Page 3 of Our Final Encore

“Yes, ma’am.” I pick my bike up off the grass and swing my leg over it. It’s getting too small for me, I think, and the blue streamers hanging off the handlebars make it look like it’s meant for a toddler. Mom keeps promising she’ll buy me a new one every Christmas, but it never happens.

I take off in the direction of the swimming hole, and sweat begins to bead and drip down my neck. Somewhere to my right I hear a man’s voice, he sounds angry. I swing my head in that direction, alarmed by his tone.Is he yelling at me?

In the driveway at the end of our block I see a boy, and an older man I assume is his dad, standing a few feet apart from each other. The dad has a deep grimace carved between his brows and is pointing at the house behind them.

It’s a cute little house, similar to the other ones in the neighborhood. One story, tan brick, red shutters.

The boy looks annoyed, he shakes his head and harshly opens the back door of their car. He looks over at me, and only then do I realize how long I’ve been sitting here staring. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. Even from all the way across the street I can see that he’s cute. I’m not attracted to many boys, most of them still strike me as being gross or annoying. But this one is definitely cute. Blond shaggy hair, tan skin.

I look away quickly, feeling my face heat up because I know he must have noticed me staring. I place my feet back on the pedals and continue my trek, putting as much distance between the boy and I as possible.

TWO

Alex

“Ineed your help unpacking this shit, Alex,” Dad grunts as he hauls another two boxes through the front door. He smells like sweat and liquor, and my nose wrinkles in disgust.

This place sucks.Of all the places in the world we could’ve moved to, he had to choose Bumfuck, Texas.

Sorry, excuse me,Willow Grove. What a pretentious name, I haven’t even seen a single willow tree. It’s hotter than hell, flat, and as far as I can tell there’s nothing to do here.

It’s like he just had to get as far away from our old home as possible, anything to put the memories there out of his mind. So I guess that’s why he chose a place that looks nothing like it. I miss the crisp air and the mountains, Colorado was home. This place isn’t, and never will be. For so many reasons.

I walk outside, stomping my feet ever so slightly before whipping the door open to retrieve more of my belongings out of the car. When I look up, I make eye contact with a pair of pale blue eyes, so light that they almost look silver. It takes me a second to pull my gaze away from her eyes and around the restof her face, but when I do, I realize she might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life.

Her hair hangs over her shoulders in two matching braids. It’s a unique color, not quite brown, almost kind of gray, but not like an older person’s hair would be. She’s wearing a yellow tank top and a pair of overalls that look way too big for her small frame. She’s unusual looking, but in a good way.

Before I can gather my thoughts, she swings her head away and speeds off on her bike. She’s gone so fast that I almost wonder if she was even there to begin with, or if this heat has just gone to my brain.

Does she live around here? I haven’t seen any other kids in the neighborhood, mostly just older people. I was beginning to think this place was a retirement community.

“Hurry up with those boxes.”

I groan and hoist one of the heavy boxes to my chest.

“You need to start lifting weights or something, son. You shouldn’t be struggling that much.” He shakes his head as I walk through the open door.

Much to my dad’s dismay, I have no interest in lifting weights, or going to the gym, or even playing a sport, for that matter. I’ll watch sports, but I’ve never wanted to play them. Not only because I suck at them, but also because most of the guys on the teams tend to be dickwads. I’d much rather sit in my room alone and play guitar.

Ezra was the athlete. Not only that, but he was also a brainiac. And he actually played guitar, too, on top of it all. He was the perfect son, the perfect brother, the guy everyone wanted to be. And I was always just Alex. I lived in his shadow up until the day he died, and now I’ll forever be expected to fill his shoes.

I carry the box into my new room. The lonely boxspring and twin sized mattress seem to mock me every time I walk in here, Ihave very little desire to unpack or decorate. I drop the box and it hits the floor with a thud.

THREE

Opal

The sounds of laughter and chattering voices swirl around me in the small cafeteria. I had hoped that Maisie and I would get to eat lunch together, but we can only sit with the people in our third period class. Go figure I don’t have any friends in this class, so here I am, sitting at the very end of this long lunch table by myself.

My first week of middle school has gone about how I imagined it would, I feel mostly invisible, but at least that’s better than being a target.

I hear Mark Warden snicker next to me. “Everyone knows you like boys.”

“Ewww. Nasty,” his friend Westley joins in.

I flick my eyes across the table to see the new kid, Alex, sitting next to them, trying his best to silently ignore the two of them and just eat his lunch. I was a little bit surprised when I saw him in class on the first day, for some reason I assumed he was a little older when I first spotted him in our neighborhood.Maybe eighth or ninth grade. He’s taller than a lot of the boys our age.

“You’re not even gonna defend yourself? I guess you really do like them!” They both burst into hysterical laughter. Their voices grate on my nerves, I’ve never liked them, they’re always so mean to everyone.

---