putting my earbud back in; I hoped and prayed it looked like I was strong and he didn't see the single tear descending from my eye.
I waited an hour to make sure he wasn't just off the property but he was long home. I mentally reminded myself that nothing good comes from bad boys and wondered why I couldn't escape them in any part of the country. I headed inside to meet the concerned eyes of Aunt Lisa. She peered up at me slowly as if she was only now sensing my arrival, "Today's July 10th." Those three words were enough to send my head reeling; I collapsed on the floor with one hand still clutching the granite. I'm not sure of how long I stayed like that, but I woke up in the late afternoon positive that I'd succumbed to the anxiety again.
Three-hundred and sixty-five. Such an ordinary little number, right? In the grand scheme of things, how long is a measly year really? With my lanky arms wrapped around my knees, I contemplated how much a year really meant-- how much could completely transform in the blink of an eye. I know my life will never be the same again because of the past three-hundred and sixty-five days. Eight-thousand seven-hundred and sixty hours has to power to alter and disrupt a single life permanently. My head throbbed as I couldn't help but recall the last 525,600 minutes and mourn the person I used to be. I know she's gone, and all she left behind was this hollow likeness of her. We share the same name, but we haven't been close since July 10th, 2012. No, she stripped me of everything when I lost my dad. And that's not even the worst part! She took my father with her and somehow managed to leave me behind. Oh, but she didn't forget my brother. "I'll see you soon, Arabella," he'd called out to me on that last day in court. In just four days, they release him. I wonder if he'll bring Arabella back with him.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost YearTeen Fiction
Ari is lost when her dad (and best friend) dies before her eyes. She turns to drugs, alcohol, and boys as coping mechanisms. When she gets kicked out of school, her distant mother insists she spends the summer with her hippie aunt in South Carolina...