The Senior

By Alan Shope

The Senior, EARN YOUR LETTER is a heart pounding story about overcoming the impossible odds!

After having an unexpected heart transplant the summer before his senior year, city boy Adam Sawyer makes a promise. He commits to spending his FINAL year of school attending classes in the small, farm community of his heart donor: a community where outsiders are not always welcome. Keeping his recent surgery hidden, he attempts to balance new love, new friends, and a new life thanks to the precious gift. His newfound popularity keeps him seemingly in good health, but as graduation day arrives, the secret of Adams life is discovered. Will Adam be accepted as himself once all of his new friends know the truth of where Adam got his heart? Or will his heart choose to reject him first? Find out in this must read story. The Senior, a story about the trials and tribulations of high school where friendships, sports, and life lessons come together in the fast paced stream of life.

The Senior captures the emotions and the real life situations our young people have to deal with on a daily basis. It is about the part of our lives that we never forget and the years we wish we could all live at least one more time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450292160

Alan Shope

Alan Shope has worked in TV news and sports for the last twenty years as everything from News Photographer to Sports Director. “The Senior” is Mr. Shope’s third novel. His first two “A Different Heaven” 2005 and “My Attrition”2008 can be ordered at any major bookstore. As a reporter, Alan has won dozens of awards and was twice nominated for an Emmy. In his spare time, he has written hundreds of short stories, as well as six movie manuscripts and worked on a variety of other projects. He has also written and recorded twenty-three original music scores and currently owns a US patent and trademark.

Book preview

Contents

Part One

Shane’s Story

August

September

October

November

December

January

March

April

May

Fifteen Months Later

Part Two

Shane’’s Story

Twenty Year Reunion

The Author & the Story

Part One

Shane’s Story

The confluence is never more beautiful than at night. The two endless rivers were wide and endless, flowing with a massive power as they funneled into one vein, crashing into one another. The strong currents and waves orchestrated a melody for the ears as they collided down the dirt and grass-lined banks. The sky was dark but the moon was full and bright. It dominated the black night sky as if it were the sun on a cloudless day. It’s bright reflection on the water unveiled the white waves as they crashed and flowed together. This is the place where the water and the two rivers became one. The night sun was a rippled distorted figure in the water as the current pulled at the strong reflection in a fruitless manner trying to carry it down stream. Despite the effort, the distorted reflection in the water was unwilling to move.

The river level was slightly higher and steeped at the confluence. The huge black tree trunks and branches also lined the banks like wounded soldiers on a battlefield. The air was moist but brisk as it rose from the water in a soft fog. Dangling streetlamps lined the red-bricked bridge that ran parallel to the water and crossed the large river at the turn. Their yellow dim light appears to be swallowed by the strong, unstoppable current flowing beneath. The crashing waves roared with a forceful vengeance as they tunneled under the bridge. Water will flow through this confluence until the end of time. Still the loud flowing river is a peaceful tune, a calming and relaxing sound that removes fear from all that sit and listen to it.

Distant black birds began to gather as a crashing sound away from the water grabbed their attention. The birds swooped to the ground and landed. They began to search for food with their pitch black eyes and their long dark beaks. The birds resembled black shadows more than living creatures as they poked along through the frayed grass. The black birds also added comfort; they too were alive like the river that powered its way through the valley. Hidden in the darkness the crickets began to chirp and the frogs began to talk to each other in their special way.

Although activity seemed heavy, for one lone rider it was not. They had told him that it would be instantaneous and painless. They were…at least half right. There was no pain but it was not instantaneous. The river in front of him did supply some comfort; this was good and bad. Seventeen-year-old Shane Busse had never really seen the confluence before; at least he’d never looked directly at it. He had ridden by here and over this bridge thousands of times but had never noticed this beautiful site. It would have been a beautiful place to die. Time had been both good and bad to Shane. Time had given him the opportunity to lay and watch this wonderful site unfold in front of him. Time had given him the special treat to view as his body lay motionless. Time was also cruel. Shane had a broken neck and could not move a single limb. He could not touch the water now even if he tried. The young soul looked out to his hand and tried to move it but he could not.

