(I don't know what to put as the title...YET)

This is just a sweet, light children's book about first love. I've been working on it here and there for the past little while, here's a quick excerpt so I can see what you think!

“Have you ever thought about your own funeral?”

            It was the type of question that could only be asked in this position- lying down under the sycamore tree, the sun beating down its golden rays, our heads touching. Any other place or time and I knew that Tucker wouldn’t have the guts.

            “No…” I said slowly. “Have you?”

            Tucker sighed. “Yes. Everyone’s there, crowding my coffin so they can catch a glimpse at me before I’m buried under ground. Matilda is weeping, wondering why she never admitted to loving such a handsome soul-”

            I shoved him. Matilda is my older sister. She loves Tucker as much as I love carrying home groceries from Townsend Plaza- which isn’t very much at all.

            “-And countless journalists from around the nation are there, jotting down any information they can find to go into my autobiography.”

            “I could write an autobiography about you.” I propped myself up onto my elbows and gazed at him; his bowl-cut brown hair, blue eyes, constant smile, and scrawny frame. Summer freckles sprayed both his cheeks. “Tucker McCoy the second, born on July 14^th twelve years ago, was named after his father, Tucker McCoy the first. Although he admits to-”

            Tucker laughed. He sat up, wiping the grass stains off his jeans. “Alright, alright. I get it. I know it’s weird…but I can’t help it. When you die people realize what they should have done when you were alive.”

            “Do you know who Pablo Picasso is?” Tucker asked me. His blue eyes shone with curiosity. I could sense another one of his lectures; his random spouts of knowledge. But I didn’t care. It was nice being with him, on this cool August night before school started again.

The next morning Tucker came to my door wearing a blue plaid shirt and a pair of crisp starched jeans. It was an outfit that screamed Mrs. McCoy; but I didn’t mind. I didn’t tell any of the other kids at school that his mother still put out his clothes and cut his hair over the kitchen sink. It was secrets like that best kept between friends.

            The walk to the school aroused the butterflies in my stomach. The freshly paved sidewalks were smooth; my battered black high tops slapped against the asphalt nonchalantly. Tucker didn’t speak and I liked it that way. Sometimes walks are best silent, and this was one of those times.

            We passed storefronts along Main Street with their front doors open; Delilah’s Bakery had delicious smells wafting out onto the street. My mouth watered when I set my eyes upon the rows of delicate croissants. I had a few coins in my pocket but I knew we didn’t have time; if we lingered we’d be late and we would miss roll call. There was nothing as embarrassing as missing roll call on the very first day of school.

            When we finally reached the great brick building Tuck and I just stood there and looked at it. It was an unfamiliar sight to me; even if I had gone there for ten months straight just twelve weeks ago. The schoolyard was bustling; little kids on the four square courts, fifth graders on the soccer fields, and the rest of us waiting outside the front doors. What was it with seventh graders, I wondered, that made us embarrassed to play four square? Tucker and I drew a four square court on his driveway in chalk one lazy summer afternoon. We’d had fun bouncing a rubber ball back and forth, trying to get one another ‘out.’

            But now this was different. Tucker stood beside me and for the first time, the very first time in all the twelve years I’d known him, I looked at him- really looked at him. Was he handsome? I’d never liked the way the other girls giggled about boys, whispering about their smiles and how fast they ran in gym class. But I was growing up. Maybe it was time for me to look at Tucker in a different light than I was used to. Maybe it was time for me to really see him.

            Tucker caught my eye and smiled at me, in that poignant way he had where he raised the corner of his lip crooked. “Charlotte,” he said, touching my arm lightly. “Are you ready?”

            I nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

            And that was how we entered the seventh grade, together.

To be continued. Write a comment below telling me what you think...and brainstorm some possible titles!

Author's Note

Please write a review!

Reviews

[madmocha]

Very good story, Blake. I'm impressed by your character driven style. Like I said with the other one, it's completely fresh. The feel is open and clean (what does that mean?).
:) I was trying to think of a better way to say it and couldn't. It's a nice story that draws you through. Are you going to post more...or did you follow the call to PV? ;)

[[untitled]]

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This is amazing! I like the descriptions in this.

[Bailey C. Writing]

Hey, I really liked it. So that's what you used Tucker for ;) I want to read more!