New Story!
Forever sixteen
By Krystal A. Walsh
I
grimaced at myself in the mirror, running my toothbrush across my front teeth
one last time to make sure they were completely clean before my dentist
appointment. Then with a sigh, I put my toothbrush away, and walked out of my
bathroom, into my bedroom, which was my safe haven. The large attic room, with
large windows looking out over the park, and cozy rugs covering the wooden
floor. I twirled around in front of the full length mirror to make sure my
dress and leggings were still neat and unwrinkled.
Forest green
dress and brown leggings, one of my many favorite outfits. It made me feel like
a tree nymph out of a book. My friends always laughed when I said things like
that, I am so booksish! But I really can’t help it, I inherited it from my
parents. They’re the ones who moved here to Avondale Colorado before I was born
because it reminded them of Anne of Green Gables and Lord of the Rings. I
smiled, I love my parents and all their bookish craziness.
Behind me my
window banged open, letting in a gust of cold March wind. I shivered. Maybe I should wear a scarf. I tried on my favorite
red one. No, ew…I look like a Christmas
tree. I made a face and grabbed my white one instead, this looked a lot
better.
“Tessa!” My mom’s
voice called me from downstairs, “Are you ready? We need to leave!”
“Coming Mom!”
I yelled, taking one last look at myself in the mirror. Good thing I don’t wear
makeup very much, I thought to myself. I don’t know how girls have time to put
makeup on every single day! They must wake up early. I hate getting up early,
I’m more of a night owl.
“Tessa!” my
Mom called again.
I turned to
grab my schoolbooks, and my purse then hurried to my door, tripping over one of
my many piles of books in the process.
I carefully checked them over, making sure none of them were hurt then
dashed down the spiral staircase from my room.
Mom was
waiting for me by the door, keys in hand.
“All
ready?” she asked.
“Yup” I made
a face, I hated going to the dentists.
Mom just
laughed and we headed out to the car in the cool March breeze.
~
Once at the
Dentist’s office I leaned back in the chair staring at the stupid posters on
the ceiling, while the dentist talked to my mom. Dumb cartoons, ugly fish,
talking teeth with huge sparkly smiles…..typical dentist office. I sighed. Why
couldn’t they put something more useful, like random Lord Of The Rings Trivia,
or a list of World Records, or– suddenly I overheard what the dentist was
saying to my mom
“She’ll need
to get her wisdom teeth out very soon, before they become infected”
My mom was
nodding, “Okay, yes we will schedule an appointment for after her birthday.
Maybe in 3 weeks or so?”
I groaned as
they continued talking. I’d always dreaded getting my teeth pulled ever since I
was 7 when I’d had a baby tooth pulled, and had technical difficulties which
caused the pain medication to wear off before they were done pulling my tooth.
That had been absolutely the worse experience of my life.
At least my
mom was nice enough to schedule it for after my birthday, but still…. I
shivered. No don’t think about it, I
told myself.
Soon my mom
finished talking to the receptionist, and we walked out to the car.
“I scheduled
an appointment with the oral surgeon for April 3rd, for you to get
your wisdom teeth out.” Mom said.
“Mom do I
have to get my teeth pulled?” I pleaded, giving her puppy eyes.
“I’m sorry
honey, but we don’t want them to cause worse problems. It won’t be like last
time, they put you out for this.”
I let out a
sigh. I had 3 weeks to find a way out of this.
~
On her way back home,
mom dropped me off at my boyfriend Patrick’s house. We studied together twice a
week; him helping me with Math and Science, and me helping him in English and
History. I often thought myself that it was funny how we could get along so
well, and yet have completely different interests.
I ran up the
brick pathway to the front steps of the big two-story house, but as I reached
out to knock on the bright red door, it flew open, and Patrick stood there,
laughing as I stood there with my hand awkwardly held in the air in front of
me.
“Knocking on
imaginary doors again my dear delusional bookworm?” he teased.
“Shut up
Ricky!” I playfully slapped him, and he gave me that mischievous to-die-for
dimpled grin that always made me melt.
We both waved
to my mom, who was shaking her head jokingly in disapproval at us as she drove
off, then I kicked off my shoes as Ricky closed the door.
“Race you!”
The two of us
raced down the hallway, then slid across the wooden floors in our socks, almost
slamming into Rick’s older sister who screamed and nearly dropped her cell
phone.
We both
laughed and ran into the school room as she glared after us murderously.
Patrick Murray, or Ricky as I always called him, was the second oldest of 7
children. Besides his older sister Aryn, he had 2 little brothers, Darcie and
Sullivan, and 3 younger sisters. Evelyn and Brianna, who were twins, and the
cute 3 year old Deirdre. With all these siblings, Ricky’s house was never dull,
and I loved it! Though the more quiet Ricky could never quite understand how I
actually enjoyed the chaos.
