#buchtton

What a simple question

That rubs the back of my throat

As my feet thump against green tiles

And light glimmers through a doorway

Where there resides empty desks 

Except for one, in the back

The largest one

A back bent over papers

Illuminated by the sun

To my students, I can count

All the digits in their names

Yet for her, I cannot speak eighteen

The fair blinded Youngvia. Street vendors crowded the black pavement. Advertisers scurried around the crowds waving little pamphlets and business cards. It was all so exhilarating for the quiet town of Buchtton. 

Youngvia clutched the straps of her cello case and continued on her way to the town hall. A few people glanced at her as she walked, but most were content to focus on the excitement of Community Day. 

“Hey, Youngvia!”

Youngvia twirled around to see her friend Aleah racing toward her with her own cello case thumping against her back. Aleah’s dark wavy hair bounced around her shoulders and her brown eyes were bright. 

“Oh, my goodness,” Aleah said as she stopped beside Youngvia. “I thought I would never find you. Buchtton is such a small town, but it really gets crazy on Community Day.”

Youngvia nodded in agreement. “That’s for sure. Are you ready to play?”

Aleah laughed. “You bet I’m ready. My mothers and sisters are all sick of me playing the songs at home. I’m sure your family feels the same.”

Youngvia definitely had been practicing a lot, but her little sister and parents were used to it now, so they rarely ever complained. 

She and Aleah weaved through the crowds to reach the brick building at the center of the streets. Around her, Youngvia could smell the sweetness of cotton candy and hear the laughter of kids and parents. As pop music boomed from speakers above her, she could feel the ground vibrating below her feet. The scene both energized her, but also made her nervous. What if she couldn’t do this Community Day service? It was the first time she had performed at an event like this. Most of the time, she played in school talent shows and musicals where the only people she was being judged against were other high school students. Here, the stakes seemed so much higher.

The two girls finally made it to the steps of Town Hall. At the top of the steps, a black platform had been wheeled out in front of the great brown doors and tech people were racing back and forth across the stage to check the mics and connect the mess of wires that were required for the performance. 

“I’m so glad that I don’t have to handle the tech stuff,” Aleah said beside Youngvia. She had to shout to be heard over the speakers. “I know I would mess everything up.”

Mr. Agu, the high school music and drama teacher ran over to Aleah and Youngvia from the top of the stairs.

“There you two girls are.” He grinned at them. “I know how hard you have been working in class and it must be nice for it to finally be paying off.”

Aleah beamed at the teacher. “Thank you for always supporting us.”

“Well, go be awesome.” He nodded toward the stage.

Youngvia’s heart pounding, she started up the steps. The cello on her back weighed down on her and with each step her feet made, it felt like she was walking through mud. The noises of the background faded to the edges of her senses and all that could swarm in was her anxiety. 

Stop it, Youngvia, she scolded herself. She had never been this nervous about performing before. She had always loved sharing her gifts with the world and being able to bring others joy through her music. Why was today different? 

What if everybody hates me after this? What if they think I’m terrible and stuck-up and they abandon me? There it was. That word. The word that Youngvia tried to push out of her mind all of the time. That word that had caused her so much pain since she was an infant. 

She glanced at Aleah. She couldn’t tell what her friend was feeling, but she wondered if Aleah also had the fear of failure leading to abandonment like her. They both were adopted, meaning that they had to have been abandoned first. It was part of their stories. Yet, Aleah had only been abandoned once and she had been adopted into a loving family with four mothers and five sisters. Youngvia had been adopted as a baby and then abandoned again when she was ten, only to be taken in by her first adoptive mother’s cousin. What was Youngvia thinking hiding behind her music? The pain of the past would never leave her.

She crossed the last step and trudged toward the black stage. She smiled back weakly at the tech people who waved and grinned at her and her eyes drifted over the cobbled ground. 

