A/N Chapter three? Whoa! We are going to redo chapter one... sometime...
but don't worry! It's not going to be as bad next time :P we promiseeeee
This chapter Ty is coming! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee
The next day, I find myself spending the day in Leon's cottage once again. The old man stands in front of the yellowed mirror, examining his ragged appearance.
"Maybe I should get a hair cut" He runs his fingers through the untidy hair draping over his shoulders. I glance at my reflection behind him, comparing my short, choppy locks to his long strands. "I'll just brush it" Mr. Koppinger cringes as he detangles his rat's nest of hair. I walk over to collect the pots and pans scattered over the kitchen island, trying to continue the chore we had started earlier. I stack them into an already stuffed cabinet, and shove the door closed, walking over to the cutlery drawer to continue our work.
"Don't worry about the kitchen, Birdie, I'll handle that. I would love it if you could organize the spare bedroom, though" He motions towards the hallway, and I gladly shuffle into the small room. The bed is crowded with multicoloured duvets and soft pillows. Books are stacked on the rugs covering the floor, dirt collecting on the torn covers. I flop down on the bed and a cloud of dust billows out around me.
"We have a lot of work to do." I cough and Leon peeks his head around the door.
"Pull all the covers off and we'll hang them outside." he instructs and I drag the heavy blanket through the house, down the front steps and throw them over the crooked clothesline. When I get back inside, Mr.Koppinger is balancing on top of a teetering stack of boxes, trying to reach something behind the tall chest of drawers.
"Oh, Leon, let me get it!" I cry as he wobbles dangerously. He climbs down slowly and I hop onto the massive pile of boxes and strain to reach behind the dresser. I grab something square and then before I can stop it, I topple over and crash to the ground. The picture frame slips from fingers and shatters.
"Birdie, are you okay?" he grabs my arm as a stagger to my feet.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I sit down on the couch and rub the welt on my head. "But I don't know about your picture" I hold up the busted frame and peer at the photo trapped inside. The picture is of a family. A little boy stands between his parents, and I can see Leon resting his hands on the boy's shoulders, a smile plastered on his face.
"Ah" Mr. Koppinger grins and takes the cracked frame from my grasp. "That's my son-" he points to the father, "That's his wife, and there's little Ty, when he was four years old" Leon slides the picture from the wrecked frame. He grabs another frame from a stack in the corner, and slips the photo into it. He passes the photo back to me and gets up to sweep away the shattered glass. I position the frame beside the numerous vases on the coffee table.
"I'll finish cleaning the spare bedroom"
Back in the dusty room, I begin to carry the multiple piles of books and dump them on the kitchen table. I go back to the bedroom and peer under the bed. I suddenly scream and jump onto the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Mr.Koppinger races in.
“A mouse!” I shriek. “There’s a mouse under the bed!”
Leon leans over and looks under the bed frame.
“Oh, it’s dead.” I shudder and curl up into a ball. He pulls in the vacuum and maneuvers the nozzle underneath the bed. After I hear the rodent’s bony body travel through the tube and land in the vacuum bag, I tentatively step back onto the floor.
"You can't have mice in your house!" I cross my arms over my chest. "It's unsanitary!"
Mr.Koppinger looks embarrassed.
"Okay, okay, I promise to go buy traps later, okay?" He sighs, unlatching the vacuum bag and dumping its contents out the window. I finish getting the room ready for Ty, and head to Leon's bedroom.
"Holy guacamole!" I exclaim, as the whiff of curdled milk and mouldy sandwiches hits my nose like a semi truck. "Good thing we're cleaning, this is even less sanitary than the dead mouse" I stumble through sweatshirts stacked high, clutching my nose. The bed smells like greasy narwhals, and by this point I have vomit in the back of my throat. I begin to pile various articles of muddy clothing into a hamper, and repeat the action into the twenty other hampers Leon has folded in the corner. Ten minutes pass before I hear Mr. Koppinger speak.
"Say, why haven't you been working at the marina lately? You used to be there every day" I turn towards the man, who is dusting off crates of knickknacks. He raises a furry eyebrow.
"It's like this every hurricane season" I explain, placing a newspaper on the bed so that I can sit down. "Papa is always worrying about the storm hitting earlier than expected, so he shuts down the docks early" I reposition the sheet of paper, making sure not to get a grimy patch on my butt from the comforter. "I never really have to do any work when there are no customers" I giggle, and scratch the healing burn on my shoulders. The room looks much neater than when we entered, because there aren't mountains of clothing piled up to the ceiling. Picking up a stuffed hamper in each hand, I manage my way over to the washer, which is located outside of Leon's bedroom. The drum is filled to the brim with only one hamper-full, so I groan and plop the others down beside the clothing washer.
"Whew!" Mr.Koppinger exhales, wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow. "That was a lot of work, I think that we deserve a little break!" I follow him down the hall to the kitchen and sit down at the table as he rummages through the nearly-empty refrigerator. He grabs everything in one armful and plops it all down on the counter.
"Just take whatever you want." he says, pulling two glasses from the cabinet and filling them both with tap water.
