The next day was hectic. My father said that staying home from school today was indisputable, which I had zero opposition to anyways. We were primarily just bustling around the park, hanging up the final decorations, preparing a diverse menu of food and beverages, and doing one last termination of all of the bugs and unsightly, hazardous insects we occasionally found near the attractions.
My dad strictly prohibited the intentional murder of anything. A house fly? Detain it with a cup. A rat? Shoo it away with a broom. He was vegetarian, and when I was under his supervision, so was I. That was why the pesticides we used only had the effect of temporarily paralyzing the creature so that we had the chance to release it without trauma. I understood his urge to never hurt a living, sentient being, but sometimes he went a bit overboard. If I was being honest, I liked that about him.
We phoned Harris and asked about his condition. He sounded bilious on the other end of the line, like nausea was always creeping up and assaulting him. "The docs think I have a stomach bug," he murmured in his thick Southern accent.
"I don't know kid, I'm not a doctor," my father told him, almost sounding peeved, as if he was upset that Harris wasn't here working. "Dad, he would throw up on the guests," I remarked. He shrugged. "Get well soon Harris," he said curtly before hanging up. The tension was strong in the air. Me and Zach had certainly made an impact, but what if it wasn't enough?
After a few hours, we halted our work for lunch break, only because we had become too exhausted to converse anymore and in the weary silence, our growling stomachs had become uncomfortably noticeable.
While we were enjoying our lunchtime interlude, devouring some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and trying to speak with the thick substance clinging to our teeth and tongue, I thought about everything. My parents separated. They asservated that it was because their relationship wasn't working out, but I had always known it was because of Falcon, yet here I was desperately trying to save it. Help the place that destroyed my family.
I didn't vocalize these thoughts, because I knew they would upset my dad. But they were present, and that was enough to make me lose my appetite for dessert.
We finished up, and my dad allowed me to invite Zachary. I needed to vent to someone that wasn't a parental figure in my life.
Zach came promptly after I called him, he paid the bus fare but I had fifty dollars to give him, so I assumed he wouldn't be too pissed. I located the unruly looking bill in my pocket and carefully unfolded it. I stared at President Ulysses S. Grant and sighed.
There was a tactless piece of my brain that was tempted to take it and buy a ticket back to New York, buy a stylish backpack and a chic outfit that would impress my friend's, and relish the attention. But of course, I was giving it to Zachary for all of his hard work.... That he did to help fund the place that destroyed my life.
It occurred to me that I had never taken the time to address my emotions. They were just bubbling up inside me like bile before I hurled. Poor Harris, I thought sadly. Poor Mom. I never thought after all that had happened that I would develop an aversion towards my second home. Towards the people that inhabited it.
Fortunately the feelings didn't conquer me completely because Zachary came in time to snap me out of my stupor.
We ambled through the forest together, hauling a dainty looking picnic basket, hand woven by my grandmother (she died three years back), while Zach driveled on about how optimistic he was about WF. I sort of shied away and kept as quiet as possible, never interrupting Zach's rambling once. We strolled all the way down to Lake Monica, a tranquil, placid lake where visitors came to decompress and recharge after a long, grueling day of outdoor physical activities. A few people were scattered around the bank, but it was basically unoccupied.
We debated on where we should sit for a while before finally coming to the conclusion that it would be more fun to eat perched in a tree. "Like birds," Zach had commented when I first proposed the idea. I just nodded my head in response, knowing the more secluded it was, the better. I didn't need a resident eavesdropping and reporting to my father whatever they had heard.
We clambered up a sturdy white oak that overlooked the entire clearing. While Zach unwrapped some crumpets his mom had baked us, I told him everything that was on my mind.
When I finished, he almost spewed the chocolate milk he was guzzling down out of his mouth. "What do you MEAN Falcon destroyed your life? What about me? You wouldn't have met ME if you never came to school," he cried furiously, obviously trying to mask his hurt with anger. I felt beyond remorseful. How could I say that to Zach? I was his ONLY friend and I had just shattered his little heart.
Tears started rolling down his face, despite his wheezing and attempts to staunch them. He slid off of the tree and dashed back up the trail.
He had drawn a lot of undesired attention from the people enjoying the lake. They were all scowling at me, slowly shaking their heads, either miffed or disgruntled by my actions. I wanted to burst out bawling, but I knew I didn't deserve that luxury, so instead I directed my attention to cleaning up the food, and then probably staying in the tree until I mustered the courage to face Zach again, if he hadn't left the park yet.
What had I done? Would something change about WF? Would Zach ever talk to me again? How could I be so ungrateful and selfish? Half an hour later, I began the trek up to the lodge. I felt like a disgrace still, but the sun was setting and the pond would be an eerie place in the dark.
To my horror, my father had finished affixing a banner to the main entrance that read : HAYES-TILLIS WILDERNESS FEST
My dad's face was pulled into a grin, his crooked teeth gleaming in the golden light of the sunset. "Dad," I groaned, mortified. What would all of the people at school think if Zach didn't come? What would they think if he came looking so despondent?
I knew I should tell my father what had happened, he deserved an explanation.
When he saw my dissatisfied expression, his smile drooped down into a frown. "What is it Blue-Lu?" I shrugged. "Before festival jitters maybe?" I lied, biting my lip and praying he would buy the excuse. I shuffled away hastily before he could ask any more questions, tears seeping out of my eyes.
YOU ARE READING
SAVING FALCON
General Fiction----September Realistic Fiction Challenge---- Luanne Hayes visits her father once every month at his WIlderness Adventure park, Falcon, but everything changes when she learns that due to financial struggles, her father might have to close the p...
