Six Feet Apart

Chapter 1

I slam my phone down on the bed and press my palms to my face. I'm so bored. Today I already played piano, rode my bike, painted, watched Harry Potter for the five hundredth time, and spent too much time on my phone. What is there left to do? I pick up my phone again and FaceTime Cassidy. No response. I sit there lost in thought for a minute, staring out the open window at the late afternoon scene of the front yard.

A golden light is glittering through the trees, landing as patterns on the pavement. The grass, in dire need of a mowing, rustles softly as the breeze shifts through it. The budding leaves on the trees hint at the soon emergence of summer. I come back to myself and glance across the room at my crammed bookshelf. Every inch of it is packed with literature, bursting with childhood favorites of Rowling and Dahl and old classics like Austen and Bronte. It is full to the point where additional books are stacked on the top of the shelf that didn't fit on the normal shelves.

I walk across the room and sit in my leather stool by the shelf, running my hands over the etched decoration occurring on each side of the wood, feeling the pattern of vines and flowers down the sides, recalling the first time I saw the chair. It was in a quaint thrift shop downtown, sitting there on display. The moment I saw it I knew it was meant for me. I remember rushing to the cash register and bringing it home. I had walked into my room and quickly decided it belonged next to my bookshelf, as their identical deep oak prophesied their belonging for each other. Since then, it has fulfilled its purpose, serving as a spot for me to read for hours on end. I love it, but right now the outdoors are calling me. I grab Pride and Prejudice and my huge colorful blanket and head outside.

Once I get outside, I select the tall weeping willow as the perfect place to spread my quilt and relax. I sprawl out on it and open up the book. I breathe in deeply, taking in the scent of the old yellowing pages mixed with the newly blooming flowers and enjoy the moment for a second before diving into my reading.

About an hour passes, and I am pulled out of Netherfield Park by the sound of a basketball striking a driveway. I look up from my book to the source of the noise and see that my neighbor has come out from his house and begun shooting hoops.

An older couple used to live in the residence, and I had a special bond with the wife. I would bake her cookies with my mother and leave them on her doorstep and we'd often spend the afternoon reading together. When her husband died, she was moved into a care facility, and she sold her house to another family from Oregon. All of her children and grandchildren live out of state, so I am her most frequent visitor, and now that I can drive, I can visit her even more than I used to be able to. Well, until the quarantine that is.

When the coronavirus started in China in January, no one thought that it would have much of an impact. But then in February it started to spread more rapidly to other countries and continents. It became so serious so quickly that schools all over the nation began to close down to prevent further spread of the virus. My school closed just over a month ago in late March, and since then we've been doing online school and trying not to lose our minds to boredom, myself included.

I look up at the boy. He runs his delicate fingers through his warm ginger hair and it lands in unruly waves around his face. Though I can't see the shade of his eyes, I see that they sparkle as he squints, the light of the amber rays from the sinking sun piercing them. He notices me eyeing him and we make eye contact for a moment and then I look away. Feeling my cheeks turn rosy, I face the opposite direction and resume my reading. Man that was awkward. After a few more minutes of trying to stop feeling uncomfortable and get my mind off of the recent occurrences, I decide it's useless and head back indoors.

That night, I mentally run through the events of the afternoon. Why didn't I just make it less awkward by saying something? Goodness knows I could use some social interaction right now. I go to sleep determined to talk to him tomorrow.