I avoid taking the suspicious smelling cheese and settle for the safest thing I can find; a chocolate pudding cup. Leon sits down at the table beside me and sighs. I look at the pile of food on the counter and then back at him with my eyes narrowed.
"I know, I know. I should've went shopping." Leon raises his hands and then hides them underneath the oak table. "But I've just been so busy lately!"
I open the pudding cup and sniff it it tentatively. It smells alright, so I cautiously dip my spoon in and lick it.
Mr.Koppinger drums his fingers on the table and sips his water. The sun pours through the now-clean window pane and lights the kitchen in its soft glow. Beautiful days like this make me wonder about Mom. Thoughts like where she is and if she's happy. Does she ever think of me? Maybe even regret leaving her daughter? Miss me?
Then I remember her new family and imagine their big house in the city, all of them cozy in their fancy living room, crowded around the electric fireplace. Does she remember her old house, with the tearing wallpaper and the holes in the roof? Does she remember that she left me there?
Sometimes I think that I'd like to see her, even for just an hour. I could talk to her, hug her and then when she left with a proper goodbye, it would be some sort of closure for me, so that I'm not always feeling so empty and lost. But then I think about her pulling up in her nice car with her new daughter with her friends laughing in the backseat at the loser daughter with the mommy issues. I think about seeing my mother look at me and thinking, "Good thing I left!" I just want to know if she kept her promise about always loving me. Maybe she has, or maybe she's simply forgot about the little girl that she left behind. I shudder and lick the remaining globs of pudding from the little plastic container.
"You know, you really should buy some more food." I say, putting the spoon inside the empty cup. It tips over and rolls towards me. "You're going to have a teenaged boy living around here."
"Oh, I never thought of that!" Leon sighs, running a hand down the back of his neck. He rummages in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Slapping a couple bills down onto the table, he grins.
"Do you think you could go, you'd know better what to buy."
I get up and take the money.
"Sure. I'll be back in twenty minutes." I reply, turning and walking outside into the sunny afternoon. Walking down Main Street, I barely see anyone out around town. There is a soft breeze caressing my face, and as I cross the creek that seperates Leon's house from the small village, I can feel the chilly water splash up onto my ankles.
I get to the store merely minutes later. I grab a basket and head straight to the snack aisle.
"Ty must like chips..." I mutter to myself, pulling a bag from the shelf. "I mean, everyone likes chips!"
I pile more and more food into the basket, adding whatever I think Ty will eat. I buy mostly frozen food or junk food, remembering Leon's horrific crepe. When I turn down the aisle with the shelves stacked high with canned goods, I am surprised to see Kittie at the other end of the aisle, browsing through a variety of baked beans. She picks up a can examines it before pulling her wallet from her purse. She skims through the bills and sighs, shaking her head and placing the food back along the identical cans.
For a second, I feel bad for her. She can't even afford to buy food for herself. The pity vanishes quickly though, as I see her take the can again and slip it discreetly into her bag. Kittie looks up and her stare bores into my eyes.
She raises one finger, places it to her lips and then slides it across her throat in the well-known sign for 'tell and you're dead.' My heart hammers and all the terrible things that she could do to me flood my mind. Before I can stop myself, I nod shakily and satisfied, she turns on her heel and walks away.
I follow her to the checkout. She pays for a few items, but the cashier doesn't seem to notice her bulging purse. She leaves quickly and I pay for the food I'm purchasing as fast as I can and chase after her.
Kittie walks rapidly down the street and I jog after her calling her name.
"Kittie, stop right now!" I holler, and she breaks out into a run. I sprint behind her and feeling cornered, she reluctantly slows to a shameful trudge.
"Kittie, what was that?" I jab my hand angrily in the direction of the grocery store. Kittie looks me straight in the face and frowns.
"What was what?" she asks innocently, tilting her head slightly. I glare at her.
"Don't be stupid." I growl. "We both know what you did." I rip her bag from her shoulder and open to see all her stolen things. There's some cans of food, a tube of toothpaste, probably ten dollars worth of candy and a magazine.
I empty the objects onto the sidewalk.
"Look at all this!" I cry, waving my hands in the air like a maniac. "Kittie, you can't st-"
Kittie slaps a hand over my mouth.
"Shut up." she hisses, gathering her stuff and leading me down a back alley. It's dark and cool, and for a second I panic, thinking that she's going to beat me up. Shockingly though, she crumples to the ground in sobs.
"I walked in there with every intention of paying, Birdie, honestly!" she whimpers, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "It's just so expensive... I mean..."
I exhale and sit on the ground beside her.
"You could have asked Papa for money." I say pointedly. "I'm sure he could've helped you."
"I know..." Kittie whispers. "But it's just so... embarrassing!"
"We'll help you." I answer, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "Just promise never to steal again." Kittie throws the items back into her purse, and walks away. I watch the slight body fade into the distance and sigh. I pick up my various bags of junk and pop open a box of cheese puffs. By the time I have finished my snack, I am back standing on Leon's porch, as I have done many times before. As I walk in, I can smell the strong scent of cleaning product. I set the paper bags on the counter and begin to stock the food into empty cupboards. Leon rounds the corner, and smiles at me. I can tell that he's been working on the laundry.
