“Animals don't hate, and we're supposed to be better than them.” -Elvis Presley
July 8th, 2013- Nico Forrest
"FORREST, this is the fifth time you come to my office this week," sighed Julie Sanders, the 40 year old policewoman, pacing around.
"And yet every time I come in here, it's even filthier. I mean, what the hell? You just have to get a mop and clean at least a layer of the dirt in here," I said, sliding my finger on the desk, shaking my head at the sight of the accumulation of dust in my finger. I rubbed it off, and enjoyed the frustrated expression Sanders had been giving me. I put my legs on the chair opposing to me.
"Listen here boy, I could throw you in prison at this moment just because of your behaviour. And, you vandalized several parts of this town, and punched Ryder, my own son, for catching you and threatening to call the police." Her tone had been stern, and her eyes were cutting through me like daggers. I knew that she especially hated the fact that I'd hit her idiotic son.
"First of all, you call this a town? My dear Julie, where I lived, your precious Silvercrest is a pathetic excuse of a town; scrapes of what you could call an actual town-" I paused, resisting the urge to laugh at the policewoman's red face. You see, she was a redhead, so you could understand my point of view. She literally looked like a tomato.
"Don't-Julie-idiot-town-smug-bastard," She muttered under her breath, through clenched teeth.
"-second, your son may be my age, but he's a coward. He could've hit me back, and defended himself instead of staying on the floor, holding his nose."
"That's because you broke it!" She exclaimed, now fuming.
"Calm down, Julie. You know stress isn't good for...you know, elderly women," I finished off with a wink. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked like she was about to punch something.
"I AM NOT OLD! I'll let you know, I'm under fourt-fifty."
That's when my dear father entered the room, a huge grimace present on his face. Our gaze met, and he shook his head. Rolling my eyes, I watched as James Forrest and the police woman were talking in not-so hushed voices.
"What did he do this time?" He asked, folding his arms, a habit he would do when stressed.
"He sprayed paint on Mr. Santiago's lawn, and wrote Vete a la mierda!. The Santiago family is Spanish. So imagine at one point they were insulted?"
"Yes, and I apologize. I will pay for all damages, and I'm praying that you'd let him off with a notice this time too, love?" He finished off with a questioning glance, as I knew he let the "love" part slide in just to soften her heart. I snorted, and he gave me a quick glare; shut-the-fuck-up-you're-in-trouble.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Forrest. I've been extremely kind with him, only because he's new in town. Two small acts of vandalism and three of smoking in a gas station or trespassing in different parts of town is just not acceptable. I'm afraid he will have to spend the night in a cell, just to learn a lesson. Because, so far, he has not been a very ideal citizen to Silvercrest." She said in a stern tone, although a slight blush crept her cheeks at the way my own father was looking a her.
"Call me James. And, please, Julie, I'm begging you. Is there anything he could do to learn his lesson, but not by spending time in jail? He's my only son, and I really want him to adjust here. You know how hard it is, we just moved here."
It took me all the power in the world to suppress a laugh, because he was giving her the mastered Forrest puppy dog eyes, and judging by her softened face, she was falling for it.
"Well, I suppose he could do community service-"
I perked up, not very pleased with the concept. Dad however, seemed happy.
"Oh, anything. As long as it gets him out of jail, right Nico?"
Silence.
"Right, Nico?"
It seemed as if she took my silence as a sign of approval, because what she said next gave me an instant headache.
"Um, well, there's the fact that Mr. Walters, our beloved mailman, is retiring. And we need someone to help Zoey with the mail every week day. How does that sound, Forrest?" She said, cautiously eyeing me.
Zoey?
Now why did that name seem so bloody familiar?
Maybe because Zoey was the cute Canadian who hated me and had been not-so subtly hiding from me when she saw me around. This should be interesting.
"Sure, when do I start?"
A few hours later at Mr. Walters house; Zoey Hunter.
"So, Walters. What's up?" I said, taking a small sip of Mrs. Walters' famous lemonade. Walters furrowed his eyebrows in deep concentration, nervously tapping a finger on the table.
Lucy Carpena , my one and only best friend, was very concentrated on her cup of lemon juice. She raised an eyebrow, observantly.
"The sky," he chuckled, winking at me. I shook my head at the stupidly overused joke.
"No, just no. Anywho, what I meant was what's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" He asked, even though I had a feeling that he knew exactly what I was talking about.
"I mean; inviting Lucy and I over for dinner, being extra-nice, making Beatrice bake me muffins. Something's up."
"Well..." He trailed off, a grimace appearing on my face at his expression. Lucy grimaced as well, and it was never good when she grimaced.
"Come on, just tell me. Don't you dare sugarcoat anything. It'll be like ripping a band-aid."
He sighed, and rubbed his forehead, signs of fatigue appearing. The wrinkles under his eyes made me worry, this seemed really serious.
"Okay, listen Zoey, and I don't want you to get mad or emotional whatsoever. Well, you know how Bea has always wanted me to stay home with her and watch television all day? Or how she's always wanted to spend a part of her life somewhere in Europe?"
My breath caught in my throat, and I struggled to reply.
"So, you're moving away?"
He fervently shook his head. I chewed on my bottom lip, a horrible habit I had since childhood.
"Let's just say that I won't be delivering mail with you every morning."
"You're..." I trailed off, at a loss of words.
"Retiring."
Lucy and I let out a gasp, and I was at a loss for words.
Walters and I have been delivering mail for almost ten years. In the beginning, he just liked to bring me along because my 6 year old cheekiness always made people smile. He was the only mailman this town had, and one of my best friends. He was like my own grandpa, considering as my only grandparent had died a year ago. Delivering mail with him was a part of my life, and I couldn't bare the thought of him retiring.
I just couldn't.
"B-But why?" I asked, as tears formed in my eyes and I struggled to push them away.
I never cried, and I wouldn't let something like this break me.
Beatrice Walters placed a hand over his shoulder, smiling at me with warmth. He looked up at her with the same love-sick stare that never got old with them. That brought a little happiness into my heart, but I couldn't bring myself to smile.
"Harry wants to travel around Europe while he still has the age, and frankly, so do I."
"So, you're retiring and traveling away?" A bewildered Lucy asked this time, surprise written all over her features.
"Our plane to France is in a week," shyly declared Walters.
"Who's going to deliver the mail now? I mean I could do it alone but-"
"Yes, I know. I have it all planned out. Julie and I spoke, and she has someone for the job. It will be both of you though."
I groaned, putting my head in my hands. Grumbling, I felt my feet tap on the floor impatiently.
"Who?" questioned Lucy, biting on her fingernails. Walters scratched the back of his head hesitantly.
"Um, do you remember the newcomers?"
Silence.
"Remember the boy, Nico?"
"Yeeeaaah?" I mumbled, a huge headache making its way into my system just by hearing his name. I'd been avoiding him all week, even though I knew that he was a troublemaker. You see, in Silvercrest; news travel really fast. He liked to vandalize and according to whatever insults he sprayed on people's lawns; he spoke multiple languages.
"He's your new mail-buddy."
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This is where it all begins mouhahahhahah.
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