Aleah went up the stage steps first and strode toward one of two wooden chairs on the platform. Youngvia lumbered after her friend. Her mind erratic, she unzipped her instrument and went through the movements of tuning. Her arms shivered and sweat dripped down her forehead. Even though it was a warm day, she still felt this weird sensation of feeling both warm and cold. Her stomach churned inside of her and her legs wobbled as she positioned the cello between them.

The pop music quieted and Aleah flashed Youngvia a smile. We got this, she mouthed.

All Youngvia could do was nod back. And then they played. Once she felt the cello vibrate between her legs. Once she heard the silence settle down among the people below. Once their footsteps quieted, their chattering paused. Once she knew she was safe up here, Youngvia could breathe the music.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Aleah said to her fifteen minutes later after they had finished playing and were heading back into the crowds. The pop music had returned to the speakers and chattering fluttered around them.

Youngvia grinned. “Yeah, it was nice.”

“Do you want to talk about what had made you so nervous? Usually, you aren’t this uptight about playing in front of all these people.”

Youngvia watched as a family of four passed by, their laughter a light breeze blowing by her ear. “I mean, this is our first time playing at Community Day. We usually play in more formal places where the people there are our families or people who know music. It’s weird playing here where us playing isn’t the main act.”

“We’re just part of the crowd.” Aleah nodded. 

“Right, but it was nice…being part of the crowd. I was so worried everyone would just leave if they didn’t like what they were hearing, but no one did. They just listened. It made me feel like I belonged and that I didn’t have to worry about being abandoned.”

Aleah’s brown hand grasped onto Youngvia’s pale one. “You never have to worry about being abandoned again, if that’s what you’re worried about. Buchtton is a small community, but we look out for one another, okay?”

There is something I miss

About sitting on that swing

My feet in the air

As I tremble just a bit,

Which is quite a feat,

Not because of fear

But because I am flying

And I can’t find fear

With the world beneath my feet

Suddenly breaking into bits

The wind in my ear

Just Wendy on a swing

“We should really try that someday,” Kaya said.

“Wait, what?” I glanced over at my friend. The sun baked her shoulder-length black hair, causing it to glow a slight crimson.

“That.” My friend pointed in the distance where a group of teens our age was boogie-boarding in the waves. Their laughter tingled in my ears, causing me to smile.

“Yeah, that looks pretty fun. I’m pretty sure Ayana has some boogie boards we could borrow and use.” I thought of my other best friend who lived right across from this very beach. She had been busy lately with a badminton tournament, so I hadn’t seen her very much this Summer.

“We’re going to be graduating high school in just two years,” Kaya said. “We need to do it before then.”

I frowned and traced a line through the sand. Although I had slathered sunscreen all over my pale skin earlier today, my fingers were still tinged pink. Were we really that close to the finish line? It was hard to believe we were going to be juniors in a couple of weeks. Sophomore year, half of which was online thanks to COVID, had passed by so quickly and our freshman year had ended abruptly due to the pandemic. Did I really have only two more years to enjoy the company of all my classmates? Ayana’s smiles. Kaya’s determination. Lucia’s creativity. Isabelle’s confidence.

“You okay, Summer?” Kaya peered at me, her brown eyes brimming with concern.

I chuckled and shook the grainy sand off my fingers. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feels like things are going too fast.”

Kaya shifted closer to me, her body so close our shoulders almost touched. We had been best friends since elementary school. Would that still be the same even as we moved on?

A cloud blocking the sun floated off and the light blinded me, so I looked away from my friend. A breeze flitted with my blonde hair, bringing along with it the briny scent of the ocean. Even the weather seemed to be moving onward.

“I honestly can’t wait to get out of here,” Kaya said. “I mean, you know how things are with my sister. I love her, but sometimes it’s exhausting when she’s having another tantrum and none of us can help her. And my parents, they aren’t the warmest of people. They show their affection in different ways and I understand that, but…”

“You want something else,” I finished for her. I kept my gaze on my feet submerged in the sand.