"Ty's mother called. He'll be arriving shortly" He folds a sweater and places it into a growing pile. I hear the creak of a door and tear through the hallway to straighten the guests's bedspread. I catch my reflection in the mirror hanging in the hall and wish that I had brought a hairbrush. I try to stick my hair behind my ears for a moment before giving up and racing to finish the chores. There's a knock on the front door and Mr.Koppinger answers cheerily.
"Ty! Come on in!"
I peek around the corner, trying not to be noticed, but Leon sees me and calls "Birdie, come meet Ty!"
I enter the living room and turn to face Tyler.
"H-hi" I stammer, avoiding look him in the face.
He nods and Leon claps his hands. "I hope that you two are going to be friends!"
I take a deep breath. "Hi, I'm Kestrel." I wrinkle my nose at my unused name. "But you can call me Birdie. I work at the marina where your grandfather docks his boat!"
"I'm Ty." Ty rolls his head back and I finally get a good look at his eyes.
"Nice to meet you." I reply and stick out my hand. He stares at it and then tucks his own hands in his pockets. Mr.Koppinger doesn't seem to notice though and beams at his grandson.
"I'm going to go get some snacks!" he calls, heading to the kitchen. "You two make yourselves at home!"
Ty flops down on the couch and grabs a magazine from the side table. When I sit down beside him, he not-so-subtly inches away.
"I don-" I start, but he interrupts me.
"Look, I won't bother you as long as you don't bother me, got it?" Tyler threatens, putting his feet up onto the coffee table. I catch the frame that was replaced earlier and fold it underneath the chesterfield. Before I can reply, Leon is back, balancing a tray of drinks.
"Thank you." I take one from him and place it on the table. Ty take one, but it slips from his fingers. He swears as the cola soaks into the carpet. Mr.Koppinger and I are on our knees, cleaning up the mess while Ty turns to lie down on the sofa.
"Aren't you going to help?" I snap, dabbing the rug with a paper towel. "You're the one who spilled it."
Ty exhales loudly and rolls his eyes. He gets down on the floor and is wipes at the stain with a napkin. He then gets up and drags himself to his room.
Leon is oblivious to Tyler's rudeness.
"Isn't he just the best?" His eyes sparkle with pride. I shrug, but don't say anything, not wanting to hurt the old man.
I get up and see Ty's bag lying by the door. It feels surprisingly light considering he is staying for two months, but I shake the feeling off. I lay the duffel outside of his room, and walk back to the kitchen where Leon is sitting, giddy, at the island. I slide in beside him, and pluck a cheese cube from the giant platter of snacks he had readied. While I munch on the squishy delicacy, my good friend twiddles his thumbs for awhile, but finally speaks up.
"I know that Ty isn't exactly the most well-behaved boy out there" He sighs, and stabs another cube with a toothpick. "Like I said a few days ago, I think being here will be good for him. Please, Birdie, will you put up with him for that long?" I look up, Mr. Koppinger's eyes sincere. I ponder his suggestion for awhile. I was never too good at handling people who were unrationally rude and I wasn't exactly willing to be up to that challenge. As much as I hated the task I was put up to, it was my duty to complete it.
"Of course" I smile.
"Hey, Birdie, I have a present for you" Mr. Koppinger reaches into the satchel hanging on his stool and heaves out a thick book, with sleek black covers and a strap of leather tied around the middle. I gasp, taking the sketchbook from his hands, and hug it to my chest. Tears pop out of my eyes and roll down my flushed cheeks.
"This- is it? It's Grandpappy's?" On the Sundays we spent together, we would always sketch things after eating lunch. Most of the time, Grandpa would just look at me while I drew, not using his sketchbook much at all. I can still see him sitting beside me, the book I hold resting in his lap. "I can't believe it" My tears are hitting the open pages as I flip through the first few sketches. "Thank you so much" Leon 's hand pats my back comfortingly.
"You're welcome, sweetie"
I grab a tissue just as Tyler walks into the room and snags a handful of pretzels.
"Why are you crying? Such a wuss" He spits, spraying bits of food onto the clean counter. I swallow my tears before I say anything rude, remembering my promise to Leon. Ty opens the fridge, and grabs a cola. "I'll be at the beach"
"I should probably go, too" I hug Mr. Koppinger, thanking him greatly for the memory of Grandpappy, and walk out the door behind Ty. We trudge down the dirt road leading to our destinations for awhile. He doesn't talk, and neither do I, until the path finally fades into the sandy planks of the beach's boardwalk. Before we part ways, I stop to look at the tall boy.
"Have a good day!" I skip off, pulling the sketchbook in closer. I can hear him grunt, but don't really pay attention to it. On the short way from where I dropped off Tyler to my house, I am greeted by many people. I smile at each, and by the time I reach my front door I'm in a very cheery mood.
Deciding to go and sit down by the docks, I gather my own sketchbook and bring it along with Grandpappy's. I dangle my feet over the edge, my legs nowhere near long enough to touch my toes to the water. I open my Granfather's sketchbook and flip through the pages. The drawings are simple, yet breathtakingly beautiful. My grandfather's extraordinary talent is visible in each stroke and I stare at each sketch for a good five minutes. One drawing makes me freeze. I run my hand over the page, a child with her sketchbook open on her lap etched into the paper. It takes a minute for it to register; that young girl is me. A tear rolls onto the page and I slam the book closed to avoid wrecking it. I put it down on the ground beside me and pick up my own sketchbook.
