8
HUDSON
IN THE DRIVEWAY OF MY HOME, I was hard at work on my beloved motorcycle. The magnificent colors of fall painted the neighborhood with shades of gold, crimson, and amber. I sighed in relief as the crisp air cooled me down.The bracing snow had melted, giving us respite from the chill.
With my sleeves rolled up and a wrench in my hand, I leaned over the sleek machine, my brow furrowed in concentration. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the pavement as I worked.
The soft hum of the neighborhood was a gentle backdrop to my tinkering. I could hear the distant sounds of lawnmowers and children's laughter. I would wipe the sweat from my brow or take a sip from the can of Red Bull beside me.
"Hudson, sweetie, I brought you something."
My head raised at the familiar voice. A bright grin spread on my face at the sight of Mrs. Delgato. I set down my tools, wiped my hands on the rag in my pocket, and bounded over to greet her.
"Hey, Mrs. Delgato," I said, my eyes lit up with genuine delight. "Please tell me that's your famous apple pie?"
She chuckled; her eyes twinkled with affection as she handed me the dessert.
"I was baking and realized you would never forgive me if I never baked you one."
My heart warmed with kindness at her words.
"You're the best."
Ever since my mom passed away, Mrs. Delgato doted on me. I appreciated it, but it always made me miss my mom more. However, her heart was always in the right place.
"Any news from colleges?"
I shifted; my gaze drifted to my tattered Vans.
"I'm still waiting to hear from a few schools."
She studied my face for a moment.
"I know you're going to get a lot of offers." She said. "You've always been so smart. Just like your mother."
As she continued to rant about her times at college, I couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at me. I knew I should tell her the truth, but I couldn't bear disappointing her - or my father, so I remained silent. Mrs. Delgato had been a second mother to me my entire life and I would deal with the consequences when they came.
?
In the dimly lit classroom of the Economics class, the late morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. The air was heavy with the smell of chalk and paper, and the inaudible murmur of conversation filled the room as students chatted amongst themselves.
In the back of the classroom, I slouched in my seat, my arms crossed over my chest as I gazed out the window. I watched as the branches of the nearby trees swayed in the breeze.
With each passing minute, anticipation and tension grew in the room. I drummed my fingers on the desk. My mind raced with a million different thoughts.
The teacher entered, and silence filled the room as everyone looked at him. With a brisk nod, he began the lesson, his voice filling the room as he outlined the day's assignment.
"Today, you will work in pairs." he said, handing out the stack of papers.
As he began assigning partners, I listened with half-hearted attention, my mind drifting. But then, my ears perked up as I heard my name called out.
"Hudson, you're with Maya."
Our eyes met, and I sensed her hesitation, even from afar. As the class dispersed to begin their work, I approached the table beside Maya. We exchanged awkward glances and hesitant smiles.
"It's been a while, St. James." I said, dropping my jacket over the seat behind me.
"There's a reason for that."
I'd forgotten she never had a filter. I respected that.
"Want to get this over with?" I asked, holding back a grin.
She shrugged.
"I guess so."
As we worked on the project, an awkward silence settled between us. I'd never been one for uncomfortable tension.
"Do you still collect those weird dolls?" I asked, causing her to pause writing her notes.
"What?"
"Those Chucky-looking dolls you had on your shelves?"
Despite her best efforts, she couldn't hold back a smile.
"No," she said. "I realized they were creepy."
I chuckled at the memory of Luna's refusal to enter her room until the dolls faced away.
"I tried to tell you." I shrugged. "At least you came to your senses."
"Says the guy that would only wear blue for a year."
I folded my arms across my chest and kicked my legs forward.
"It's still my favorite color."
She grinned, but it faded as fast as it appeared. As if she remembered she was supposed to despise me.
"Let's just get back to work."
I tilted my chin upward.
"It's okay, St. James, you can admit it."
She glanced at me over her shoulder.
"Admit what?"
"You forgot how entertaining I can be."
She scoffed and turned back around, directing her attention to the paper on her table, but I saw a hint of a grin on her lips.Just like old times.
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