His mother didn’t want him to buy the bike but he knew he could handle it. His father told him that if he didn’t kill himself on it surely someone else would. Although Shane did not have a license to ride it, one of his closest friends talked him into buying the motorcycle. His girlfriend told him to sell it or she’d break up with him. He did not sell it and she kept her promise to end their relationship. They all told him it would be quick and painless if he was ever in an accident on the motorcycle. They were half right. Shane didn’t feel a thing anywhere within his limp body. He felt cheated in a way.

The young, slightly curly-blonde haired high school senior lay on the riverbank drenched in blood. His black and gray letter jacket was ripped at the sleeve and covered in mud. His tan shorts covered most of his lower body as his scraped and bloody legs stretched out from underneath them. Blood seemed to drip from every hair on his young legs. As the precious red fluid began to flow from his nose and ears, his eyes searched around the grass and mud river bank for his beautiful blue bike. It was difficult for him to focus his eyes to locate his beloved friend. The sky was a midnight blue, the same color of his ride. Some thirty feet to his north, he noticed the motorcycle out of the corner of his eye. The front headlight was smashed — probably the latter also. The wheels no longer turned and the engine no longer purred. Only the sound of water crashing from the confluence could be heard as the two injured warriors lay motionless. With determination, Shane tried to focus on his motorcycle key ring that now lay next to the bike sparkling in the moonlight.

On the ring was a picture of his other love, Anne Marie; but he could not see her as it was too dark. A tear began to build in Shane Busse’s eye and the small water drop blocked his view of the prized bike. Shane moved his only remaining function: his blue eyes back to the confluence. He stared at the water as it moved with power and ease, something he could no longer do. Shane wasn’t really scared of dying. As funny as it felt to him he wasn’t even scared of never being able to walk again. What he feared the most was that the boy he was on his way to help would never know that Shane had forgiven him. The young paralyzed student was saddened to know that his close friend would never understand that he was coming back for him.

Over his short lifetime Shane was right about a lot of things. However, he was dead wrong about this one. Shane was wrong for getting a motorcycle license, without learning to ride the bike. Shane was wrong for refusing to wear a helmet — not that it would have saved him at this moment.

Shane was wrong for choosing the motorcycle over someone who really loved him and on this night Shane was wrong for fighting with her. Shane was wrong for speeding away in a bad mood. He was wrong for thinking he could handle the excess speed. He was wrong for thinking he could make it back in time to help his friend. He was also wrong for thinking something as innocent as a small white dog would never jump out in front of him while riding the bike. He was wrong for a lot of reasons. Unfortunately for the young rider, this one incident would be the final memory his family and friends would ever know of him.

Shane looked over to the confluence and noticed that a reflection of red and blue flashing lights began to fill the waters. He could hear the slight noise of a distant fire truck horn blaring. Help had arrived but it was too late. The blood from his internal injuries started to take over his body. The blood had nearly filled his lungs and Shane was just three breaths away from his last. With his first breath, he wished his family and friends a long healthy life. With his second breath, he hoped the girl that he fell in love with would move on and find a man with a love in his heart for her as strong as his. With his third and final struggling breath, he looked back over to the confluence and realized that heaven was a beautiful, peaceful place. His eyes continued to stare at the water until they too became motionless. His body had become completely silent. His eyes remained open and his soul moved forward like the water that rolled on in front of him; there was no stopping it as well.

August

Most of the severe pain had subsided. Only the rough scars from the stitches remained visible as seventeen year-old Adam Sawyer slowly rubbed his pale white chest where the surgery had taken place. His fingers slowly ran across the scar that now dominated his once youthful hairless chest. His pale white skin appeared to now have a zipper right down the middle of it. Adam still could not believe that was his chest. He was a very young man to be dealing with such an adult problem, he thought to himself.

