Lucid Waking

To Look For America (3)

        “Good morning, Johnny,” Bree said, smiling.
        “’Morning, Bree,” he answered. “You look cheerful this morning.”
        “Do I? Must be the light,” she said, looking up the at the expansive pre-dawn darkness.
        “Or lack of it,” John said, finally cracking a smile.
        “Hey, listen. I wanted to ask you something.”
        “Ok.”
        “So I got a letter a couple days ago about the Miss America contest out east. I was wondering if you could drive me.”
        “Wait, where is this?”
        “New York,” she said quieter.
        “That’s really far away. Why can’t your parents take you?”
        “They’re not letting me go. But before you lecture me, I just really want the chance to do something different. I don’t want to disobey them, but I don’t think this is really fair. It’s the first opportunity I’ve ever gotten to leave town and do something different.”
        John remained silent. He sighed and tried to look her square in the eyes to decline, but she was focused more on her feet and he could tell in the growing light of dawn that she was crying. Taken aback, he lost his firm resolve.
        “Don’t cry. It’s not that big of a deal.”
        “I don’t know about you,” Bree answered, “but I don’t want to stay here and be a farmer my whole life.”
        That struck a chord and John answered angrily, “Some of us don’t have a choice.”
        Bree swallowed back her tears. “Damn it, I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”
        The two of them could hear a car coming from farther up the road towards them. Bree quickly brushed away her tears, sniffed a couple times, and adopted an air that suggested nothing was wrong. John watched with admiration as she compose herself quickly and smiled broadly as her good friend got out of the car and gave Bree a hug.
        “Hey, Bree,” he said drawing her from the conversation she was trying to keep light. “I’ll drive you. Just tell me when.”

Author’s comments on post 372: Introduction of a very important character. You met him before, and he seems to like his motorcycle. Apparently he has a car, as well. More of this on Sunday! Read the rest of the story here.

This entry was posted on Friday, March 26th, 2010 at 8:58 am and is filed under End of Childhood, Fiction Prose, Realistic Fiction, Short Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.