𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬┊✓

e i g h t e e n | f e r n w e n

«not edited»

fernwen (n) a longing to travel, missing a place you've never been
[origin : german]

Days went by, turning into weeks passing us by without time ever truly stopping. Things and sorts went by unacknowledged and in just a flash, something in your life changes. And here we were now, in the awaken and early days of October, I thought as I laid in my bed staring blankly as my forensics homework. Wait what exactly am I supposed to be studying again? Anthropology or toxicology?

My thoughts wandered off again to everything that has happened in the recent month; much of it is unforgettable. My time is majorly spent with the gang, - my time alternated between spending my time at Phoenix's house and my house - and other than that, my schedule is filled with school and xc and working at the coffee shop and surf shop. But even at the shops, Blake stays with me once in while at the surf shop and Phoenix, well, he's always there when I'm taking over at Artisan Brewery. And he's always got his eyes on me, watching me and my movements intensely. I really wonder sometimes what goes on in his mind as he watches me.

Artisan Brewery is truly something else. The amount of foolery that goes around between the baristas is unreal. Specifically the amount of foolery caused by Alec is unreal. I vividly remember this one time, Alec, Audrey, and I were making orders, having a perfectly chill day because the shop was quite calm. All three of us were making infusion tea drinks - Starbucks much? - when Audrey slightly messed up. It caught me off guard, resulting in me messing up as well and that's when I learned you're better off not screwing up at all unless you want a whole fucking civil war to start. Alec stared at us like he just has seen a ghost and then proceeded to throw his current blend on us. And then I got equally mad so I grabbed the nearest pitcher of liquid and threw it on him and it just happened to be freshly squeezed lemonade. Fucking idiot he is! In turn, Audrey as well got mad at Alec and she thew peach juice on him. Served his as right! I laughed to myself thinking back to that day.

Other than that, working at the coffee shop had been wondrous. According to Alec, I was exceptionally talented as I had perfected the idea of latte art. All thanks to him, within the forgoing month, I've really mastered the basics. I've learned to perfect some pretty coffee art like the inverted rosetta tulip, tulip, heart, swan, and Phoenix's personal favorite, phoenix. The bastard felt pretty damn notorious knowing he had a coffee art with his name.

࿎

This fall season seemed to be one of the best athletics season Paradise Creek has seen in a while or so those are the words going around the hall. I closed my books now and sat up against my headboard, letting myself think about everything. We had three meets already and at each of them, I've placed first. Our first meet at Oceanside High was only a 2.5 mile race, I ran that in 10.13, then our next race at Seaport High was a 3.1 race, I ran it in 12.46, and our last race at Bayport High was another 3.1 in which I ran in 12.36. Barely fucking made a personal record. Thing is, when I'm running, I end up all by myself far ahead from everyone, so I lose the motivation to run any faster than I already am. And if that's how it's gonna be for the rest of the season, I really shouldn't look forward to setting much more of a personal record because for the rest of the season all the races are 3.1 - with the exception of one - and I am fucking screwed.

As for Phoenix and the fútbol team, I - along with Pyper and the guys - have been to all of his games so far, wearing his jersey. The stares and glares were something I had gotten used to, I knew they would never go away, and the fact that I was wearing his jersey would only make others envy and despise me more. I didn't care about the stares anymore, I cared about Phoenix and his match. It was literally like watching an El Clásico match, he was skilled and talented and he knew how to bring a crowd onto himself. He had the entire stadium cheering for him, yelling his name and he relished in it. And at each of his matches so far, he's scored the the opening goal along with the winning goal. As I watched him play, he stopped at nothing to make sure he scored and our team won; and if he didn't score, you can count on your lucky stars he had some amazing assists. And you would never find Phoenix Worthington back on defense, he was always the striker. And the words whispered across the halls of Paradise Creek were true in every aspect, he was the best striker there could possibly be. Now of course we aren't comparing him to Ronaldo or Messi, - in that case, Messi's better right? Barcelona for the win? - but Phoenix Worthington was good, he was an unforgettable player on the field.