Oranges

Prolouge

Maxx's POV

2 years ago

It was summer and the small town of Cottonwood was at ease. The sun showed through the oak trees and immediately the warmth blanketed my skin.

The woods were quiet and the greenery was aplenty. The grass swayed lightly every few seconds. I continued to sit, subtly looking up at the plethora of colors painted into the scenery.

I smelt the river water below me and peeked over the edge of the concrete bridge too see the rapids desperately shooting over the rocks and shells.

The water slowed as it gave into the smooth current on the other side. It had ended its struggle though the riffs and obstacles and was now in a constant state of swiftly twisting and turning down the river bend.

I sat, feet dangling over the murky waters. I quickly unwrapped an orange popsicle, the kind with two attached together, and smoothly broke it in half. I eased the other one back into the wrapper and set it beside me. You could clearly see the condensation appear so I placed my lips on the frozen orange.

The sticky sweet flavor prickled my tongue. I tried to savor it as long as I could until the sun laced it's icy exterior and the orange juice dripped onto my cargo shorts.

I quickly slurped up the last of the juice from the ice and tilted it back to let the little bit of orange ice left dropped into my mouth. I had a second half that I had broken off and left in the wrapper.

I still tasted the residue of orange on my lips. I ignored it and took out my small camera my mom had got me for my thirteenth birthday, which was about a week ago.

I carefully positioned myself in a kneeling pose as if I was going to propose and I began to take my shots.

I always had a good eye for beautiful things in nature and in general. The colors, details, and the surroundings were what I paid my attention to.

What I loved most was when I found a flower in a bed of weeds and grass, or a shining crystal in the grey rocks. It was unexpected and stood out and the differences were beautiful.

I turned my head and the camera along with it and I stared at the screen and the lens was looking up and a face.

Round bright orbs of smooth turquoise green were apparent in my photo. Dimples showed despite the absence of a smile and the cheeks were tinted with rose. A single tear glided down the clear skin.

I moved down my camera curiously. And saw with my own eyes a stunning boy before me. He was tall, unlike myself and looked young yet fit for his age. I instantly recognized him as a boy a year above me in high school while I was still in 8th grade in junior high school.

I sometimes saw him walking with his friends around the block most of the time they teased me because of my name or my hobbies or whatever was the most relevant that day.

It never really affected me because I knew that once I moved as far away from this close knit small town as I could, I would meet amazing people with aspirations, passions, and a love for people and culture. One day, I think to myself.

This boy never talked or said anything to me, his name was Kody James. He made varsity football as a freshman which my father talked nonstop about. Yet, he still maintained his grades, and kept his social standing without acting like an rambunctious two year old, or an ignorant waste of flesh.