Liam and I, Elaina H [best feel good books txt] 📗

and I followed all the instructions about what to do with our homework and so on and so forth.

I sat with Liam at lunch, and we didn’t talk much.

Fourth grade year as a whole wasn’t all that exciting really. Each day ended up being the same thing over and over again.

First I’d get dropped off by Mom, I’d sit with Liam at our bench, we’d head of to our classroom, and we wouldn’t see each other until lunch. Then we would go back to class, learn more things than I thought I ever needed to know, and head home for the day.

The only time our routine ever changed is when Liam didn’t show up to school during the last full week.

I sat at our bench by myself, I missed Liam, but only because I hated sitting by myself. People called me weird.

During lunch, I went to Mrs. Smith’s room despite all the scary stories about her and asked her where Liam was.

Mrs. Smith looked down her nose at me, “Well, how do you expect me to know? He called in sick, I imagine he’s sick.”

I never talked to Mrs. Smith again after that. I also told everyone she boiled cats and ate them for breakfast, but I don’t like to tell people I did that.

The next day, things were back to normal, and when Liam sat down next to me I decided to ask him where he’d been.

As usual Liam raised his shoulders, “I don’t know. Mom said I had to talk to some doctors about some stuff.”

I had turned ten a couple months ago, but it didn’t mean I was any smarter than I was at nine. “Stuff like why your hair falls out?”

Liam cocked his head to the side, and watched me carefully. “It don’t fall out no more, and I hope it stays that way. But I guess you can say something like that.”

His answer didn’t completely satisfy my question, but it was good enough and I left him alone after than.

Things continued as usual the rest of the year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

The summer between fourth and fifth grade year was a hard one for my family, specifically Mom.

At the beginning of the summer, my mother received a call at ten o’clock at night informing her that her mother, Grandma Doon, had just past on from a heart attack. Mom didn’t cry.

During that week, I learned more about death. I learned death was final, death was cruel, death meant I could never talk to, see, or hear that person again. Death meant gone.

It was hard on Mom. Grandma Doon was her only living family left, Mom’s father had died when I was three and her only aunt died when my mother was barely sixteen.

At ten I realized Mom was brave, and I realized I wanted to be just like her.

Throughout the week, funeral arrangements were planned for the Grandma I never talked to. When it came time to go to the funeral, Mom broke down.

I heard her in the bedroom with Dad crying.

Dad was whispering soothing words to her, yet Mom still cried. I remember wondering why she cried now. Why didn’t she cry when she received the call, why not cry when the funeral home called and asked what kind of wood she wanted the casket to be made from, why not cry when I asked her if Grandma Doon was really gone forever? Why not?

I never asked my mother any of those questions; it seemed unfair to bombard her with more stress than she needed.

At the funeral, Mom left us for the podium at the front of the room. Everyone was quiet as they awaited Mom’s speech.

When Mom’s voice filled the area, it was crackly and tired. Her first words were simple, “Death sucks.”

A few chuckled at Mom’s spunk, but I’m sure some were offended. She continued, “When I decided to write this eulogy for my mother, I went to the internet to look up some inspirational quote about death, but I realized, it’s just a bunch of crap,” Mom didn’t say crap, and a few elderly women in the back gasped. “What happened to my mother is going to happen to every one of us in this room at one point or another, some sooner than others,” Mom glanced at the elderly lady in the back, and she cracked a smile.

“I don’t mean to make light of my mother’s death, but I always imagined she’d want me to make her funeral a celebration of her life, not a sad, sappy tragedy. And, I agree with my mother’s reasoning. When I’m in this place myself, I hope my children celebrate my life, and I hope they move past my death even though I know it would be hard.” My mom took a shaky breath, and swallowed hard. “So, I’m here to celebrate my mother’s life, and I’m here to make sure she is never forgotten.”

Before Mom left the podium, she kissed her fingertips and rested them on top of the casket. Her departing words could only be heard from the front row, but they made me notice my mother’s strength, “I love you Mom, and I will never forget you.”

Mom walked off stage, left the room, and we didn’t see her until two hours later.

I don’t know where my mother went or what she did, but whatever it was it helped her move past because when she came back, she did exactly what she promised.

She celebrated her mother’s life.

 

Shortly after Grandma Doon’s death, a Tornado whipped through our hometown in Texas.

The storm sirens blared through town, and the lights went out the minute the wind picked up to a good speed.

I’d lived in Texas since I was born, and I had never had to protect myself from a tornado.

The weather stations had been predicting a F3 tornado bringing heavy rain, strong wind, hail, and flying objects.

The four of us quickly went to the hall bathroom, and my parents set my brother and I into the bathtub with a heavy blanket over us.