Upstairs in
the schoolroom, Darcie and Sullivan were laying on the floor, absorbed in the 6
foot-high model of a Warren-Truss Bridge they were constructing out of wooden
skewers and hot glue as a science project. All the Murray boys were very much
into building things. Ricky and I carefully made our way across the floor,
trying to avoid stepping on any sharp little wooden pieces, and then flopped
down on the big squishy couch to study.
“Math first
today girly?” Patrick asked.
I let out a
sigh, “Fine…math first.” I dropped my precious Chesterton and creative writing
books onto the floor next to the couch, and pulled my ghastly Geometry books
out of my bag.
Stealing
Ricky’s fancy mechanical pencil out of his hand, I began working on the math
lesson, handing him my own pink pencil to use instead, and laughing at his
exaggerated look of horror.
I finished
three geometry problems before I got confused.
“Ricky…Help
please?”
“Yup…one
second…lemme finish this..” Ricky answered without looking up from where he sat
leaning over his book.
In the bright
sunshine coming through the window, his dark auburn hair looked bright
red. Both of Ricky’s parents were
from Ireland, having come over to the United States for college, where they
met, and the entire Murray family was fully and completely Irish, very
friendly, and clannish. They all had brilliant green or blue eyes and everyone
had dark auburn or red hair except for Darcie, who’s hair was undeniably black.
The Murray’s also all had, to my great enjoyment, unmistakable Irish accents.
Even though I had known the Murray’s since I was a little child, I never got
tired of hearing their accent, and I would often tease Ricky by imitating his
accent until he begged me to stop.
“Ok I can help you now,” Ricky said
suddenly, breaking into my train of thought, and dragging me back to the
depressing reality of geometry problems.
~
Three hours later, we were finally done
with school, and we headed down to the kitchen for lunch.
“Ahh, there
you are!” Mrs. Murray smiled cheerfully, “Can you give me a hand with lunch?”
Catching
sight of the cheese, olives, red sauce and pizza dough already laid out on the
counter I readily agreed as did Patrick, and we started rolling out mini pizzas
for each family member. Laughing and talking the whole time, not to mention
sampling the olives, cheese, pineapple and ham that sat so temptingly on the
counter.
I knew
Patrick and his siblings so well, I didn’t even have to ask what each person
wanted on their pizza, and I quickly made mine, Evelyn’s and Brianna’s, being
interrupted every few minutes by Deirdre’s curious little 3 year old hands
sneaking into the food.
“Come on
Deirdre, stop eating all the pineapple or there won’t be any left on your
pizza!” I said, pulling the cute little culprit away from the counter yet
again.
“My tongue
ish fwuffy” Deirdre answered me with the wide-eyed seriousness of a three year
old, as she showed me her tiny pink tongue.
Patrick,
overhearing this, laughed. “That’s what happens when you eat too much
pineapple, Squishy.”
At this,
Squishy, as the Murray boys called their littlest sister, nervously clutched
her tongue as if it would fall off, and asked in a muffled voice, “Wiw it fall
off?”
“It might if
you eat any more pineapple before the pizzas are done.” Patrick answered,
equally serious.
And in the
sheer terror of losing her tongue, “Squishy” fled from the room, leaving the
rest of us giggling uncontrollably.
When Mrs.
Murray turned to put the pizzas in the oven, Patrick began throwing the extra
olives in the air and catching them in his mouth, until Aryn walked in and
stopped in shocked horror.
“Mom! Patrick
is playing with his food again!”
Mrs. Murray
turned around just to see Patrick catch the last of the olives in his mouth,
and he bowed gracefully, smiling mischievously.
His mom
merely shook her head with exasperation, then turned back the oven quickly to
hide her smile. Patrick winked at me, setting me off in convulsive giggles, as
Aryn rolled her eyes in true older sister fashion and stormed out of the room.
I had almost
forgotten about the less-than-pleasant dentist appointment that morning, until
I bit into a large piece of pineapple, and felt my sore gums stinging with the
acidic juice.
“Ooww!” I
made a face, “I really don’t like my teeth right now.”
“Why’s that?”
Patrick asked, as he dumped dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“Had a
dentist appointment this morning,” I paused to take another bite of pineapple,
“And…he said I need to get my wisdom teeth pulled.”
“Ooooh..”
Patrick knew all about what happened when I was younger, and he grimaced in
sympathy. “Aww that sucks, but hey I got my wisdom teeth pulled two months ago
and it wasn’t that bad…”
I glared at
him, “You could hardly talk for a week! It was awful!”
Patrick
shrugged, smiling slightly as he gave me a wet soapy hug. “That’s why we write
notes in code. You’ll be fine!”
I sighed.
“C’mon…no
being sad…I forbid it!” Patrick threatened me with the sponge and I shrieked
and grabbed the dish towel, smacking him, til we got in a full out dishtowel
fight, laughing our heads off.
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