Page 45 of Nineteen Letters
My reply came without hesitation. “Never! Hanging out with Jem is my favourite thing to do.”
“Huh,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at you before focusing her attention back on me. Smiling, she innocently twisted her long blonde hair around her finger, which was ironic; she was anything but sweet and didn’t fool me for a second. “You should come to Daddy’s restaurant sometime, Brax. We could make you our special guest.”
Her eyes narrowed again when they moved back to you, and I was struggling to keep my cool. “You want to come with me, Jem?” I asked.
“I meant just you … alone,” Sonia snapped. To say I wasn’t expecting you to react like you did would be an understatement. You lunged forward, faking a trip, which was an impossibility since you were standing still a second prior.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Sonia,” you said as the pink lemonade from your glass soaked into her white silk party dress.
“Ahh! You did that on purpose,” she screamed as she turned and ran into the house crying.
I tried not to laugh, honestly, I did, but the moment my gaze moved to you and I saw you fighting back a smile, I lost it. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. It was about time someone put Sonia Mitchell in her place.
She had her daddy come to pick her up ten minutes later. The party only seemed to improve once she left. Sonia never really spoke to you after that day, but that didn’t seem to bother you in the slightest.
The following morning you knocked on my door early. I was still in my pyjamas, eating Coco Pops while I watched cartoons on the television.
“Can you help me put my kite together?” you asked excitedly. “Dad offered to help, but I want you to do it.”
You were given jewellery, clothes, perfume and an array of girly things for your birthday that year, but you told me the kite was your favourite present. You have no idea how happy that made me.
We put it together in no time, and you sat on my sofa impatiently waiting while I ran upstairs to change.
It was a dreary, overcast winter day, but there was enough breeze to launch that baby into the air. I watched as you ran laps around your backyard, the kite flying behind you. Seeing you happy always made my heart smile. To this day, it still has the same effect on me.
Things were going perfectly until a big gust of wind came and blew the kite towards the large tree in your backyard, snagging it on one of the branches. I tried over and over to untangle it for you, but it was no use.
Your bottom lip quivered as you fought back the tears, and my heart suddenly hurt. The only way that kite was coming down was if someone went up there to get it.
It was so high up, and I prayed that someone would not be me.
“I’ll see if your dad can help us,” I said and ran inside. You can imagine how I felt when your mum told me he had gone for a walk to get the Sunday paper.
My feet dragged as I headed back outside to break the bad news to you.
“I’m going to climb up and get it,” you said.
“No, Jem. It’s too high.” I grabbed hold of your elbow to stop you.
“Let me go,” you snapped, snatching your arm out of my grip. “I’m going up there, and you can’t stop me.” Youwere so stubborn, and as much as the thought of climbing that tree terrified me, I didn’t have a choice. There was no way I was letting you do it.
“Fine. I’ll go up and get it.”
I felt sick as I climbed onto the first branch. Don’t look down … don’t look down, I chanted in my head as I made my way up.
“Be careful, Brax,” you called out from below.
I swear my whole body was trembling when I lifted my leg and pulled my body up onto the last branch. I sat there for the longest time, paralysed by fear. Don’t look down … don’t look down, I continued to say over and over in my head.
“Are you okay?” you called out.
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t, but there was no way I was admitting that to you.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my Swiss Army knife. It had belonged to my grandfather. He gave it to my dad on his thirteenth birthday, and he’d carried on the tradition by giving it to me. I took it everywhere, except to school.
“What are you doing?”
I was stalling, that’s what I was doing, I couldn’t find the courage to move. “I’m carving my name into the tree.”