My drawings were ugly and horrible compared to Grandpappy's art. I sigh and try to draw the late afternoon sun reflecting off the ocean, but it was impossible to capture the moment. Frustrated, I violently scribble across the page, a black smear over the endless ocean. I'm out of control, covering ever corner of the page as dark as I can. The book slips from my lap and lands with a splash in the water below.
"No!"
I reach as far as I can, but I am unable to grab it. Panicking, I consider jumping in, but get a better idea and sprint down the dock.
I race down the dirt path to the shore and grab one of the kayaks from the small beach. The water is as smooth as glass, reflecting the setting sun across the sparkling ocean. I inhale at the stunning sight as I paddle rapidly to the docks.
As fast as I can, I thrust my paddle into the ocean and push myself over to my sinking sketchbook. I shake the water from the pages, but I'm doubtful that it will ever be usable again. I swallow and try to hold back the tears, but I had had the sketchbook since my grandfather had given it to me for my fifth birthday.
"I saw how you admired my sketchbook," I remember Grandpappy placing the sketchbook in my outstretched hands. "So I got you one just like mine."
I'm sobbing now. I tuck the book beside me in the boat and take off down the shoreline, too upset to think about what I'm doing.
Gliding across the water, I breathe in the salty air. The serenity of it all calms me down and soon my eyes are dry. I paddle for an hour before the sun dips further below the horizon and I am forced to head back.
A sudden cry followed by a splash makes my pulse quicken. Turning slightly I see someone behind me thrashing in the water beside an overturned kayak.
I paddle over as fast as I can. The boy struggles to swim, his head dipping below the surface and then popping up gasping. Finally he grabs a hold on his kayak and floats limp in the water.
"Climb on, I'll give you a ride back." I say as the boy turns to face me. "Oh, it's you."
Ty scowls at me, water running down his face.
I'm not sure why my heart flutters as he climbs on the back of my kayak, but I try to stay cool. His shirt clings to his broad shoulders and I quickly look away so he doesn't witness my blush.
"Are you okay?" I ask, but he just shivers in reply.
I start to paddle, dragging the soaked kayak along beside me.
"What were you doing out here by yourself?" I ask, nervously eyeing the darkening sky. Papa is going to be mad if I stay out late, especially since he's been working so hard in preparation for the hurricane.
"None of you business." Tyler snaps, staring at the land.
"Hey, you don't have to be so rude..." I feel my temper rising but try to remain calm. He just fell into the ocean, he has a right to be upset.
"Fine. I followed you." Ty grumbles. "But only because this town is so freaking boring and I didn't know what else to do. Apparently kayaking isn't as easy as it looks."
"You've never kayaked before?" I paddle harder, anxious to drop the angry boy off.
"Good observation." he replies sarcastically.
I'm getting mad now.
"Excuse me, but I just saved you so if-"
"Saved me?" Tyler snorts. "You think that you saved me? Don't be an idiot."
I spin around to face him.
"Idiot?" I practically shout in his face. "Are you calling me stupid?"
He stares me right in the eyes, puffs out his chest and answers cooly, "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Without thinking, I shove him and he topples into the water. He cries out, splashing and waving him arms. He grabs a hold of my kayak tightly.
"Get off." I snarl, trying to pry his fingers from the boat.
"Birdie!" Ty cries, desperately clinging on. "Please don't leave me!"
"Why not?" I challenge, crossing my arms defensively.
Ty stares up at me, a different look in his eyes. He looks weak and vulnerable, maybe even scared.
"Because you can't." he says, obviously trying to hide his fear. "I know that you're too nice to just leave me here."
I swallow. His words ring true; I knew that if I left him here in the dark with a sunken kayak and no directions to get back to town, I would feel massively guilty. I sigh and nod. He climbs back on the boat and is silent all the way home.
We reach the shore, and Ty hops out into the rising tide, sending splashes of sandy water up onto the shore.
"I'll be leaving now, I guess" He looks at his feet, kicking up sandy billows in the shallow ocean. He trudges away without a thank-you. I sigh and collect the water-logged sketchbook from the bench beside me, its pages too wrinkled to salvage, colours bleached from the salty water. I swing myself over the side of the kayak and drag it underneath the dock, tying an expert knot to keep it from floating away during the hurricane.
"Shoot!" In the distance, I can make out my grandfather's sketchbook laying open on the edge of the dock in danger of tipping into the water. Its leather ribbon is caught in the breeze but has yet to escape the pages of Grandpappy's book. I run as fast as I can towards the keepsake before it blows away. "Thank goodness" I exclaim, trying to keep it away from the sopping wet sketchbook I clutch in my other hand. My job was to keep my relative's book safe.
A/N This is so bad! We're sorry :P
I hope you enjoyed it! We've been practising our writing lately, and I think it's gotten better!