His heart had never fully developed after the age of five. Doctors told his parents that he would need a new centerpiece over the course of his life. Sawyer’s family waited for years for such a unique and special gift, although they’d done their best to keep his vital secret from him. It had been more than five years since his name was added to a national heart transplant list. Although his current heart felt fine and seemed to be adjusting well to Adam’s body, he had been deathly ill for several weeks. If this new heart had not come along when it did, he would not be lying here rubbing his scar today; he would be dead. Like a gift from heaven, it was in his final hours that a special soul had come through. A single soul had given up his life so he could live. Adam had no idea how he could ever repay this wonderful person he would never meet. Maybe he could live the best life possible or take care of the new heart in a way that would help it live for many years to come. For hours upon hours he pondered this question. Adam Sawyer really had no idea what to think of his newly acquired lease on life. He wasn’t sure who had given it to him; he was just happy to be alive. He was happy to be rubbing a scar that for now was helping him enjoy the beautiful world, at least a little longer.

Adam again slowly rubbed his fingers back and forth across the scalpel cut line that was about twelve inches in length, stretching from the base of his neck and Adam’s apple to the bottom of his stomach. It looked like a long red stitch line, not unlike a baseball, that someone had drawn on him with a marker. But this was art of another sort. His chest still ached and burned a little near the stitches but the medicine had significantly reduced the pain. Shirtless, Adam looked up and around the white hospital room. It was a room he’d become very familiar with and a room in which he’d spent the better part of his junior year of high school. About half way through his junior year, he was rushed to the hospital. He spiraled in emotion wondering if he would ever see the outside of this room again. His best friend from school, Treat Dalton, had brought his homework in to him nearly every day. Amazingly, he was able to finish off the year from his hospital bed. It gave him purpose in what seemed like a deteriorating situation. It gave him hope when there wasn’t much to look forward to. It occupied his mind with thoughts of the future. But now his senior year was quickly approaching and he would be back in school and finally able to go to classes again. Unlike most teens, he was counting down the days until school would start. He was excited to see all his friends again, even the ones who did not come to visit him. It was a little bonus this new heart had given him and that was truly special.

As he looked around the room he noticed his doctor’s stethoscope lying across the back of the orange padded chair that was sitting next to his bed. The young brown haired blue-eyed man leaned forward and reached for the tool but could not grasp it. He leaned back, looked at the chair, and decided to take another try. He reached over, putting his fingers around the arm of the chair and pulled it closer. His body nearly slid off of the side of the bed and out of the white sheets as the chair moved closer to him. He reached up and grabbed the cold metal stethoscope and placed it around his neck and in his ears. He grabbed the end like he’d seen his doctors do hundreds of times and put the round listening part over his bare skin above his heart. It was very cold to the touch and he jumped softly as the end hit the skin.

Thump…thump…thump. The soft pounding echoed through his ears. He listened again. It was a pleasant sound of reassurance and the sweet sound of life. It was also a sound of security because his old heart never sounded this strong; it never beat to the same tune as a healthy heart. He’d never understood this until right now. Adam smiled a bit as he continued to listen to the soft steady beat. His smile was a large and unique one; he seemed to always show his teeth when he smiled; that’s how family and friends knew he was happy, when the teeth came out.

Thump…thump…thump. It was a beat so sweet few would really understand what the sounds were actually saying to him. The sound was telling the new owner that he was alive. It was also sending another message; the person who had died and given him the heart was also somehow still alive. That person was alive inside of him. Does that mean a part of me is dead? Adam wondered to himself. No, it means we are both still alive, answered his soul. He moved the end of the stethoscope closer to his left side and the beat became louder and stronger.

Who are you, my friend? Adam quietly asked the empty room. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Adam looked up still wearing the doctor’s favorite tool around his head.

