“Ro and I can take the bottle toss,” I offer. My best friend, Aurora, has no idea that I’m signing her up to help with the carnival, but she probably won’t mind. The bottle toss is a bunch of tin cans or glass milk bottles, stacked in a pyramid, and kids throw balls at it. They get three tries to get all ten bottles or cans down.
Mom’s been nodding along with us, making notes. At the mention of Ro, Mom grins a bit and hands me an extra consent form. Mom is all about self-expression and loves Ro’s outgoing personality and flaming purple hair. She says Aurora’s got charisma. I’m not sure my mom’s ever been more proud than when she found out I’d made a friend like Ro.
Mom’s been teaching at the elementary school since I was little. She absolutely adores children. When she sees babies or toddlers, she instantly devolves into a jumble of baby talk and silly faces.
Dad is Mr. Fix-it. Our cars never get taken to a repair shop because he can do it all himself. He seems rough on the outside, but as soon as you get close to him, you know that he’d do anything for you. Matt and Lena tell me I’m his favorite, but I’m not. We just communicate better than the others.
Like I said earlier, Lena goes to a local art school. She’s always been in love with photography. I wish I was half as good at anything as she is at taking pictures. Lena met Smith in her junior year of high school and they’re coming up on their second anniversary. They make such a beautiful couple. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. Lena’s always had everything I wanted: beauty, friends, and talent. Maybe it’s sibling rivalry, but I feel like I never compare to her.
Matt is your typical little brother. He can be totally obnoxious and eating at my last nerve one moment, and then my sweet best friend the next. He doesn’t realize his full potential. He could do so much more with his life, but he’s fifteen and convinced he knows better.
Last year, some things happened at school. Suffice it to say, by the end of it, I was lonelier than I’d ever been before. That’s when I met Ro. She completely turned my life upside down and, for the most part, I don’t care what others think now.
“Do I have to help?” Matt asks, still staring at the TV.
“Yes, Matty,” Mom replies in her “I’m not arguing about this” voice.
“Fine, just sign me up for something easy.” He pauses for only a moment. “And that doesn’t mean watching over the kids playing Duck, Duck, Gray Duck like last year.” We all laugh, remembering how Matt whined for days after getting that station at last year’s Fall Fest.
Mom stands up, walks to the kitchen, and says, “All right, well I guess we’re done here. Before any of you go back upstairs, I want chores finished.”
We all groan but we know better than to argue.
***
“Hey, Ro,” I say, walking up to the purple-haired girl I call my best friend.
“Hello, Anna,” she says, laughing at me.
“So, guess what you’re doing this weekend?”
She gives me a look. “Going to work and then going home to chill on the couch?”
“Nope! You’re helping me out at my mom’s Fall Fest!” I proclaim, trying to make it sound way more fun than it really is.
“No, I am not.” She narrows her eyes at me.
I bite my lip. “I may have already signed you up.”
“Anna!” she practically yells. “Why would you sign me up for something like that?”
“’Cause I wanted to do it with you!”
She gets a salacious smile on her face. “Everybody does.”
I burst out laughing when she wiggles her eyebrows at a guy walking past us.
“I think that kid just pissed his pants,” I say, watching him do a running walk to get away from us.
“Eh, what can I say? Sometimes the excitement gets to be too much for the young ones.”
She shrugs modestly as she loads more books into her backpack.
I purposely waited until now, at the end of the day on Friday, to tell her about this weekend, but I’d spent the week making sure she wouldn’t be busy. I’m just sneaky like that. I knew that if I told her about it before now, she’d make plans to get out of it.
“Anyway, please help out. It’s really not that bad and we got a pretty easy booth,” I say, pouting a little.
Her nose wrinkles and a sigh escapes her lips before she nods. “Fine. I’ll go, but I’m not looking forward to it.” I squeal and throw my arms around her shoulders. “You owe me cookies or something,” she adds.
I laugh and nod before backing up and heading down the hallway. “I will see you tomorrow morning,” I call out.
“Yeah, yeah. Just go!” she yells back, laughing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amelia Whitmore graduated as a librarian and has worked for a few years in one of the biggest libraries of her city, but her long lasting dream has always been to publish the stories she has been writing ever since she understood the meaning of love and romance. At the age of 26 years old, she finally managed to accomplish her dream.
Kickoff for Love Page 15