Harbor Island

Chapter 2

   I gently slid the picture into the clear slot in the book. I wrote the date next to the picture, waited for the ink to dry, and closed the book. I brushed my hand across the blue cover. The words "Harbor Island" sat prominently at the top in silver. I smiled before opening the book and looking at the first page where I had printed my name many years ago. I created this book the first year Baylor and I had moved here. I wanted to capture every moment that I had here in Harbor Island. The first two years of the book mostly contained little trinkets or dried leaves and flowers. 

   I had found all these things on Baylor and I's many adventures in the forest that ran behind Grandma's house. I would collect the leaves off trees as they changed from green to red and orange, the petals of pink and purple flowers as they bloomed in the spring, the feathers of birds that spent their days at the end of creek and pond beds, and the twigs from fallen bird nests that once sat high up in the branches. 

    Some of those days weren't spent in the forest, but spent down by the beach. The beach was always my favorite, but since I was too you young to go alone, Baylor had to come with me. The beach wasn't really Baylor's favorite place to visit, so I had to beg him to take me. But when we went, we had the greatest of times. From the beach I would collect little shells that sat upon the shore, the claws of crabs that had died long ago, and the little nothings that people left behind that turned into my own mementos.  

    The book contained my life here in Harbor Island. Once I got my camera, I took pictures of everything: the trees and grass, the little shops that held life, people that roamed the streets and most of all, the rain. I started taking at least one picture a day, a picture that would capture my mood. I would then put them in this book. I never really knew why I did this; it was just something I would do for me.  

    A deep knock came thumping on my door as the clock struck eight o'clock. I closed the book and slid it into the bedside drawer before getting up and answering it. Baylor stood in the door frame holding a school book in his hand. I already knew what he was going to ask before the words could even slip from his lips. "Let's go upstairs," I shook my head at him as we jogged the way up the stairs to his room. 

   I plopped down on his bed and he sat at his wooden desk that was pushed back into a corner. "This English homework is killing me Willow," he groaned.  

   "Well what is it?" I asked. I admired all his trophies that lined his room. They took up every crevasse of his bookshelves and every inch of his already crowded desk. He kept every trophy, every single one since the age of ten: his first from winning the local biking 5k and his last from being MVP of the school's lacrosse team. He was so determined to achieve every athletic achievement there could be. If there was something that contained an athletic ability, he would train hours among hours to come in first.  

   "It's this freaking book!" He exclaimed as he tossed the book in my direction. It landed by me on the bed and I instantly recognized the book. Flowers in the Attic, one of my favorite books, I have read that book about a hundred times. I could recite any and every word from that book. 

   "What's wrong with it?" I asked as I picked the book up. The spine was stiff seeing as Baylor has probably only read it once, if that. I liked my copy better, the spine was loose and free and half of the pages were taped back in due to the constant flipping of them. 

   "It's too confusing. The Mom locks the kids in an attic so she can go sleep around with all the rich dudes. The Grandma beats them and then the Mom tries to kill them with rat poison, which she successfully does with one kid. The brother and sister sleep with each for Christ's sake. It makes no sense." He shakes his head at the book before turning around.