Critiques and comments of any kind are loved! We appreciate any feedback :)
~Fedora and What
but don't worry! It's not going to be as bad next time :P we promiseeeee
This chapter Ty is coming! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee
The next day, I find myself spending the day in Leon's cottage once again. The old man stands in front of the yellowed mirror, examining his ragged appearance.
"Maybe I should get a hair cut" He runs his fingers through the untidy hair draping over his shoulders. I glance at my reflection behind him, comparing my short, choppy locks to his long strands. "I'll just brush it" Mr. Koppinger cringes as he detangles his rat's nest of hair. I walk over to collect the pots and pans scattered over the kitchen island, trying to continue the chore we had started earlier. I stack them into an already stuffed cabinet, and shove the door closed, walking over to the cutlery drawer to continue our work.
"Don't worry about the kitchen, Birdie, I'll handle that. I would love it if you could organize the spare bedroom, though" He motions towards the hallway, and I gladly shuffle into the small room. The bed is crowded with multicoloured duvets and soft pillows. Books are stacked on the rugs covering the floor, dirt collecting on the torn covers. I flop down on the bed and a cloud of dust billows out around me.
"We have a lot of work to do." I cough and Leon peeks his head around the door.
"Pull all the covers off and we'll hang them outside." he instructs and I drag the heavy blanket through the house, down the front steps and throw them over the crooked clothesline. When I get back inside, Mr.Koppinger is balancing on top of a teetering stack of boxes, trying to reach something behind the tall chest of drawers.
"Oh, Leon, let me get it!" I cry as he wobbles dangerously. He climbs down slowly and I hop onto the massive pile of boxes and strain to reach behind the dresser. I grab something square and then before I can stop it, I topple over and crash to the ground. The picture frame slips from fingers and shatters.
"Birdie, are you okay?" he grabs my arm as a stagger to my feet.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I sit down on the couch and rub the welt on my head. "But I don't know about your picture" I hold up the busted frame and peer at the photo trapped inside. The picture is of a family. A little boy stands between his parents, and I can see Leon resting his hands on the boy's shoulders, a smile plastered on his face.
"Ah" Mr. Koppinger grins and takes the cracked frame from my grasp. "That's my son-" he points to the father, "That's his wife, and there's little Ty, when he was four years old" Leon slides the picture from the wrecked frame. He grabs another frame from a stack in the corner, and slips the photo into it. He passes the photo back to me and gets up to sweep away the shattered glass. I position the frame beside the numerous vases on the coffee table.
"I'll finish cleaning the spare bedroom"
Back in the dusty room, I begin to carry the multiple piles of books and dump them on the kitchen table. I go back to the bedroom and peer under the bed. I suddenly scream and jump onto the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Mr.Koppinger races in.
“A mouse!” I shriek. “There’s a mouse under the bed!”
Leon leans over and looks under the bed frame.
“Oh, it’s dead.” I shudder and curl up into a ball. He pulls in the vacuum and maneuvers the nozzle underneath the bed. After I hear the rodent’s bony body travel through the tube and land in the vacuum bag, I tentatively step back onto the floor.
"You can't have mice in your house!" I cross my arms over my chest. "It's unsanitary!"
Mr.Koppinger looks embarrassed.
"Okay, okay, I promise to go buy traps later, okay?" He sighs, unlatching the vacuum bag and dumping its contents out the window. I finish getting the room ready for Ty, and head to Leon's bedroom.
"Holy guacamole!" I exclaim, as the whiff of curdled milk and mouldy sandwiches hits my nose like a semi truck. "Good thing we're cleaning, this is even less sanitary than the dead mouse" I stumble through sweatshirts stacked high, clutching my nose. The bed smells like greasy narwhals, and by this point I have vomit in the back of my throat. I begin to pile various articles of muddy clothing into a hamper, and repeat the action into the twenty other hampers Leon has folded in the corner. Ten minutes pass before I hear Mr. Koppinger speak.
"Say, why haven't you been working at the marina lately? You used to be there every day" I turn towards the man, who is dusting off crates of knickknacks. He raises a furry eyebrow.
"It's like this every hurricane season" I explain, placing a newspaper on the bed so that I can sit down. "Papa is always worrying about the storm hitting earlier than expected, so he shuts down the docks early" I reposition the sheet of paper, making sure not to get a grimy patch on my butt from the comforter. "I never really have to do any work when there are no customers" I giggle, and scratch the healing burn on my shoulders. The room looks much neater than when we entered, because there aren't mountains of clothing piled up to the ceiling. Picking up a stuffed hamper in each hand, I manage my way over to the washer, which is located outside of Leon's bedroom. The drum is filled to the brim with only one hamper-full, so I groan and plop the others down beside the clothing washer.
"Whew!" Mr.Koppinger exhales, wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow. "That was a lot of work, I think that we deserve a little break!" I follow him down the hall to the kitchen and sit down at the table as he rummages through the nearly-empty refrigerator. He grabs everything in one armful and plops it all down on the counter.
"Just take whatever you want." he says, pulling two glasses from the cabinet and filling them both with tap water.
I avoid taking the suspicious smelling cheese and settle for the safest thing I can find; a chocolate pudding cup. Leon sits down at the table beside me and sighs. I look at the pile of food on the counter and then back at him with my eyes narrowed.