Knock. Knock. The hard pounding seemed to illuminate the room.

Come in, Adam answered in a soft yet direct voice.

The door slowly opened and a large man Adam had never seen before entered the room. Adam quickly identified him as part Native American. He reminded Adam of a character that he once dreamed about as a child. He had dreamed of a large Indian sitting on a horse in front of the Grand Canyon. Adam had always considered the dream a nightmare because for some reason he’d woken up from this dream in a cold sweat. He was, however, five years old at the time so he never read a lot into it. Funny how I’m thinking of that dream right now? He laughed silently.

The large man was young and appeared to be in high school. He wore a black and gray letter jacket with white large letters L and P in a cross pattern on the front. Adam quickly identified the letter jacket as one from Lost Point High School. It was a school near his grandmother’s home south of the city. The mysterious man had shoulder length wavy pitch black and curly hair and his skin was dark tan. He was wearing blue jeans that were tight to his thigh muscles and appeared to be a bit lost yet confident when he entered the room.

Hello, offered the large stranger in a subdued tone.

Hi, Adam tossed back while lifting a hand as if to offer a wave. It was a weak wave from a still injured child.

The man walked into the room and slowly approached the end of Sawyer’s twin medical bed. He looked around the room and did not make a lot of eye contact with the patient who sat in front of him in an upright reclined position. The large stranger looked at Adam who was half covered by a white sheet at his waist and was still holding the stethoscope onto his chest and the earpieces in his ears. The Native American man looked at the exposed chest and scar shown off by Adam as his dark brown eyes grew bigger. Adam suddenly got an embarrassed look on his face as he quickly realized he was still uncovered and wearing a doctor’s tool around his neck. He quickly reached up and pulled the cords from his ears and dragged the scope over to the side of the bed. He used his right hand to slowly pull the sheet up over his stomach.

Who are you looking for? Adam asked as he softly pulled the thin white sheets up over his chest. The stranger looked around then turned back to the patient and stuck his hands in his front pockets.

My mother is a nurse at this hospital, he stated with a slight Native American accent. She told me you were here.

Adam felt a little surprised but looked at the man and nodded his head as the stranger continued to talk. He’d never seen the man before so he wasn’t sure if his new friend was even in the right room but Sawyer remained quiet.

My name…is Alan Tallchief. The man said proudly with his head up then paused for a slight second. Listen, I know the rules. I know people are not supposed to contact friends and family of the donor but I wanted to tell you Shane was my friend.

Adam’s eyes grew bigger as he looked up and pushed his backside toward his pillow, making his body rise a bit. It was all he could think to do as he sat stunned for a couple of seconds. Then he moved his left hand across the scar that was on his chest. He was starting to get goose bumps on his arms and chest but wasn’t very cold.

You have a very special heart inside of you — it’s a heart that many people loved. Shane was my friend, Tallchief repeated while nodding his head and refusing to make eye contact with Adam. His eyes quickly panned the room looking at several items. He did all he could to avoid Adam’s face; although he did from time to time stare at the scar.

Adam, not knowing what to say, blurted out…

Thank you! I mean, I want to say that to Shane. I know this must be really tough seeing me lying here knowing your friend is dead.

Tallchief looked away as his eyes had become red but the strong man was able to hold back any tears that were about to unveil themselves. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them on his waist.

Shane was a good kid, he said once again nodding his large head. His long black hair bounced as he talked. He had a bright and wonderful life in front of him. We all feel responsible for what happened to him. Everyone knew he would kill himself one day on that motorcycle. Some of us still blame ourselves. Still, he loved riding it the way we loved being with him. Probably the way he wanted to go out, you know?

The two men remained motionless as a moment passed.

Would you like to sit down? Adam offered while pointing to the chair next to the bed. The large man looked around then shook his head.

No. The two paused for a few more seconds of silence that seemed like years, as an awkward feeling grew in the room. Adam, curious to know more about Shane, tried to break the building tension and leaned forward toward the stranger.

