Short Story

As promised, I'm posting a story I wrote as a freshman in high school. Don't judge too harshly. I was trying to remember if there was any sort of guidelines for this story, but I'm not sure. I think that we were asked to include our favorite color in some way.

My First New England Fall

It was late October when I moved again for the seventh time in two years. My father worked for the military, and he was assigned to Cape Cod. I had never been in the North before; my father's previous assignments had been in the South, mainly on the West coast. My Family made the long drive from Florida to the quaint and sleepy town of Osterville. I was used to the city lifestyle, and I felt I wouldn't be able to fit in once again. My father pulled into a bed of broken shells that was our driveway. The house I looked at was a large Colonial, and it was probably as old, if not older, than all the surrounding trees. My parents told me it was the most beautiful shade of red they had ever seen. Red had always been my favorite color, despite the fact that I was color-blind. My handicap was always a barrier between the other kids and me. When I stepped out of the car, the frost immediately began taking frequent bites at my pale, freckled skin. I settled into my room and skipped dinner. I tried to get some rest, but I was so nervous about my first day at a new school. I guess I should've gotten used to it, this being my seventh time, but I was more nervous than ever.

I woke up and hunted the noise until I found its source and hit the button. I went through my usual morning routine, except for breakfast. I was used to the ordinary cold cereal or a pop tart, so I was overwhelmed by the delicious aromas escaping from the granite counter-topped kitchen, which flooded my senses. It made my stomach growl and my knees weaken. My mother had prepared a gourmet feast comprising of pancakes, bacon, waffles, eggs, ham, muffins, and toast. I hadn't had toast since I was six years old. My mother was always working; she was a very successful lawyer and had left her job so we could move to Cape Cod with my father. She was now a stay-at-home mom, something she'd never been before. She was able to leave all her work numerous times for my father. It made me feel like a coward, not being able to adjust like she did and fit in.

Although the food made me drool, I was too anxious about the day ahead of me to eat. I kissed my mother goodbye, grabbed my lunch and backpack, and was off to school at Cape Cod Academy. It was only a short walk to the school. I had been told it was a very small school, but when I saw how big the building and grounds were, my pulse quickened. I was afraid this school would be like the rest. One thing that comforted me was that the school was the same color that I saw it to be. 

It was my first year of high school, and I had no friends, no idea where my classes were, or if I would join the soccer team after school. I was meandering the hallways when a girl, who was also a freshman, asked if she could help me with anything. I turned around and saw a pretty girl talking to me. I immediately dismissed the fact that she could've been talking to me and ignored her call. She tapped me on the shoulders, and I turned again and was convinced she was talking to me this time, but still feigned ignorance.

 

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?"

"Yes!" she said as she flashed a brilliant smile, "You must be new. Can I help you with your schedule?"

"Sure." I replied with less enthusiasm than I was hoping for. 

Either by divine fate or dumb luck, we had a lot of the same classes, so I followed her to first period and saw her in several other classes throughout the day. She was an angel; she spent all the free time she had with me in order to show me around the school. At the end of the day, she walked me down to the gymnasium and showed me where to get ready for soccer. After I changed, she even walked me onto the field and introduced me to a few of her friends, who were already members of the soccer team. I saw her again after practice on my way home. I just walked behind her and didn't say a thing. She turned around when she heard my clumsy footsteps. I found out she was my neighbor. 

"Want to walk to school with me tomorrow?" She asked.

"Sure." I said once again.

 

When I got home my mother greeted me with a glass of milk and some fresh baked cookies. She asked me how my day was, and I told her it was fine as usual, except this time it really was fine. Then my inquisitive mother asked me a question that made me rosy in the cheeks.

"Who's the red-head, Son?" she said with a sly smile. 

 

I told her about the friendly girl that helped me to my classes and who was also our neighbor. I did the little homework I had, showered, and had a great dinner that my mother prepared. I slept great that night and woke up refreshed. I was about to sit down to breakfast when I saw her - my new friend and neighbor - at the door. My mother invited her in for breakfast, and we ate together amidst awkward silences, broken only by my mother's playful questions. We left for school early, and that's when she showed me a new route through the woods. We sat down on a rock, and she kissed me on the lips. I was so startled, but even more startled when I saw a speck of red out of the corner of my eye. I saw the red leaves on the branches of a maple tree. It was so clear to me that I thought I could see each individual vein, stretching from the stem to the tip of the leaf. It was the first time I had ever seen color. 

 

"I can see it, I can really see it!" I screamed.

"What can you see?" the red-head inquired.

"I can see fall," I replied, "and your hair. It's beautiful."

THE END