Doing it my way
John Pustulka
Doing it my way
By John Pustulka
Copyright 2013 John Pustulka
Doing It My Way
John Pustulka
June 14th
09:30 am
The carnival comes again! As usual, merry, merry, merry!
As Steven approached the fence, he noticed Sheila standing by herself, observing the raising of the giant double ferris wheel, which seemed to be the centerpiece of the carnival. Steven thought to himself, 'Well, now is your chance, boy. She's just standing there by herself. Go and say hello. Go, go!' He had had his eye on her for over a year now, but had no idea on how to strike up a conversation.
He casually strolled up next to her. "Errmm.., hello, Sheila."
She seemed lost for a while and looked at him suspiciously. "Hi."
"Well, err.., have you ever ridden on that ferris wheel before?"
"Nope." That respond did not sound promising.
"Well, if you'd like, we can have a ride on that thing together next week," Steven smiled at her, and mentally crossed his fingers.
At the same time, elsewhere around the fence, four good friends were having a good time. were now hanging out with each other on the weekend. Three of them, Phoebe, Betty and Trish had been fast friends for over a year. The fourth, Rita, was new to Alamanda middle school this year, but she seemed to mingle easily with her new friends. The four of them always stood out, not just because they were stunningly beautiful, but because they were also dressed fashionably different from the rest. or just overly sophisticated.
"Hello girls!"
It was Felix, another guy who stood apart from other students in the school for various reasons. He was a year older than the girls, in the 9th grade, and quite big for his age. Short haired and rather muscular, he was a textbook example of the macho guy that all too many girls found attractive. Much to the chagrin of her more level headed friends, Phoebe Richardson appeared to be one of those girls.
"Hi Felix," She walked up and casually put her arm around him, while Betty and Trish just smiled half-heartedly.
"If you girls meet me at the carnival next Sunday, I'll win you all the stuffed bears. Mark my words!"
Phoebe giggled foolishly. Trish and Betty smiled and rolled their eyes to the heaven, while Rita just stared at him blankly. She didn't really know him like the others, and wasn't aware of the fact that he came from a family that was literally wealthy enough to buy the whole fair, thus his humour was completely lost on her.
"Hello, do I know you?" Felix looked right back at her.
"Felix, this is Rita Hammond...Rita, meet Felix Arnold." Said Phoebe.
Rita studied his face for a moment. "You're the guy who rides in that big limousine every morning, aren't you?"
"Yup!" Felix proudly proclaimed, assuming that it would impress her as much as it did Phoebe.
Alamanda Town is a middle class hillside community, nestled at the foot of the Hurlock, a mountain range with many unpaved paths. It was from a section of this path that widened slightly, that Ian was perched on his bike, observing the fairground construction with binoculars.
BAM! He was suddenly knocked off his bike, and hit the ground hard. He was so engrossed with his binoculars, that he took no notice of the four guys, three of which were now pinning him face down in the dirt.
"Enjoying the view, dude?"
Ian instantly recognized the voice. He struggled to respond, as whoever was on top of him was nearly strangling him. "Becker, did you actually follow me here?"
"No, we were just hiking and noticed a cowboy on his majestic horse, and decided to strangle him."
Ian thought fast. "Becker," he huffed, "Are you really so weak that you can't beat me up yourself?" Surprisingly enough, this actually worked.
"Let him up, I'll take it from here," The other three guys moved over. Ian got up warily and tried to compose himself. Although he knew he was no match for Becker in a fight, at least now he could breathe and think. Becker just glared at him furiously, as if he were daring him to throw the first punch. Remarkably, the binoculars were still hanging around Ian's neck. He was seriously considering using them as a weapon, when everyone heard a slight rustling noise coming from up the path. It was the sound of mountain bikers. Instinctively, Ian began yelling for help. Although the chances of complete strangers coming to his aid was remote at best, it was at least enough of a threat to cause the four guys that were harassing him to temporarily back off. Three muscular adults on mountain bikes rounded the bend, and stopped. "Is something wrong here? We heard someone yelling for help."
"Not anymore! Thanks!" Ian quickly picked his own bike up out of the dirt and immediately started gliding down the hillside, followed by the three mountain bikers. This time, he had managed to cheat death, or at least serious injury.
10:30 am
Ian arrived home in one piece.
"Mom's not going to like it when she sees that hole in your jeans," warned his younger sister Mabel.
The exhausted youth was in no mood to pay much attention. He went straight to his room, put on some fresh clothes, and fell back on his bed. Later that afternoon, there would be a girl's softball game at the park near the school, and he wanted to get some good rest before attending. The main object of his daydreams was the star pitcher.
1:32 pm
Alamanda Park was located just around the corner from the school. The baseball field always seemed to be in use. On Sunday afternoons, it was taken over by the local girls’ softball league. Rita was one of, if not the most valuable player on her team. When she was up at batting, the opposing team's outfielders instinctively backed up. She was well known for her strength and accuracy. Ian arrived in the middle of the second inning. He chose to remain seated on his bike. From his strategic point near first base, he could make out a few familiar faces from school, sitting in the bleachers. Among them was Phoebe, who shot him back an angry glance. Ian ignored her, and kept his eye on home plate. Rita was up. Even in a weird fitting baseball uniform, she was perfection incarnate. Everybody knew about her, and usually tried to deliberately walk her. This is why Ian chose his spot near first base.
After two pitches that were so far outside that the catcher actually had to move a bit to the right to catch them, Rita was visibly annoyed. She decided that she was going to swing at the third one, even if it missed the batter's box. She did, and it flew over the left fielder's head. Not quite out of the park, but a solid 2nd base hit! Although she probably didn't notice the kid with dirty blonde hair who was cheering her on as she passed first, Ian pretended she did. This was the sort of daydreaming that kept his grades remarkably low in school, but held his precarious sanity in place at night.
4:35 pm: Rita's House.
After the game was over, she entered the front door, and almost bumped into a new piece of furniture she wasn't expecting.
"Whoa, what's this?" She asked, eyeing the tall, dark brown imposing object.
"A very distant cousin who you've never met just died," answered her mother. "For some reason, he decided to leave us this old grandfather clock. Isn’t it something?"
"There's already a beautiful clock on the wall. If you ask me, all this thing is just taking up precious space." As usual, Rita was being practical.
"You're probably right," her mother seemed to agree. "But we'll wait 'til you father gets home, before we decide what to do with it."
Rita's father had just left on a business trip the previous day. The family owned a small nearby eatery, and he was considering the option of investing in another one in Vanderlitz, where most of his side of the family l
ived. He was there, checking out the facilities, as well as visiting his relatives.
June16th
Alamanda Middle School has somehow managed to have a minimum amount of the problems usually associated with schools that are part of large metropolitan areas. There is very little if any drug culture, racial conflicts or vandalism. What the school does have a lot of, however, is judgementalism on the part of both the students and the teachers. If one is not doing well academically, the word spreads fast among the teachers, and ostracism is inevitable.
Nobody is more aware of this than Ian Clancy, a well meaning 8th grader who has a lot of trouble getting his act together. A perfect example of a good person who is not really a good student.
He wasn't at all handsome in the traditional way, nor was he a complete disaster. About average height for his age, with a head of dirty blond hair that always seemed to be uncombing itself. He was the sort of person who under normal circumstances, would easily fade into a crowd. Not particularly muscular, he was somewhat better at English and computer sciences, in which he managed to squeak by with Bs and Cs, but he still narrowly missed having to repeat the 7th grade.
Like most boys of his age, girls were the major distraction. Ian had a much harder time hiding this fact than others. His unfortunate liking for occasionally gazing at a girl he found
