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Summertime Blues

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Have you ever heard the phrase, "Time flies when you want it to stand still?" That's all I hear when I think about walking across the graduation stage in about nine months.

Being a senior comes with responsibilities that most of us never wanted to face in the first place. It takes so much of our heart to accept that we're growing up. Our childhood is the part of our lives that shapes us into who we are as adults. Where do I stand, then? Will I be able to be the person I want to be? Will I be able to succeed in the way that I want to? There are questions that have been unanswered. Going into senior year, I am almost certain I am ready to have them answered.

Summer break has ended. It's always sad to watch summer leave us. Many live to see her shine. She brightens us up on our cloudiest days. When you have to watch her go, it's like your heart is breaking all over again.

It's called "summertime blues." Kids are starting school. The sun starts to fade away. Our days are suddenly shorter. The air becomes chilled. We're preparing for falling leaves. It's sad when the seasons change, but we are changing with them. We're getting older. It's a scary thought.

I'm not sure if walking through the halls of our school is a breath of fresh air or if my nerves are so wound together that I don't know how I should feel. When you start school and you hear people calling your name, do you ever feel like these people have become strangers? You spend so much time away from some people that you hardly recognize them by the time summer has ended. Sometimes it's physically. Other times, they're mentally and emotionally different. It's hard to look at someone who used to hold the title of "best friend" and realize their entire personality has been compromised.

Everyone's changing, though – every single day, you're either a little bit stronger or a tad weaker. Maybe you're slightly happier, or maybe you're just getting sadder. No matter where you end up, everything will be okay, right?

"Rowan," I hear someone calling in the distance. That's my name. Rowan Elizabeth Smith. When I whip my head around, I spot Jeremy running toward me. Jeremy is one of those people you can't shake off no matter how hard you try. He sticks to you like glue, but more like the industrial kind.

I smirk at him as he tumbles toward me. "Hi Jeremy," I mumble as I slam my locker door shut. Vacationing in a state halfway across the country definitely makes you realize how you grateful you are to have the people you do in your life. Jeremy, for example – he's been my best friend since grade school. Not once has he changed for anyone else. People admire him for his individuality and his humor. He mostly worms his way into your heart – like a worm would an apple, but all the way around.

He's trying to frantically explain summer before the bell rings, telling me all about how he got a new video game and spent most of his time with his new neighbor. He gets so caught up in his words that it gives me time to get caught up in my thoughts. He reminds me of my old friend, Remy.

Remy and I used to spend entire summers and even school years together. Unfortunately, a big argument over her move to Alaska led to us not even speaking to each other. I haven't spoken to her since she moved two years ago. We always used to talk about graduating together. Maybe we were just clueless back then – or maybe we were hopeful. Either way, I always find the memory leaving holes in my heart, the part of my heart where she used to be able to write whole books of memories.

The bell rings before Jeremy can finish his story. I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head when he realized he was going to be late. I smiled at him as he yelled, "Later Rowan," while running down the hallway. I leave my locker and head to my new sociology class. That's one of the perks of being a senior. You can take classes that help you learn about why people are the way they are.

I take a seat, thinking maybe Mrs. Jenkins hadn't noticed that I was late. As soon as I sat down, she glanced at me and chuckled. "Good afternoon, Ms. Smith. You're lucky it's the first day and I'm handing out free late passes," she says as a new student walks in behind me. I don't think to turn around. We're all used to new students at our school that it eventually stops surprising us when someone different walks through the door.

"Class, I'd like to introduce you to Remy Wilson." My heart leaps to my stomach as soon as her name as called. She has the same blue eyes and curly hair she's always had. She stares right at me when Mrs. Jenkins tells her to take a seat behind me. I sigh deeply and Remy does the same. We listen to the teacher without acknowledging one another.

Towards the end of the class, the teacher returns to her desk, allowing the class to reminisce. I turn around and look at Remy. She frowns at me at first, then with a smile, she says, "Hey. Believe it or not, I've missed you." I smile and nod, saying, "I missed you, too."

By the time the bell rings, we're both laughing about our past. "I'll see you later?" she asks, and I agree with a smile. My summertime blues are washed away, and I realize that maybe, just maybe, this year won't be so tough after all.

Each issue The Peorian will reprint original stories written by area students, age 5 on up, to showcase their talents and encourage them to keep writing.

We encourage teachers and students to send us stories to editor@thepeorian.com. Parental permission is required before we will reprint a story. This issue we feature a fictional short story written by Lindsey Avena, a senior at Peoria Heights High School.

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