DAY 22 of the Flashnano Challenge. Flashnano is a challenge that involves writing 30 stories in 30 days throughout the month of November. A new writing prompt every day. As a reminder, at this stage I don’t edit these it’s simply raw, off the top of my head writing. Later, I’ll go through any that have potential and edit them. Thanks for reading.
PROMPT 22: Write a childhood story that you’ve never written before
There are so many things about my childhood I simply don’t remember. Time and age will do that to you. But what I do remember is my first love. I remember the exact moment I left part of my childhood behind and discovered the wonderfulness of boys. I always liked them, I was a tomboy myself. I liked to punch them, race them and play baseball in the streets with them. Outside of that though, I wasn’t sure what they were good for – until Scotty.
I was twelve years old, and played the flute in the junior high school band. I was atrocious. I practiced and practiced, but was simply not that good. I spent a lot of time fake playing during rehearsals so I wouldn’t ruin the endless repeats of “The Blue Danube”.
Then one day our band teacher said the band from the nearby junior high school was coming over to play with us. We were all excited for something new.
Soon after the new kids began shuffling in and took seats in their instrument sections. Brass here. Woodwinds there. Drummers in the back and so on. The room had a combustible, exciting energy.
My flute section sat directly across from the trumpet section and I noticed him the second he sat down. He was wearing a green t-shirt, Levi’s and white Vans sneakers. He had a messy mop of blonde hair. His skin was tan which gave him a golden hue or it appeared golden through the stars in my eyes – either way this boy was golden. But the thing that knocked my socks off was he had a slight overbite. Ever so slight, but that overbite did my young heart in.
He was the best trumpet player in the group and the teacher fawned over him and often had him play solos. He’d tell the band to stop and say, “Scotty, play that part again”. My teenage brain burned his name into my memory never to leave.
I couldn’t stop staring at him, to the point where he finally looked at me and half smiled. I was done. That half smile and little overbite told me boys were good for more than just punching and sports. The band practice was mostly forgettable, we played the same songs over and over again, I mostly faked it, but with a bit more gusto in case he looked over at me. Every so often he did and I could feel my cheeks burn hot. This was all new to me, but I knew in that moment I was in love like only a young girl can be – full of imagined angst and drama.
Then it was over and they packed up their instruments to leave. I casually began circling him like a shark. An awkward, lovestruck shark. As he headed toward the door with the rest of his group I stood near the chair he’d just left and stared. He glanced back, said something to his friends and came back. He looked around his chair, then under it as I stood there unable to move.
Then he straightened up, looked directly at me and said, “What’s your name?” My heart stopped beating, I wasn’t breathing, but I managed to say, “Jody”. He half smiled again, nodded and walked away to join his group. I stood there and watched him leave. Someone began playing “The Blue Danube” on a clarinet in the back of the room and at that moment while the wistful clarinet serenaded I fell in love for the very first time.