Everyone’s changing, though – every single
day, you’re either a little bit stronger or a tad
weaker. Maybe you’re slightly happier, or may-
be you’re just getting sadder. No matter where
you end up, everything will be okay, right?
“
Rowan,” I hear someone calling in the dis-
tance. 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 togeth-
er. 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 Wil-
son.” 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 acknowl-
edging 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 laugh-
ing 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 f ctional short story written by
Lindsey Avena, a senior at Peoria Heights High School.
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