“Definitely.” Kaya sighed. “Not sure if I’ll ever get it. I haven’t earned that much money to be living on my own.”

“Kaya,” I said. My heart thrummed in my chest. “We should move forward together.”

Kaya stared at me. Then her face broke into a grin. “Are you asking me out, Summer?”

I must have looked disappointed because Kaya placed her hand on my wrist. “I think that’s very sweet,” she murmured.

“So what do you say? Are we going to tackle the future together?”

Celio felt the grass sting his palm and breathed in the salty air of the sea grumbling in the distance. He cherished the thrumming of the waves, the shuffling of the wind, the dancing of his own heart. He couldn’t see it at all, but he could still enjoy the environment around him. That’s what many people didn’t understand. Sometimes, you don’t need eyes to enjoy something beautiful.

“Celio, I found a nice shell!” His little brother Horatio called a few feet to his left. Horatio’s voice was light as if it could drift with the breeze.

Celio pushed himself off from the sandy grass and, with the help of his cane, made his way toward the sound of his brother’s voice. The grains of sand shifted underneath the metal stick and embraced his sneakers. He loved the way his feet sunk into the soft substance as if he were being transported to another world.

When he reached Horatio, he knelt down and held his hand out for his brother to place the shell in his palm. The damp, curvy figure tickled his skin and he could feel the water dripping off his brother’s slimy hand.

“The water feels cold! I don’t get how you can stay so long in the waves, Horatio.”

Horatio laughed. “It was worth it to get this shell.”

Celio fingered the sea’s gift, stroking each curve and feeling its smooth underbelly. “It’s fascinating. You should bring it home to show Mom and Dad.”

“I think I will!” Celio smiled at the excitement in Horatio’s voice. He loved how enthusiastic his brother was about all the little things in life. Celio wanted to be that way, too. That’s why he visited natural environments and forced himself to focus on his senses. He liked being himself, he liked belonging.

Celio let his brother take back the shell and he buried his hand in the sand. The dry and wet particles mingled together and shivered against his fingers. He wondered if the tiny insects that burrowed in the sand were being disrupted by his movement. A flicker of guilt flashed through him. Humans could be so destructive sometimes.

His brother was now mumbling a Portuguese song their mother often sang, although a bit out of tune. Celio gently recovered his hand from the soil and swayed to his brother’s music, letting himself hum along.

“I want to go to Portugal someday,” Horatio said. “It would be cool to actually visit our grandparents in their own home instead of through phone calls once a year.”

“Yeah.” Celio brushed off sand that had floated onto his t-shirt. “That would be nice.” He wasn’t sure that would happen anytime soon. While his family wasn’t struggling at the moment financially, it wasn’t like they had that much money to just throw around. Celio wished he could go on vacations like his friend Pavel did with his family.

“Hey, Celio,” Horatio said. His voice was tentative in a way that made Celio want to pause his whole body just so he could focus on listening to Horatio. “Do you think we will ever be able to travel?”

Celio didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t want to lie. He plastered a smile onto his face. “You know, we can travel right now. Close your eyes.”

He heard the sounds of Horatio fidgeting on the sand. “They’re closed,” Horatio announced.

“Good,” Celio said. “Now, listening to what’s around you and keeping your eyes shut, what do you see?”

A moment passed. Celio focused on the wind whistling by him and the laughter of a family playing in the waves. Along the boardwalk behind him, he could hear the thumps of footsteps and the scratching of bicycle wheels along wood.

“I hear people having fun and walking around,” Horatio said slowly.

“What else?”

“The ocean, but Celio, this is nice and all, but it isn’t the same.”

Celio sighed and ran his fingers through the sand, letting the dry particles slide off his skin. He could heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice, the sadness of feeling stuck. Celio had been so focused on observing his environment, he forgot to pay attention to his brother. “You’re right. To be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to travel anytime soon.”