"I know, I know. I should've went shopping." Leon raises his hands and then hides them underneath the oak table. "But I've just been so busy lately!"
I open the pudding cup and sniff it it tentatively. It smells alright, so I cautiously dip my spoon in and lick it.
Mr.Koppinger drums his fingers on the table and sips his water. The sun pours through the now-clean window pane and lights the kitchen in its soft glow. Beautiful days like this make me wonder about Mom. Thoughts like where she is and if she's happy. Does she ever think of me? Maybe even regret leaving her daughter? Miss me?
Then I remember her new family and imagine their big house in the city, all of them cozy in their fancy living room, crowded around the electric fireplace. Does she remember her old house, with the tearing wallpaper and the holes in the roof? Does she remember that she left me there?
Sometimes I think that I'd like to see her, even for just an hour. I could talk to her, hug her and then when she left with a proper goodbye, it would be some sort of closure for me, so that I'm not always feeling so empty and lost. But then I think about her pulling up in her nice car with her new daughter with her friends laughing in the backseat at the loser daughter with the mommy issues. I think about seeing my mother look at me and thinking, "Good thing I left!" I just want to know if she kept her promise about always loving me. Maybe she has, or maybe she's simply forgot about the little girl that she left behind. I shudder and lick the remaining globs of pudding from the little plastic container.
"You know, you really should buy some more food." I say, putting the spoon inside the empty cup. It tips over and rolls towards me. "You're going to have a teenaged boy living around here."
"Oh, I never thought of that!" Leon sighs, running a hand down the back of his neck. He rummages in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Slapping a couple bills down onto the table, he grins.
"Do you think you could go, you'd know better what to buy."
I get up and take the money.
"Sure. I'll be back in twenty minutes." I reply, turning and walking outside into the sunny afternoon. Walking down Main Street, I barely see anyone out around town. There is a soft breeze caressing my face, and as I cross the creek that seperates Leon's house from the small village, I can feel the chilly water splash up onto my ankles.
I get to the store merely minutes later. I grab a basket and head straight to the snack aisle.
"Ty must like chips..." I mutter to myself, pulling a bag from the shelf. "I mean, everyone likes chips!"
I pile more and more food into the basket, adding whatever I think Ty will eat. I buy mostly frozen food or junk food, remembering Leon's horrific crepe. When I turn down the aisle with the shelves stacked high with canned goods, I am surprised to see Kittie at the other end of the aisle, browsing through a variety of baked beans. She picks up a can examines it before pulling her wallet from her purse. She skims through the bills and sighs, shaking her head and placing the food back along the identical cans.
For a second, I feel bad for her. She can't even afford to buy food for herself. The pity vanishes quickly though, as I see her take the can again and slip it discreetly into her bag. Kittie looks up and her stare bores into my eyes.
She raises one finger, places it to her lips and then slides it across her throat in the well-known sign for 'tell and you're dead.' My heart hammers and all the terrible things that she could do to me flood my mind. Before I can stop myself, I nod shakily and satisfied, she turns on her heel and walks away.
I follow her to the checkout. She pays for a few items, but the cashier doesn't seem to notice her bulging purse. She leaves quickly and I pay for the food I'm purchasing as fast as I can and chase after her.
Kittie walks rapidly down the street and I jog after her calling her name.
"Kittie, stop right now!" I holler, and she breaks out into a run. I sprint behind her and feeling cornered, she reluctantly slows to a shameful trudge.
"Kittie, what was that?" I jab my hand angrily in the direction of the grocery store. Kittie looks me straight in the face and frowns.
"What was what?" she asks innocently, tilting her head slightly. I glare at her.
"Don't be stupid." I growl. "We both know what you did." I rip her bag from her shoulder and open to see all her stolen things. There's some cans of food, a tube of toothpaste, probably ten dollars worth of candy and a magazine.
I empty the objects onto the sidewalk.
"Look at all this!" I cry, waving my hands in the air like a maniac. "Kittie, you can't st-"
Kittie slaps a hand over my mouth.
"Shut up." she hisses, gathering her stuff and leading me down a back alley. It's dark and cool, and for a second I panic, thinking that she's going to beat me up. Shockingly though, she crumples to the ground in sobs.
"I walked in there with every intention of paying, Birdie, honestly!" she whimpers, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "It's just so expensive... I mean..."
I exhale and sit on the ground beside her.
"You could have asked Papa for money." I say pointedly. "I'm sure he could've helped you."
"I know..." Kittie whispers. "But it's just so... embarrassing!"
"We'll help you." I answer, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "Just promise never to steal again." Kittie throws the items back into her purse, and walks away. I watch the slight body fade into the distance and sigh. I pick up my various bags of junk and pop open a box of cheese puffs. By the time I have finished my snack, I am back standing on Leon's porch, as I have done many times before. As I walk in, I can smell the strong scent of cleaning product. I set the paper bags on the counter and begin to stock the food into empty cupboards. Leon rounds the corner, and smiles at me. I can tell that he's been working on the laundry.
