Chapter one is up! I know it's been a while since I uploaded, but I was kinda discouraged by the lack of response. So please, if you're reading this, don't forget to vote and comment. It helps a lot :D
Dedicated to JoSellick for helping with the title. Thank you so much :)
Chapter 1
It all started during the summer I turned three.
Every summer since I can remember, my parents carted me and my siblings fourteen hours away to our lake house. And we stayed there. For the whole summer.
The. Whole. Summer.
Now sure, as a small child, it was great. I got to fish, swim, run around, explore. I guess you could call it every kid’s dream vacation. But as I got older, it got less fun. I missed hanging out with my friends, shopping, just generally being a teenager. And with the limited internet connection, it made it hard to stay in touch with the city life.
And it would have really sucked, had it not been for a certain family staying down the street from us, with a son around my age.
We first met the summer I turned three, while my father took me quadding on a little path through the forest. While we were driving along, him and his father travelling in the opposite direction, and we ran into each other.
Literally.
I guess our friendship first started that evening, after his dad invited my family to have dinner at their place, to apologize for putting a dent in our quad, which, to be honest was there before he hit us.
I’m not quite sure why it happened, but while the grownups were talking, he decided that he needed to get my attention. And, not wanting to speak, the only alternative in his mind was to kick my shins as hard as he could. Having three older brothers and a younger sister, my first instinct was to fight back. So, as subtly as I could, I lowered myself onto the floor, and pulled on his leg, letting him know it was on. By the time the adults noticed, we were on the wrestling under the table, WWE style.
Upon realizing that he could hold his own in a fight, I decided we could be friends, and the rest is history. I suppose without his company, summers would have been pure torture. I spent all the time I could with him. I often wonder what it would have been like without him. Lonely, is the only word I can use to describe it.
Now, back when we were small, life was a whole lot simpler. Puberty hadn’t hit, so there was no sexual tension and I could still beat him in a fight. Disputes were made up as soon as our attention shifted. I could proudly call him my best friend and no one would wonder if we were dating. We shared interests. Sleepovers were still permitted.
In all, life was good.
For example, the summer when we were seven, we hung out every afternoon, in order to build a tree fort. It took weeks of finding the perfect spot and even longer to build the damn thing. But we persevered, determined to have a tree house by the end of the summer.
Finally, when it was done, we decided to sleep in it overnight. And our parents let us, because what were two seven year olds going to do together in a tree house? Besides sneak in the banned pop and chips and stay up all night on a sugar rush? Not much.
Now if I asked to stay in the fort with him, my mother would assume that it was a ploy to be alone with him so we could do the nasty.
Or, the summer we were eleven, right before his voice got low, when we got lost in the woods.
Don’t get me wrong, getting lost was some seriously scary shit, but the principle of the matter is what I’m trying to get at. We went into the woods to explore. And we were allowed. Because our parents trusted two eleven year olds to be responsible and just be friends. And we were. We didn’t kiss, or do anything inappropriate. We just hung out. If only it were that easy nowadays.
Dexter and me, the two best of friends. During the school year, to stay in touch we’d write postcards to each other, both agreeing that letters were too long. Postcards were much shorter and simpler, each only containing a few subjects. It was enough to stay in contact, especially for two children who still didn’t understand the internet. The first two we ever exchanged went along the lines of:
“Deer Viola. How r yu? I miss yu a loot. Grade 1 is fun. Wat is Ur favorit color? Love, Dexter.”
“Deer Dexter, I am gud. How r yu? I miss yu to. Juss strated The 1st Grade 2. Summer waz fun. My favorit color is orang. Wats yurs? Love, Viola.”
All those spelling mistakes, loaded with the huge writing and backwards letters makes for an entertaining read nowadays. Reading it now, as my adult self, I only now realize just how adorable these little cards were, and how much I really want to be seven again.
During the summer, we’d climb trees, make obstacle courses, and swim in the lake.
At age nine, I distinctly remember a game we’d play almost every day. Each time we stepped on a dock at the same time, it became a contest to see who would push the other in first. I usually won, seeing as nine-year old me played dirty. I’d crouch behind him a grab at his lower legs, pulling them forward till he collapsed, ultimately resulting in him in the water. At first this little game annoyed our parents tremendously, until finally they stopped fighting it and just left us towels at the end of the dock.
Dexter was the one who taught me to skip rocks, when I was ten years old. He’d wrap his arms around my, showing me the proper technique, and I’d think nothing of it. A move older people deem sexual just seemed like casual friendship to me.
I was the one who taught him to whistle. He taught me make a proper fist. I taught him to braid.
He got to witness me learn to water ski and even video tape it, excellent blackmail in his books. I, however, got revenge with the video tape of his fiasco with his first fishing trip. Let’s just say, the fish may have had a rabbit as a parent.
When I look back on all the major events in my life, and some of the minor, he’s always there, helping me through it.
It was all good, innocent fun, up until the summer it all changed. The summer we turned fourteen, after we both hit puberty.
The summer I realized how attractive my best friend was.
The summer my attractive best friend kissed me.
The summer we stopped hanging out.
The summer I was alone.
The single handed worst summer of my life.
Here’s when the story really begins.
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