What floor does your mom work on? he asked.

The eighth. She helps deliver babies, he said in a happier voice, while pulling his hands from his sides, then sliding them back into his pockets, only to pull them out again.

Thanks for coming here. I really mean that…thanks. They told me when I got my new heart it was a rule that they would not tell me who the donor was. I knew I’d want to know. How old was Shane? Adam asked with a smile.

He was just seventeen, a junior. He lost control of his motorcycle and hit a bridge. His body flew over the side and landed on the bank near the water. They say he died instantly, Alan replied.

Both men paused again.

Is that your letter jacket? Where do you go to school? Adam asked, although he already knew the answer.

Yeah, it’s Lost Point High, over in Covington. It’s about thirty-five miles south of here, Alan replied while looking down at the jacket.

Yeah, I’ve heard of it. My grandmother lives near there. Oh, and I had a friend from my elementary school that transferred there.

Really? Who? asked Alan Tallchief.

His name is John Barr. Do you know him? Adam asked with a smile.

I do. We played football together. Not one of my best friends but he’s a good guy. We both actually graduated there last year. Shane would have been a senior this year Alan responded.

Yeah, Johnnie was a good guy from what I remember about him. He had a really small pool in his back yard…strange, Adam stated with a curious look.

Where do you go to school? Alan asked while stuttering a bit. He stepped a little closer to Adam and looked down at the scar again. He was listening and talking to Sawyer but his focus seemed to be on the scar. He stuck his large hands back into his pockets. His big tan hands flowed out of the tight jean pockets as he worked to get the end of his fingers into the smaller jeans.

Here in the city. I’ll be senior at South High next year. Strange to think I’m already a senior. Seems like I never had a junior year. He paused. Tell me more about Shane. Did he play sports? What was his last name? Sawyer asked.

Feeling more comfortable, Alan walked over to the side of the bed and pulled the chair out, then flopped down in it. His tight jeans rose from the legs as he sat down forcing the end of the blue jeans to rise way above the white socks and brown shoes he was wearing. Due to his size, he still sat equal to Adam’s eyes sitting in the chair with Sawyer in the bed. Adam instantly understood this new friend was a popular athlete at Lost Point…he had to be. He knew he was a football player thanks to all the medals and patches that lined his jacket. Adam could also tell his new friend was a very serious person. He could tell by his tone that he wasn’t one to mince words or joke around. At least that was the side he was showing to Adam on this day. Maybe I just need to get to know him better? Adam questioned as he slid around the bed looking for the most comfortable spot.

Shane was a character, let me tell you. He was so funny. We were friends since we were kids, playing football together all that time. Shane was younger than me. I was born in July and he was born the following January, so we were a year apart in school. But we were still best friends. Shane, me and Manny we were always together. Shane-o was something. Alan’s voice had become more hyper and excited. He was always the best in any sport we played. He was always the first to talk to a girl and he always knew what to say, Alan said jokingly as he smiled. He was the life of the party and the one we all knew would be the most successful. I don’t understand why he had to die so young. Damn motorcycle. The others went out and bought them but not me. I knew I couldn’t handle that thing…just look at me. What would this body look like on a small bike? he joked. But Shane, he made anything look easy. He’s really going to be missed when school starts. I don’t think his class is going to be able to forget him. It sucks because this was supposed to be his senior year. That may be the saddest part; Shane not being able to get his diploma at Lost Point. He was also one of the smartest students in class…dude could even play guitar.

Sounds like a great guy and a talented kid, Adam said almost whispering.

He was, dude, he was, Alan answered back with energy. Adam reached up and rubbed his head then ran his fingers through his hair. He did that a lot when he was frustrated or really concentrating on something. Alan looked back over at the scar on Adam’s chest and shook his head.

I can’t believe a piece of my best friend is in there. That just blows my mind! he exclaimed.