"Ty's mother called. He'll be arriving shortly" He folds a sweater and places it into a growing pile. I hear the creak of a door and tear through the hallway to straighten the guests's bedspread. I catch my reflection in the mirror hanging in the hall and wish that I had brought a hairbrush. I try to stick my hair behind my ears for a moment before giving up and racing to finish the chores. There's a knock on the front door and Mr.Koppinger answers cheerily.
"Ty! Come on in!"
I peek around the corner, trying not to be noticed, but Leon sees me and calls "Birdie, come meet Ty!"
I enter the living room and turn to face Tyler.
"H-hi" I stammer, avoiding look him in the face.
He nods and Leon claps his hands. "I hope that you two are going to be friends!"
I take a deep breath. "Hi, I'm Kestrel." I wrinkle my nose at my unused name. "But you can call me Birdie. I work at the marina where your grandfather docks his boat!"
"I'm Ty." Ty rolls his head back and I finally get a good look at his eyes.
"Nice to meet you." I reply and stick out my hand. He stares at it and then tucks his own hands in his pockets. Mr.Koppinger doesn't seem to notice though and beams at his grandson.
"I'm going to go get some snacks!" he calls, heading to the kitchen. "You two make yourselves at home!"
Ty flops down on the couch and grabs a magazine from the side table. When I sit down beside him, he not-so-subtly inches away.
"I don-" I start, but he interrupts me.
"Look, I won't bother you as long as you don't bother me, got it?" Tyler threatens, putting his feet up onto the coffee table. I catch the frame that was replaced earlier and fold it underneath the chesterfield. Before I can reply, Leon is back, balancing a tray of drinks.
"Thank you." I take one from him and place it on the table. Ty take one, but it slips from his fingers. He swears as the cola soaks into the carpet. Mr.Koppinger and I are on our knees, cleaning up the mess while Ty turns to lie down on the sofa.
"Aren't you going to help?" I snap, dabbing the rug with a paper towel. "You're the one who spilled it."
Ty exhales loudly and rolls his eyes. He gets down on the floor and is wipes at the stain with a napkin. He then gets up and drags himself to his room.
Leon is oblivious to Tyler's rudeness.
"Isn't he just the best?" His eyes sparkle with pride. I shrug, but don't say anything, not wanting to hurt the old man.
I get up and see Ty's bag lying by the door. It feels surprisingly light considering he is staying for two months, but I shake the feeling off. I lay the duffel outside of his room, and walk back to the kitchen where Leon is sitting, giddy, at the island. I slide in beside him, and pluck a cheese cube from the giant platter of snacks he had readied. While I munch on the squishy delicacy, my good friend twiddles his thumbs for awhile, but finally speaks up.
"I know that Ty isn't exactly the most well-behaved boy out there" He sighs, and stabs another cube with a toothpick. "Like I said a few days ago, I think being here will be good for him. Please, Birdie, will you put up with him for that long?" I look up, Mr. Koppinger's eyes sincere. I ponder his suggestion for awhile. I was never too good at handling people who were unrationally rude and I wasn't exactly willing to be up to that challenge. As much as I hated the task I was put up to, it was my duty to complete it.
"Of course" I smile.
"Hey, Birdie, I have a present for you" Mr. Koppinger reaches into the satchel hanging on his stool and heaves out a thick book, with sleek black covers and a strap of leather tied around the middle. I gasp, taking the sketchbook from his hands, and hug it to my chest. Tears pop out of my eyes and roll down my flushed cheeks.
"This- is it? It's Grandpappy's?" On the Sundays we spent together, we would always sketch things after eating lunch. Most of the time, Grandpa would just look at me while I drew, not using his sketchbook much at all. I can still see him sitting beside me, the book I hold resting in his lap. "I can't believe it" My tears are hitting the open pages as I flip through the first few sketches. "Thank you so much" Leon 's hand pats my back comfortingly.
"You're welcome, sweetie"
I grab a tissue just as Tyler walks into the room and snags a handful of pretzels.
"Why are you crying? Such a wuss" He spits, spraying bits of food onto the clean counter. I swallow my tears before I say anything rude, remembering my promise to Leon. Ty opens the fridge, and grabs a cola. "I'll be at the beach"
"I should probably go, too" I hug Mr. Koppinger, thanking him greatly for the memory of Grandpappy, and walk out the door behind Ty. We trudge down the dirt road leading to our destinations for awhile. He doesn't talk, and neither do I, until the path finally fades into the sandy planks of the beach's boardwalk. Before we part ways, I stop to look at the tall boy.
"Have a good day!" I skip off, pulling the sketchbook in closer. I can hear him grunt, but don't really pay attention to it. On the short way from where I dropped off Tyler to my house, I am greeted by many people. I smile at each, and by the time I reach my front door I'm in a very cheery mood.
Deciding to go and sit down by the docks, I gather my own sketchbook and bring it along with Grandpappy's. I dangle my feet over the edge, my legs nowhere near long enough to touch my toes to the water. I open my Granfather's sketchbook and flip through the pages. The drawings are simple, yet breathtakingly beautiful. My grandfather's extraordinary talent is visible in each stroke and I stare at each sketch for a good five minutes. One drawing makes me freeze. I run my hand over the page, a child with her sketchbook open on her lap etched into the paper. It takes a minute for it to register; that young girl is me. A tear rolls onto the page and I slam the book closed to avoid wrecking it. I put it down on the ground beside me and pick up my own sketchbook.
