The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves Read Free

kid of medium height, who she’d watched
through the window at school, when he ran on the track below from
where she sat. She had done so many times, while she was in
English, bored out of her mind. She wasn’t sure when she’d taken to
looking at him, and only him, when the boys track team went through
their stretching routines, their warm-ups and finally began the
first of the days’ hard drills. They would do this every day before
the period ended, marking the end of her final period.
    It took her about three
weeks to get the courage to go out and watch the rest of his
practice from the pitiful seven-tiered seats they had the audacity
to call the bleachers. About a week and a half after, he had come
up to her and asked her, through a sideways smirk from the corner
of his mouth, why she watched the team workout.
    She told him, she hadn’t
come down to watch the team, which made him grimace in
confusion.
    He’d asked her why would
she sit in the blazing Arizona heat and risk losing a million brain
cells.
    She replied with the first
overly forward remark she’d ever made to a boy. She told him, she
was out there, in the heat, every day, watching him.
    He had rewarded her by
turning bright crimson right before the directness of her gaze and
the confidence in her tone.
    From then on, they had
been together every spare moment, walking home after his practices,
sitting on the small retaining wall, separating her front yard from
the sidewalk. They had talked and talked about every topic
imaginable, laughing and carrying on over one subject after
another, finding nonchalant ways to touch each other and move
closer. They talked about their dreams and their hopes for the
lives they were just beginning to plan. They spoke of college and
getting jobs, of getting their State I.D.’s and the Driver’s
Licenses that would soon follow. They spent long afternoons on that
retaining wall in front of her house, sometimes until the sun went
down, when Ricardo would be forced to jog home in the
dark.
    Sometimes her mother would
ask him to dinner. Ricardo would call home to see if that was
“okay” with his parents. Other times, her father would ask him,
with fake kindness, if he needed a ride home, of which Ricardo
would accept, but only about half the time. To her, it was like he
was keeping a tally in his head.
    This had gone on for
another two weeks. Until one late afternoon, the harsh Arizona sun
unrelenting upon the landscape, she had walked him to the corner of
her block.
    He had grabbed a hold of
both of her hands, his eyes looking down on her with deep
affection.
    She couldn’t resist. She
had tightened her grip on his hands, stood on her tiptoes, and
moved toward him.
    He didn’t misinterpret her
thoughts or become awkward or ruin the moment in any way. He merely
bent down and kissed her for a long time. Not once, through the
entire four-second contact, did he become forceful or pry her lips
apart with an over eager tongue.
    Instead, he tasted her
lips, savoring the moment with such tenderness. She felt her heart
skip two beats. When they pulled away, she could barely contain her
excitement. He had said goodbye, hugged her quickly, but fiercely,
and left.
    Behind his retreating
form, she had jumped in the air and literally sprinted back to her
house.
    She had come home to the
rest of family celebrating and jumping around as she had moments
ago. Her heart had abruptly filled with dread. Had they seen what
happened - her kissing a boy - and were making fun of her?
    A moment later her thought
proved unfounded.
    She approached her family
as they jumped around in a big circle, hugging and yelling. She was
able to discern something else was going on, but she couldn’t shake
the confusion she felt at seeing their uncanny out-pouring of
joy.
    When her brother David
spied her from the corner of his vision, he broke free and hooted
and hollered. “We’re going to ‘ Tinsel
Town’ , Baby!”
    What?!? her mind raced.
    “