“The Summer After Graduation”
I graduated from high school on June 23 of this year. My entire life would begin to start after that summer vacation when I started college, but that was the whole summer away. And as of right now, the local county fair and everyone in my class were there celebrating the last summer vacation we had together. From noon until midnight, we partied, drank, and overall had a great time together. The boys played cheesy caravel games to win prizes for their sweethearts. The girls would ask them to ride with them on the two-seat-er Ferris wheel or crowd together to take selfies.
My childhood friend, Max Sherman, his boyfriend Luther Davis, and I spent most of the day together. Occasionally we tagged along in groups when they called us over. The day was fantastic. We all made jokes about our childhood, ate fried dough and ice cream all day. And when night finally came, we all got together at the hill where we usually sat to watch fireworks for one last time. The deep thuds shook the ground with each explosion in the night sky. Our home town might be small, but hell. It was home.
The last firework of the grand finale fired off and closed the night with a bang. My graduating class hugged each other before splitting ways. My friend approached me holding Luther's hand. Max is a skinny guy with short curly red hair with bright blue eyes, with freckles covering almost every inch of his body. I would often tease him about being a stereotypical redhead. While Luther, on the other hand, was a jock with blond hair and stern hazel eyes that complimented a strong jawline. He was the quarterback on the football team before we graduated.
"So, that's it. The last time our class will be together." Max stared with an almost relieved tone, but I knew he would miss everyone. I chuckled to agree, amusing him. Happy that I did, he hugged me goodnight.
"Don't forget our plans on Sunday, (y/n)." He added.
"Like I would." I joked.
"Oh, that's not even funny. Must I remind you of September, 5th 2009?" He pulled away from our embrace, placing his hands on my shoulders, casting a burning gaze upon me.
"Oh my God. You can't seriously hold that over me forever, Maxwell." I exclaimed, trying to defend myself.
"Watch me." He chuckles before leaving with Luther.
I laughed to myself after they left. I was the only one remaining on the hill now that everyone left for home. They had something to go home, also. I, on the other hand, lived alone at the current point in time. My mother and step-father were away on vacation across the world for the summer. They insisted that I stayed here to prepare for college. By this point, I used to being cast aside by them. I learned early on how to defend myself.
My father had died when I was 11 in a car accident. A drunk driver collided with my father's vehicle head-on, killing them both. But, besides that, I grew up hardy like the land I walk on.
Looking over the hill down at the fair lights below, I wondered to myself about college. Was being an art major really what I wanted to do? Or could I amount to so much more? Art was my entire life, but so wasn't mechanics. Ever since I was a baby, I scribbled in coloring sheets and would "help" my father tighten bolts on his hobby cars. Artists barely get by as is, but my mother insisted that I go into a more woman-oriented field. I furrowed my brow and let out a short sigh before continuing to watch the fair, well past midnight. When things began to shut down until morning, I stood from the dewy grass. The wind started to pick up, chilling the misty air.
Soon after I headed back toward my car, droplets of rain began to drop onto my skin, sending chills down my spine. Quickening my pace allowed me to wreak shelter from inside my step-father's red 1959 Cadillac 6200 before it began to downpour. I was one of the last people at the fairgrounds, making it easy to leave the previously crowded gravel parking lot. Turning onto the main road, it was almost a straight shot home.
The roads stretched for miles in one direction, with farming plains stretching farther towards the inland. The coastal waters rushed to shore on the other side of the road. As relaxing as all of this might be, it would be a matter of time before I would leave it all to peruse my life.
The headlights lined up with the garage door before they slowly opened, revealing a dry interior. As I pulled in, a yawn escaped my lips, marking my physical fatigue. Lazily, I gathered my things and left the confinement of the car before entered the house. I closed both garage doors behind me.
The house was a two-story beach home, refurbished to withstand harsh coastal weather. While the front of the house faced farming land, the back overlooked the sands of the ocean. Internally the house had an inviting rustic nautical vibe. Things that my dad collected before I was born hung proudly on the walls. Pictures of the family were hanging on the walls, littering the staircase and living room. My room encaptured a stereotypical teen bedroom. Posters of bands and photos of friends were hung or tacked on the wall, lights stretched across the room, and above all, articles of clothing laid scattered across the floor.
I plugged my phone into the charger before stripping down into my undergarments. Because of the chilled night, I decided to wear a baggy opened-necked sweatshirt along with shorts before getting to sleep that night. At first, I laid awake staring at the ceiling. Imagining my future with the people I'll be sharing my college experience. My eyes drifted shut.
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