My drawings were ugly and horrible compared to Grandpappy's art. I sigh and try to draw the late afternoon sun reflecting off the ocean, but it was impossible to capture the moment. Frustrated, I violently scribble across the page, a black smear over the endless ocean. I'm out of control, covering ever corner of the page as dark as I can. The book slips from my lap and lands with a splash in the water below.
"No!"
I reach as far as I can, but I am unable to grab it. Panicking, I consider jumping in, but get a better idea and sprint down the dock.
I race down the dirt path to the shore and grab one of the kayaks from the small beach. The water is as smooth as glass, reflecting the setting sun across the sparkling ocean. I inhale at the stunning sight as I paddle rapidly to the docks.
As fast as I can, I thrust my paddle into the ocean and push myself over to my sinking sketchbook. I shake the water from the pages, but I'm doubtful that it will ever be usable again. I swallow and try to hold back the tears, but I had had the sketchbook since my grandfather had given it to me for my fifth birthday.
"I saw how you admired my sketchbook," I remember Grandpappy placing the sketchbook in my outstretched hands. "So I got you one just like mine."
I'm sobbing now. I tuck the book beside me in the boat and take off down the shoreline, too upset to think about what I'm doing.
Gliding across the water, I breathe in the salty air. The serenity of it all calms me down and soon my eyes are dry. I paddle for an hour before the sun dips further below the horizon and I am forced to head back.
A sudden cry followed by a splash makes my pulse quicken. Turning slightly I see someone behind me thrashing in the water beside an overturned kayak.
I paddle over as fast as I can. The boy struggles to swim, his head dipping below the surface and then popping up gasping. Finally he grabs a hold on his kayak and floats limp in the water.
"Climb on, I'll give you a ride back." I say as the boy turns to face me. "Oh, it's you."
Ty scowls at me, water running down his face.
I'm not sure why my heart flutters as he climbs on the back of my kayak, but I try to stay cool. His shirt clings to his broad shoulders and I quickly look away so he doesn't witness my blush.
"Are you okay?" I ask, but he just shivers in reply.
I start to paddle, dragging the soaked kayak along beside me.
"What were you doing out here by yourself?" I ask, nervously eyeing the darkening sky. Papa is going to be mad if I stay out late, especially since he's been working so hard in preparation for the hurricane.
"None of you business." Tyler snaps, staring at the land.
"Hey, you don't have to be so rude..." I feel my temper rising but try to remain calm. He just fell into the ocean, he has a right to be upset.
"Fine. I followed you." Ty grumbles. "But only because this town is so freaking boring and I didn't know what else to do. Apparently kayaking isn't as easy as it looks."
"You've never kayaked before?" I paddle harder, anxious to drop the angry boy off.
"Good observation." he replies sarcastically.
I'm getting mad now.
"Excuse me, but I just saved you so if-"
"Saved me?" Tyler snorts. "You think that you saved me? Don't be an idiot."
I spin around to face him.
"Idiot?" I practically shout in his face. "Are you calling me stupid?"
He stares me right in the eyes, puffs out his chest and answers cooly, "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Without thinking, I shove him and he topples into the water. He cries out, splashing and waving him arms. He grabs a hold of my kayak tightly.
"Get off." I snarl, trying to pry his fingers from the boat.
"Birdie!" Ty cries, desperately clinging on. "Please don't leave me!"
"Why not?" I challenge, crossing my arms defensively.
Ty stares up at me, a different look in his eyes. He looks weak and vulnerable, maybe even scared.
"Because you can't." he says, obviously trying to hide his fear. "I know that you're too nice to just leave me here."
I swallow. His words ring true; I knew that if I left him here in the dark with a sunken kayak and no directions to get back to town, I would feel massively guilty. I sigh and nod. He climbs back on the boat and is silent all the way home.
We reach the shore, and Ty hops out into the rising tide, sending splashes of sandy water up onto the shore.
"I'll be leaving now, I guess" He looks at his feet, kicking up sandy billows in the shallow ocean. He trudges away without a thank-you. I sigh and collect the water-logged sketchbook from the bench beside me, its pages too wrinkled to salvage, colours bleached from the salty water. I swing myself over the side of the kayak and drag it underneath the dock, tying an expert knot to keep it from floating away during the hurricane.
"Shoot!" In the distance, I can make out my grandfather's sketchbook laying open on the edge of the dock in danger of tipping into the water. Its leather ribbon is caught in the breeze but has yet to escape the pages of Grandpappy's book. I run as fast as I can towards the keepsake before it blows away. "Thank goodness" I exclaim, trying to keep it away from the sopping wet sketchbook I clutch in my other hand. My job was to keep my relative's book safe.
A/N This is so bad! We're sorry :P
I hope you enjoyed it! We've been practising our writing lately, and I think it's gotten better!
Critiques and comments of any kind are loved! We appreciate any feedback :)
~Fedora and What
