Holding On

~ • Chapter 4 • ~ Birdhouses, Peach Picking, and Bra Sizes

I Wiped The sweat from my forehead.

I took a minute to get myself together, sucking in a deep breath and squaring my shoulders. When I had gone to the Campbell's house that morning, pretending to be completely prepared for whatever life felt inclined to throw at me on that particular day, I did not realize to the full extent how difficult it was to pick small, tennis-ball-sized fruits from trees.

Even vacuuming the dog hair from Mrs. Jakebson's carpeted floor, bathtub, and bed sheets was not this bad. Gross, yes, but not this physically draining.

I stepped cautiously onto the next step, making sure I had my footing steady before I shifted my weight. Today I had learned that I was not very fond of heights, so, therefore, ladders were very terrible. But unfortunately they were crucial in order to reach tall things, because I was not very tall. It was eighty-six degrees, I was standing three steps up on a ladder - as far as I could go - and stretching my arm to its full length in order to pick freaking peaches. I wasn't exactly in the most terrific mood.

"It would help if you stepped further up the ladder," Mr. Petrie called out to me from the comfort of his lawn chair, where he sat reading a newspaper and drinking a cool glass of lemonade.

"Yeah," I said, gritting my teeth so I wouldn't spit fire at him. "Thanks for the tip."

I bit my lip and looked down at my feet, trying not to focus on my panting. I carefully lifted my right foot and placed it on the next step, testing out my balance. Mustering the courage, I lifted my left foot and planted it next to the right, letting out a small breath of relief. I raised my eyes to see the last three peaches left, and determination set in as I reached for them. I leaned too far, though, and my weight caused the ladder to slide down the branch it was resting on. The ladder was fine, in the end, but my foot slipped and I landed hard on the ground, a dull pain shooting up my back. I groaned, but Mr. Petrie was too focused on his crossword puzzle to notice.

Jenna slid open the sliding glass door and bounded down the steps, calling out cheerily. "Everything is all set and organized in your medicine cabinet, Mr. Petrie. And I must say, what a lovely home you have!"

"Well, thank you Jenna, you're just a dear." He patted her hand, then offered her a glass of lemonade.

"Charlie? What are you doing on the ground?" she asked, and I opened my previously closed eyes. I was hoping they wouldn't notice, then after the pain subsided I could quietly sit up and resume my work.

"I fell."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm peachy. No pun intended."

She sighed, then walked over and helped me up. My butt hurt, and so did my lower back, but I told them I was okay. "Have some lemonade for all your hard work, Charlie," Mr. Petrie said, and I felt slightly gratified. Not once this whole time had he offered me a drink. I guess I should have gotten injured more often.

He poured me a glass while Jenna checked her phone, and I prepared myself for the cool relief. I took a sip, though, and suddenly had the urge to spit it out. Way, way too sweet. Like drinking candy.

"How is it?" he asked, a smile on his round face.

"Good, thank you," I choked out, and spit it on the ground when he wasn't looking.

"Alright, Charlie," Jenna said, tucking her phone into her pocket. "We should get going. Thank you for hiring the Campbell Clan for the smaller struggles in your life, Mr. Petrie," she said, sounding rehearsed.

"Who else? Thank you," he said.

"No problem. Have a nice day, and enjoy those peaches." She smiled, winked, and I followed her out of the backyard and to the family car, which was an old, beat-up van. She got into the driver's seat.