The Not So Girl Next Door

Chapter 1: Dreams

           “But don’t worry! I’ll visit as soon as possible! Then I’ll take you both to the Smithsonian Museum this fall. I heard they just opened. Sounds good?”

           “Yes!” I replied excitedly.

“Well, I better get going now. I still have to finish some papers. You two take care, alright?”

           “Sure thing, Dad!” Danny said.

 “Bye! Love you! Visit soon!” we both said.

          “I will”

Then he hung up.

Maybe it was the happiness of dad finally calling again or that maybe he is the only thing Danny and I can relate to, but whatever the reason is, I couldn’t understand why after dad hung up, Danny and I found our arms wrapped together like we just finished doing some polka dancing.

         “Ew. Now I gotta boil my arm,” Danny went to the sink and washed his arm, “Can you try not to infest me with your freaky germs?” he made a gagging sound.

          I just rolled my eyes at him. Weirdo. Why I am even related to him?

After clearing up the dining table and washing the dishes, I made my escape to my peaceful haven where I spent so many years waiting and dreaming about him.

It was a place where Jared and I used to hang out when we can’t think of anything else to do.

I ran the second I was on the streets and didn’t stop until I reached the field. Our field.

As I sat down on the soft green grass under the canopy of the Oak tree from my childhood, I remembered that one last day—that day when Sean Jared Sullivan bid his goodbye when we were both eleven.

          I remember it all too clearly—we were sitting on this very spot, restless from a wonderful day together five years ago. He made his world-famous Raspberry Peach Smoothie and put them in tall glasses with those colorful, curly straws.

          We were watching the sun go down in the early summer as we slurped on our smoothies when he looked at me with those irresistible blue eyes and said, “I had fun today, Kels.” I remember feeling a thrill of pleasure as he said those five short words.

But what he said next erased every trace of happiness in me and turned it to shock and sadness. “I have something to tell you. My dad’s company is moving to New York. So, I guess we're all moving there. I didn’t know how to tell you so I didn’t,"

I spit out the smoothie I was drinking. Pink sloshes of ice spurted out on the green grass. I stared at him with wide, frozen eyes.

          “When are you leaving?” I asked as calmly as I could, even though I was so close to bawling my eyes out.

           He ignored my sudden reaction, as if nothing happened. “Tomorrow morning,” he said. I looked down. I didn’t want to look at him.

          He reached for my hand and dropped his safari bracelet on my palm.

          “You can take this as a reminder of me. You’re like my best friend, Kelsie. Promise me you won’t lose this, ‘kay?”

          He fastened it on my wrist. The parts where his fingers touched my wrist felt warm. Real warm.

          “Okay,” I removed my purple string bracelet and gave it to him. “I know you hate purple but wear it to remember me by. Maybe someday, we’ll see each other again.”

          And that was it. That was Jared’s last day in Apple Valley, California.

          I remember going home that day, thinking what my life would be like with no Jared to goof off with, no Jared to throw paper airplanes at me, no Jared to tell everything to and no Jared to spend the day with.

          I never saw him again after that. No calls, no visits, no NOTHING.

          My last memory of him was through my tear-filled eyes the next morning. He waved at me from the back window of the moving van, smiling, while it moved farther and farther away.....like a dream that had been hindered from me—an unreachable dream.

          The wind blowing on my face zapped me out of the past and into the present.  

          I had always been madly in love with him. He was my puppy love, my first love and—hopefully—my last one. We had a special relationship that was stronger than friendship.

I lay my head on the cool green grass, gazing at the blue sky. This place was my refugee all through the years. And because there’s nothing much to see here but the ground carpeted with grass and big rocks that we sometimes sit on, it was my safe place to cry everything out when my life seems to take on another roller coaster ride.

Somehow, whenever I’m here, I feel the presence of my silly best friend. Everything here reminds me of him.

I remember the time when I dared him to kiss me just two weeks before he left. We were sitting on this very spot, goofing around as usual. I only dared him as a joke, but he took it seriously. He puckered his lips and came closer to me. That was the part where I ran as far as possible. After that, we were laughing our butts off.

I remember when we used to climb the big Oak tree beside me. We’d swing on the branches and climb to the very top where we could see the entire green field covered with different kinds of flowers. Then we would declare ourselves kings and queens of this place, laughing until I fell off the tree.

I remember the time he teased me about having a crush on the meanest bully in Apple Valley Elementary School way back in second grade. I chased him around the field for what seemed like a full hour until we finally decided to forget about it. Collapsing with laughter and gasping for air, we lay down on the cool green grass while pinky swearing that we would be best friends forever.

I felt a single tear fall down to my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying. I quickly wiped it away. Why am I even crying? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or something.

I sat up and leaned my head against the trunk of the Oak tree, staring at the blades of the green grass. I stayed in that position for a long time.

After some time, I stood up and began to walk away. The sun was higher up in the sky than it was a few hours ago. It must be noon. Time seemed to disappear every time I reflect on my life.

From a distance, I could see a tall figure near the big rocks where Jared and I once wrote our names back when we were both eight.

          Weird. No one ever comes here on a daily basis—except me, of course.

          I stood up as quick as I could and ran towards the house, afraid that there might be some kind of burglar.

          Yeah, right.