I’m sorry you lost your friend, Alan. I can tell he really meant a lot to you, Adam offered in a sad voice.

I guess that makes you my friend…huh? Alan sent back.

Without a doubt! Adam responded quickly and with a big smile.

He held up a high five and Alan reached up and slapped it. The two boys smiled and paused again as Alan looked up to a TV mounted on the wall in front of them.

Listen, here’s an idea, he said excitedly as he turned back to Adam. You ought to go to Lost Point your senior year. You would really like it. Alan continued to build more energy. It’d be just like having Shane back. Adam sat still and stared at the empty TV set, then tried to take in the concept for a few seconds. He turned back to Tallchief.

No, I’m not sure if I’d fit in down there. I’ve known the same people at South my whole life. I’m not real big on change, Adam offered with concern.

Still, maybe it’s something you ought to think about. I’d introduce you to some good people. There are some jerks there but I guess there are jerks everywhere. I’d look out for you. I’d tell them to not mess with you or they’d have to deal with me, Tallchief said in a joking tone and a slight accent. Adam looked over to the window as the bright sunlight began to glare through the open windows and into the room reflecting off nearly everything around him. He turned back to Alan.

I’d like to see some pictures of Shane and get to know more about him. Do you have some time to get together when I get out of here?

Sure. I got nothing going on. I’m not going to college right now. Shane and I had talked about playing football together at the next level but I’m not really sure I’m even interested in that any more. When are you getting out of here? Alan asked as he lifted his hands onto the side rails of the chair and slightly tipped the chair back as he rocked.

Soon, within the next week, Adam confirmed.

Okay, you can come to Covington. Let me give you my cell number, Alan reached over and grabbed a pen from the table next to Adam’s bed. He grabbed a magazine and tore a small corner from the cover. He took the pen, wrote his number on the paper, handed it to Adam, then tossed the magazine away and set the pen back on the table.

You need anything you call me, okay? Alan said.

Okay, Adam replied.

Come down to Covington and I’ll show you where he lived and show you some pictures. Only don’t tell anyone. My mom could get in real trouble if it got out that I came to see you. Okay? Alan asked with a concerned look.

I won’t tell anyone. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks, Adam assured him as he looked down at the number on the torn paper in his hand.

Okay then. Alan pushed up from the side rails on the chair, stood up and reached his hand out to Adam. Adam looked up to the man and stuck his right hand over as well and the two grabbed hands and shook firmly. Tallchief’s hand nearly swallowed Adam’s hand as they shook.

It was nice to meet you, Adam Sawyer. Please take care of the gift that my friend has given you, Alan said back in the same tone he had when he entered the room.

I will. Thanks for coming here. I know it wasn’t easy to do, Adam responded.

Okay, see you later. The two men let the grasp free. Alan Tallchief stuck his hands back in his front jean pockets and walked back out the door. As the door slowly shut Adam reached back over and picked up the stethoscope from the side of his bed. He put the cords back in his ears and once again quietly listened to the new life that he had been given.

Thump, thump, thump. The new heart sang as Adam listened in his headset. He reached down and grabbed the white sheet that he’d used to cover his chest and once again slid it back down to his waist. He began rubbing the red zipper scar that was now a permanent fixture on his body. He was a happy as he’d ever been in his entire life.

August, Three Weeks Later

Thump thump thump thump thump thump. The wide old black and slightly cracked car tires made an interesting and consistent sound as they crossed the red brick bridge that ran over the confluence and led to the edge of the small town of Covington. As the older green sports car drove over the bridge, Adam Sawyer looked out the driver’s side window and to the left. He stared at the confluence that was flowing together just before it went under the bridge. His shorter brown hair briefly shuttered in the soft August wind as a small smile crossed his pale but tanning face. The brown and white flowing water was high and fast, quickly picking up speed as it rushed for the small opening under the old red brick bridge. The water was dark. Nothing he’d ever want to swim in — but it was bubbly white in several spots where the oxygen bubbles shot up making their way to the surface of the free flowing river. Large old broken tree branches had collected near the base of the bridge but were forced to the side and trapped against it. The branches sat motionless, quietly waiting for their next chance at freedom yet pinned against the red brick.

