Free My Blue River by Leslie Trammell Page A

asked.
     
    “Nothing,” mused Claire.
     
    “Seriously. What?”
     
    “I think you’re holding back. I think you just might consider everything about him stimulating. You’re blushing and you can’t take your eyes off him.”
     
    “Neither can I,” chimed Sallie. She was looking at Jack adoringly and yet from the other side of the room, Zeek was staring the exact same way at Sallie.
     
    “No, trust me. We’re just friends . In fact, we established that fact just yesterday.”
     
    “Really?” Sallie’s voice raised an octave in complete hope that I was telling the truth.
     
    Claire shook her head at Sallie as if to say, “Forget it, sister.” She leaned closer to me and said, “By the way, he can’t keep his eyes off you, either.”
     
    Sallie’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Claire mouthed “I’m sorry” to her. I couldn’t help it. A smile stole my lips.
     
     
     
     

6. Daydreamer
     
    By the first of August, I had reached my limits for hard labor. I was tired of painting, scraping, repairing, gardening, and everything else that had been asked of me. Whether my parents liked it or not, I was taking the day off.
     
    As usual, Jack was at our house working. I would say he was pretty much a permanent fixture at this point. I was on the porch swing with my camera—and my zoom lens. I knew exactly what I was up to.
     
    I settled into the swing and tried to look as though I wasn’t up to anything naughty, but in all reality, I was plotting a covert operation. Jack and Dad were planting trees. I marveled at how Jack moved and how hard he worked. I felt a twinge of guilt for what I was about to do, but I didn’t move from my spot on the swing. I wished I had his energy and his enthusiasm for this type of work but I didn’t. It just wasn’t me.
     
    Just as a quiet summer breeze floated by, I found my thoughts drifting not just to Jack, but to the idea of me and Jack. I watched him work as if he were a magician. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He put both hands at the belly of his shirt and began to lift it— yes! I snapped a couple of photos. Thank you zoom lens! Wait a minute, no, false alarm—he was wiping the sweat from his face. I continued to watch, hoping for what his next move might be.
     
    I looked up again and this time he was grinning. He threw his head back in an exaggerated laughter at something my dad had said. Quit trying to impress him; he already thinks you’re the best . I snapped a few more shots of him laughing.
     
    He began to lift his shirt again. Please, please…yes! He took it off! The display of the sweat dripping off of his chiseled chest was wonderful. I felt flush as he stole a glance in my direction; he smirked and I let out a gasp. How arrogant! He knew I was watching. Now I feel stupid . I quickly tucked the camera behind my back. If he knew I had a camera I would never be able to live it down.
     
    I laid my head back against the swing, closed my eyes and focused on my surroundings. I inhaled deeply, contemplating each scent. I knew the familiarity of my Coppertone sun block but the scents of the yard were new. The yard was dotted with lilac and rose bushes. Every once in a while a breeze would throw a floral scent my way. It was pleasant. I loved roses and was developing an affinity for lilacs. Just a couple of months ago I found fresh air to be overrated; I now found it intoxicating. I picked up the scent of pine trees, and a multitude of wildflowers I couldn’t even begin to identify. The nearby hay and alfalfa fields weren’t as irritating as I once found them to be.
     
    I turned my attention to the sounds around me. I heard birds, bees, the bug zapper, the occasional moo of a cow, and the crow of a rooster. In Blue River, we didn’t have an automatic sprinkler system. We set and moved our own sprinkler lines. I listened; the sprinkler had a rhythmic, ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch—then a rapid firing of chchchchchchchch, and back again,