“It stinks.”

“It does.”

Horatio groaned. “Vacations are probably overrated anyway. Maybe we’re the lucky ones since we get to stay here and really appreciate this place.”

This fictional essay from the perspective of the character Malia Blu is written for a friend. The relationship between the characters Maya Hong and Malia Blu symbolizes the warmth that this friend described to me when expressing her own friendship with another person.

If you asked me to count the raindrops, I would. I would stand there in the street with water dripping down my cheeks and my eyes squinted at the sky. I wouldn’t care about the little droplets that would thud against my glasses and create tiny bubbles to peek through. I wouldn’t notice the lightning painting the world golden while a sea churns inside of me.

At least that’s what I thought.

You see, my friend, you are so much more than that. You are more than the laughs sparking through a sunny day as we sit in the park. You are more than the smiles I share, though nervously, on one end of a camera. You are more than a girl named Maya who is my friend. You are you and you allow me to be me.

An emptiness used to tug at my heart when I was alone. I’ve been abandoned before, so who can say it won’t happen again? I used to (and sometimes still do) collapse into myself, my mind whirling with thoughts. Is it okay to look like this? Am I a burden? Do I truly belong here? On and on...And you would listen. To everything. And I would listen to you.

“Did you hear that new song?”

“It’s going to rain tonight.”

“I need a break.”

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m here for you.”

“Me, too.”

As I sit here alone at my computer, typing out my thanks, I realize something. I’m alone, but I don’t feel lonely, isolated, or lost. I have everything I need right before me and beyond. Your kindness, patience, and determination will forever be with me and I hope mine will forever be with you.

INT. FIRST GRADE CLASSROOM- AFTERNOON

Two girls squat side-by-side on the carpet. One girl, MADDI VIANA-GOVEA, plays with a plastic horse with a broken leg. The other girl, COLLETTE ZONG, shifts around a collection of toy people.

A teacher stomps by to reprimand two students tugging on a small train.

A fly swoops by Maddi’s head. Maddi’s gaze tracks the creature as it flits towards Collette’s direction.

Collette reaches to grasp the insect. It floats away and out an open window. Maddi grins.

A beat. Collette smiles back.

The school bell rings. The two girls turn away from one another.

INT. MADDI’S MOM’S CAR- TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Maddi fiddles with her toy horse.

MADDI’S MOTHER

(in Argentinian Spanish)

Did the second day of school go better?

MADDI

(in Argentinian Spanish)

Yeah.

MADDI’S MOTHER

(in Argentinian Spanish)

Did you talk to anyone?

Maddi gives a slight smile.

MADDI

(in Argentinian Spanish)

No, but I think I might have made a friend.

MADDI’S MOTHER

(in Argentinian Spanish)

You have to talk to people, Maddi. The only people you ever talk to are Dad and me. If you want to keep this friend of yours that you’re making, you better start speaking to them with words.

INT. FIRST GRADE CLASSROOM- NEXT AFTERNOON

Maddi and Collette play side-by-side on the carpet. Collette clutches a small airplane. She makes it woosh around Maddi’s head.

Maddi’s eyes sparkle. She taps her hands together. She picks up a plastic green snake and slips it onto Collette’s vehicle. Her hand clasps Collette’s fingers.

Collette’s hand pauses. The airplane and snake hover in the air with the two girls grasping them.

Collette smiles at Maddi.

A beat.

Hi, everyone! I have a new short story that you can read below! As always, make sure to check out these social justice and mental health resources: https://sunsblmresources.weebly.com/.

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1154423532-short-stories-the-biology-of-a-story-2021

Website: https://darcywriting.weebly.com/short-stories/the-biology-of-a-story

Tumblr: https://sunlake1.tumblr.com/post/667869571334668288/the-biology-of-a-story

Fun fact: I actually had a hard time writing this story. I will say, the story seems to end on a happy note, but I encourage you to think more critically about everything that happened.