𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 ━ shawn hunter¹

7│GRANDMA WAS A ROLLING STONE

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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴍᴀ ᴡᴀs ᴀ
ʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ sᴛᴏɴᴇ ꒱


❝ AH, YOUNG LOVE ❞

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Juliet leaned against Cory's fence as her two best friends picked snails off of Mr. Feeny's plants. She'd told them that fish didn't eat snails but since she wasn't a 'voice of authority' as Cory had put it, they didn't listen. Mr. Matthews came out to join them. "Hey guys, collecting snails?"

"Yeah, Mr. Feeny said we could take 'em off his flowers and use them for bait when we all go fishing Sunday," Cory explained.

His father looked at the older man. "Fish don't eat snails."

"I love being right," Juliet said, earning eyerolls from the two boys.

Mr. Feeny gave him a smile. "Gee, guess I was mistaken."

"Well, whenever you guys are ready the bass master here is all set to pass on to the younger generation some of the finer points of casting," Mr. Matthews said.

Cory turned to their teacher. "Manipulating young, impressionable minds. I hope you're proud of yourself Mr. Feeny."

"Indeed I am Mr. Matthews."

"You were asking for it," Juliet told the boy.

"No one likes a know-it-all, Juliet," Cory answered sarcastically.

"Come on, guys," Mr. Matthews interrupted them. Shawn and Cory jumped back over the fence as the redhead walked up to the older man. "Now, the main thing to remember is that it's basically a simple flick of the wrist. You open the bail, hold the line with your finger and then it's two o'clock, ten o'clock."

He demonstrated only to catch one of Mr. Feeny's pots.

"Kind of a quarter after three thing you've got going on there huh, dad?" Cory asked.

"May a, uh, fellow angler try his luck?" Mr. Feeny asked.

The dark-haired man handed it to him. "Be my guest, George."

"Thank you," he said before he aimed and scored. He smiled at them. "It's like getting back on a bicycle. One never forgets."

"Mr. Feeny, you fish?" Cory asked.

"Oh, sure. I'm an old bass hog from way back," he answered. "I'll never forget that September morn in 1956. I was after a small-mouth bass in the Louisiana Delta—"

"Sounds fascinating, George," Mr. Matthews interrupted him.

Juliet frowned; she thought that Mr. Feeny was actually a good story teller.

"Spanish moss hanging down and Cypress knees jutting up through the brackish water of the bayou—"

"Sounds fascinating, George."

She looked at Mr. Matthews with wide eyes. "It does," the girl protested.

Mr. Feeny smiled at her. "And this is why you have potential." He pointed to the two boys and older man. "You three could learn from her."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Don't encourage him, Julie. He'll think this is History class!"

🌎🌎🌎

Juliet and Shawn met Mr. Matthews at the docks. The man explained that Cory wasn't there because he had plans with his grandma but that the three of them could still go. The boat was older and weathered but well-built so it didn't leak. There was a strong, fishy smell and the nets and tools on the deck had obvious wear to them. As they climbed in, Mr. Matthews went first, then Shawn, who turned and offered his hand to the red-haired girl who took it gratefully. The boat rocked only slightly as she jumped down to the floor.