Mom and Dad sat next to the tub on the floor, and kept us calm as we heard the steady stream of wind beat on the side of our house.

Dad was telling us about the dog he saw the other day when something scarier than the wind, rain, and hail came.

It was the roar.

A deafening roar tore through town, and I threw my hands over my ears, my brother followed suit.

I felt our home shake, and my parents covered Jack and me with their bodies, shielding us from whatever dangers were outside.

Almost as quickly as the roar came, it was gone.

Dad stood up, and told us to stay put while he went and checked outside.

About five minutes later, he returned and informed us the tornado had done significant damage to the front of the house, but the tornado directly hit the houses a block over.

When Dad said we were allowed to go outside, Jack and I raced toward the front door to see the damage the massive whirlwind of debris had left behind.

There are no words to describe the aftermath of a tornado.

I could have said awful, horrendous, scary, unsettling, but every single one of those words paled in comparison to what the scene actually looked like.

Every house on the block was damaged, shingles, siding, brick, windows, and doors all torn directly from the house and tossed out into the streets.

The front of our home was almost bare, no shingles and no brick. A few of the upstairs windows were busted in, but the door was still attached.

Our front and back yards were a mess! Sticks and pipes were shoved into the mud, and trees were leaning sideways. Leaves and other plants were strewn across the yard, and Mrs. Crawford’s fat, old cat was lying on the sidewalk, feet straight in the air, dead as a doornail.

Jack cried for a while before he calmed himself down, and started investigating the scene more.

Fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances lined the streets helping anyone who asked for it. Our neighbors asked everyone to help search for their dog, which had been missing since he ran when the tornado first hit.

Unfortunately, nobody found the dog and we all assumed he’d been taken by the twister.

Next, the Dawson family begged to borrow my parent’s phones. It was no big deal. The Dawson’s needed to call family and find a place to stay, since there house was one of the few completely flattened.

The rest of that day and all of the next were spent picking up our front yard, backyard, inside of the house. Dad worked on putting the shingles back up, it took him a long time, and the shingles still had to be fixed a year later when we had the money.

I don’t really remember much detail after that. It was a lot of picking up and complaining on my part. After two weeks of clean up, our house was finally livable.

We moved out of the motel we’d been staying in. But after that summer, none of us were ever really the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

I distinctly remember starting junior high.

Fifth grade was easy, and I remember how old I had felt with all those young, little kids around me. But now, sixth grade meant I was the youngest in the school.

On the first day, the teachers gave us a tour of the school. There wasn’t much else we did that day but talk about the rules, the consequences, and the expectations.

It wasn’t until the end of the day during reading time when I felt someone staring at me. The stare was hot on my back, and I recall the uncomfortable itch you get when you have an uneasy feeling.

After minutes passed, I slowly turned around at met the eyes of the staring boy.

It wasn’t immediately that I recognized him, but I knew he knew me from somewhere because his entire face lit up with a brilliant smile.

When I saw the hearty smile, the floppy blonde hair, and those kind eyes I felt my stomach clench and I started wiggling in my seat.

It was Liam.

I hadn’t seen him since the end of fourth grade. I never gave it much thought as to where he went, but now that he was there, I began to wonder where he could have possibly gone.

I waved at him from across the classroom and he waved back. The girl sitting next to him with her hair in red braids frowned at me and crinkled her nose. She flicked one of her braids over her shoulder and began talking to Liam.

Once his attention was redirected toward someone else, I simply turned away.

Yet, there was burning jealousy in my stomach and I couldn’t explain it. The feeling never came back until I was older, but that was the first time I ever experienced true envy.

 

The next day, Liam walked up to me. “Hiya, Isabel! I haven’t seen you in a real long time, huh?”

I stuck my hands on my hips with an independent attitude, “Yea? Where’d you go? Thought we were friends or something and you didn’t even bother to tell me you were leaving.”

Liam rolled his eyes, “I didn’t plan going to the hospital. I would of told you if I knew where you were livin’.”

I dropped my head and shuffled my feet in the playground rock, “Oh. Well, how was I supposed to know that,” I said defensively.

“You weren’t, but now you do.” Liam smiled, and cocked his head to the side. “You wanna swing or something?”

“I guess we can swing, but I don’t want nobody thinking we’re boyfriend and girlfriend or nothing!” I said matter-of-factly.

Liam laughed loudly, and my cheeks flushed red, “Me either, it’s a good thing we’re just friends.”

I followed Liam over to the swings and we talked the entire recess about everything and nothing.

A minute before the bell rung, Liam looked at me seriously, “Isabel?”

“Yea?” I said slowing my swing down so I could get ready to go inside.

“Do you ever wish