Memories in Jars

Chapter 13

Author's Note: Happy Friday everyone!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! In my opinion it's a fun one, full of laughter and rebellion.  Are you intrigued? Good.  You should be.

Exciting fact! Yesterday I realized that each Thursday I drive past an Ellis Avenue.  So here's to that!

This week's motivation goes to my having finally finished a VERY annoying Classics paper, Sixpence None the Richer, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, and "Bruises" by Train, which is a new favorite song of mine.

Now, I'm off to take a nap.  Please vote, comment, PM me, Follow me, whatever floats your boat.  JUST DON'T BE A SILENT READER!

Love you all!

Kay (dreamer44)

_____________________________________

----- Annabelle -----

            Three weeks.  Only three until Maggie returned home.  The number of days until she came back floated around in my head incessantly like a ticking time bomb.  Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, and on until it exploded inside of me.          

            Today was Wednesday, but I didn’t have to babysit because the family was vacationing in Florida, the lucky ducks.  I was stuck in Reid with nothing but a giant problem to think about all day.

            “Anna,” Leigh barged into my room, pulling my bed covers down off me.  It was nine o’clock, but I had been lying in bed since seven doing nothing but—what else—thinking about my dilemma.

            “Welcome,” I said sarcastically, sitting up and glaring at her.  “Good morning.”

            “I’ve decided that today is a sibling day.  Ian, you, and I are going to go out and do something, and then have a picnic.  Now hurry up; I have to be back before work at three.”

            I grumbled, though it was really for show, and went to the bathroom to shower.  I actually loved hanging out with Leigh and Ian.  We always had fun together, and it was nice to catch up, just like we were best friends.  Somehow, when we were hanging out just the three of us together our dynamic was different than it was at our family dinners each night.

            By the time I made it downstairs, it was close to ten.  Leigh was standing at the counter, packing sandwiches and cans of soda into a cooler lined with icepacks.  She was dressed in jean shorts and a bright red sleeveless shirt, her curly hair loose with a pair of sunglasses perched on her head.  When she saw me walk through the hallway, she called out, “Ian! Let’s go!”  She turned to me.  “We decided to go berry picking before lunch,” she said.  “Apparently the raspberries are really good right now.”

            Ian walked into the kitchen from the living room, and announced, “I’ll drive.”

            “Shotgun!” Leigh yelled, before I could even open my mouth.  She stuck out her tongue at me, picked up the cooler, and walked outside in front of me, grabbing a picnic blanket from the front hall on her way out.

            Car rides with Leigh and Ian were always an event to remember.  Every time, Leigh would crank up the radio way too loudly, and sing at the top of her lungs to whatever was playing.  Ian would roll down the windows and open the sun roof, while shaking his head and chuckling at Leigh.  Sometimes I would join in and sing with Leigh, but for the most part I liked to listen to her voice and look out and the road in front of us through the windshield.