Sehven
May 2001
It's very hot!
My mama was in the front yard loading up our things into her little red car. "We got to leave, little girl" was all she had said this morning and I had no choice but to come with her. Daddy wasn't home again, but I figured he wouldn't be.
The last week had been a long one.
Mom and Dad were arguing every day, it was my last week of school. I was currently in the fourth grade and summer time was approaching. Yet, my last week had been trouble. From being dropped off late every day and picked up even later. My teachers were starting to ask questions, but I knew better than to let them know what was going on.
Sneaking off to the backyard, I picked out my letter from the pocket of my favorite jean skirt. I read over it one more time before quickly picking my spot near the oak tree which we shared with the neighboring house.
The home was still empty and had been for almost two years now. I remembered the little boy that used to live there, but my Dad said something "terrible happened there" and the little boy had to start a new life. I honestly expected to see him again. Maybe when he came to get all his toys. I couldn't imagine leaving all my Bratz doll behind forever, especially two years ago. I was even more in love with them then, than I am now. But it hadn't happened yet and after today, it never will. I still hope he's okay.
The details of my letter include him but without a name. He was truly a "hotheaded" as my Granny likes to call some of the boys at my school.
Once it was buried, I turned to face my home. Mama and Granny Jo were still loading up things and I decided to wander off a little more before I was forced to leave.
By the time I made it to the other side of the yard, I heard someone walking up behind me. I was indeed on the other family's property by now and to say I was nervous was an understatement. I shouldn't be here.
"Sehven..."
Uh-oh.
He appeared like a fallen Angel out of the air.
I always realize he was a bigger kid than me, but right now it was more apparent.
"Hi."
His face still looked the same; the scar above his eye was still noticeable. But clearly it had healed since the last time we were this close. He was taller, just a few inches though. Or maybe the same height and I'm just now noticing. He definitely was a teenager.
I couldn't wait to be a teenager!
"Whatcha doin' ova' here?" I shrugged at his question nervously, sidestepping so I wasn't directly in front of him. He had a very intense stare. Or maybe I wasn't used to looking people in the eyes, yet he seemed so comfortable.
"I was just walking. Are you okay?" I'm not sure why I asked. Maybe because the last time I saw him he was hurt badly and sad. I never expected to see him again. I bid him a "be safe" farewell that night because I didn't know what'll happen afterwards. From the looks of things, he wasn't in a bad predicament.
Dressed in a Nike tracksuit and a pair of Reebok Question sneakers by Allen Iverson, he seemed "well put together" as my Granny Jo would describe it. My Dad had many pairs of those sneakers himself. My mama always teased him about the shoes.
When they were on better terms.
"I'm good. Thanks," He took a glance in the direction of the front yard. "You leaving?"