That’s really powerful! Adam said softy under his breath as the car completed its pass over the bridge and the tire thumping noise disappeared.

Adam was not alone in his 1967 dark green and black Pontiac Firebird as he gripped the wheel tighter and approached his new all-be-it brief home. The old classic car was packed full of medium sized brown moving boxes which made it a bit difficult for him to see out of the small and skinny back windows. In the black and cracked vinyl passenger seat next to him sat several large brown boxes stacked end to end with black markings identifying the valuables inside: books; computer stuff; medical supplies. They shook and slid as the car drove slowly down the road. This old car seemed to shake more at slower speeds than faster ones because it was used to being driven fast. Adam looked up into his rear view mirror, his deep blue eyes quickly remembered it was nearly full of brown boxes in his eyesight; there was just enough of a crack through the vibrating boxes to see out the top of the window. He’d looked up about a thousand times along this trip only to be reminded the view was blocked. He grimaced in frustration; although Adam wasn’t really concerned because the ride was not a long one. Adam really kept looking up because he was more concerned about what he was leaving. He was not completely sold on this latest idea of his...or a new friend.

It was only about forty-five minutes from the city but to Sawyer this seemed much farther away as he drove down the long, two-way winding road that let to Covington. The scenery seemed to occupy a lot of his driving time as his young head quickly turned from one side to the other trying to soak up as much atmosphere as he could. This small town was nothing like the big city he’d been used to. It was quiet and less active. The streets had very little action on this late Saturday morning. Time seemed to stand still in places around this town. It reminded Adam of the old tree sitting at the edge of the bridge. They were stuck with no place to go. It was like the town was just waiting for something to happen but nothing ever did. This was actually a comforting feeling for Adam as he let out a sigh of relief in the form of passing gas.

Back in the city not an hour of the day passed when cars weren’t speeding by him; sometimes he was the one speeding by others. No matter what hour of the day he drove through the city, traffic always lined the roads. Yes, this country life was more relaxing, he thought. It was tough to experience the entire town due to all the boxes that filled his car. They were not easy to look over especially when they shook. He wasn’t completely bothered by the restricted view because all he really needed was to see out of the front window. He was following his father’s big golden Dodge truck and as long as he stayed close enough to read the tag he knew he wouldn’t get lost. Besides, Adam had been here several times before. This was his grandmother’s hometown and it was soon to be his, at least for one final school year.

Adam noticed his dad had flipped on his orange blinker and was making a left turn at the next stop sign. Adam followed suit, turned off the smooth paved road onto a dirt one, and drove nearly to the end of the dirt street. His window was down slightly and some of the dust kicking off his father’s truck tires had made its way into the cabin of the Firebird. This made driving a little more difficult, so Adam slowed down and let his father’s truck pull away a bit. Sawyer coughed a couple of times then used his hand to wave the dirt back out of his car. As he approached his grandmother’s home he got a familiar safe feeling. This small modular home was one he’d been in several times although he’d never thought that he’d be living in it.

The rough engine continued to semi-loudly push exhaust out of the tailpipes. White smoke slowly crept out from under the old car as Adam pulled up to the house and dropped his round silver shifter into neutral. He turned the key to off and the engine stopped as the Firebird rolled to a stop. His gray-headed father had already begun to get out of the truck but the younger sat in the car for a little longer just to take in the view of the long rectangular-shaped house. He was much bigger now than the last time he’d been here so things looked somewhat smaller than he’d remembered. It was a long skinny white mobile home. The home was lined with hundreds of skinny white strips of metal siding and sat on wheels that appeared to be rusted out around the bolts. The grass had grown up around the rusted rims as if trying to hide them; but a few of the