9 Ways Ch.1 Sec. 1
In which Jeanah meets an awkward boy whose name she will not learn for quite a while so she calls him Kid.
Chapter one, Section one
So, I went outside on August 31st, the very last free day I had of summer vacation. That should have been a day for me to chill with all of my new friends and rejoice about the past two wonderful months, except for the fact that I had a job to do.
Half-heartedly, I pierced my shovel into a light layer or snow. It wasn’t that deep yet, but snow is snow and snow is cold and wet and I do not like cold or wet things. I let my shovel remained lodged in the snow after the initial jab. Of course the shovel couldn’t stand by itself so I kept hold of it.
Before we moved to Butte, my parents warned me that it would get cold. Quick. Since we moved to Butte in the beginning of July, I didn’t believe them at first. I started to feel the temperature drop outside around the first week of August. My mom has told me stories before about trick or treating in six inches of snow, but she had never seen it snow in August. My parents took one look out of the window before enlightening me, "Jeanah, we’ve got a job for you to do…"
I don’t think I have ever liked shoveling. Not when I was eight, not when the season is beginning to change and the snow is all slushy and easy to shovel, and especially not when it is snowing in summer. I would have really loved to go back inside and tell my parents that I would shovel later perhaps, but I needed some extra chore money, so I decided to weigh my options.
DO
-Easier for my parents to drive me around
-Extra money for my allowance
-Feeling of self-accomplishment?
DON’T
-Get yelled at
-Have to do it later
Although the "don’t" side was smaller (and I really had to strain myself on that last "do,") I decided that doing the job would be far more beneficial.
----------------
Twenty-minutes later I was still working. I was pretty engrossed in my thoughts at that point, almost to the point where I forgot that I was actually moving and holding a potentially dangerous object. And not to mention the speed at which I was moving. If a normal person would finish shoveling their entire driveway and basketball court in fifteen minutes or so, imagine how long it would take a bored person who had a lot on their mind.
I thought about my anger towards Ohio. I felt like I almost half-way missed it, despite its flaws. In its flaws I saw my friends, and how they always had some crazy insane plan. And then I remembered that their plans were always chock-full of flaws, so it made sense to blame Ohio for being so imperfect because friends usually seem flawless.
Now that I thought about it, I didn’t even think I was mad at my friends. I was mad at Ohio. I blamed Ohio for the bad plan. I blamed Powell, Ohio for me agreeing to go along with the plan. And don’t even get my started on who I thought was to blame for me and my friends getting caught. But I should have known better than to blame a place. The fault was in two people and two people alone. 1. The headmaster at Billington Prep. And 2. The school for hiring that low-life principal. (I know what you’re thinking; the school isn’t a person. But, indeed, it would appear to be so.)
I was too engrossed in my own little world during all of this thinking to even notice the fact that I was trying to take my anger out in my shovel. Apparently, I was trying to boss it around, the way I was flinging it all over the place. I set my shovel up right so that it was standing and I lifted it up slightly from the ground and shoved it with all of my might. I raised my shovel just high enough up off the ground so that it was airborne for a couple seconds, and it flew about three feet away from me. This was about the time that I heard someone behind me breathing hard, almost heaving but they didn’t seem to be moving. I half-way wondered if they were a dog, because dogs are always panting. But, then again, dogs are always moving.
I paused before slowly moving over towards my shovel to pick it up without turning around. I figured if I didn’t look at them, maybe they would go away. But they obviously came for a reason. The only thing was that they wouldn’t talk. I must have stood with my back to the stranger for ten minutes. After the figure seemed to catch its breath, it spoke.
"Uh…" it said. I laughed silently to myself. Great conversation starter, I thought. I stopped laughing and turned around to face them, but when I spoke I might as well have been addressing the ground for all of the eye contact I made.
"Hi… I’m Jeanah." I figured that the least I could do was let some people learn my name, seeing as I was still new to town. After I introduced myself, I looked up to find a teenage boy standing before me. I assumed he was around my age and he had dark brown hair, stood at an average height and had brilliant blue eyes. He also had cherry red lips, almost like he had just eaten a blow pop with too much red dye in it. Either that or he wore lipstick (but I decided that seemed unreasonable). I caught his weary expression and saw that he was eyeing my shovel precariously. I did feel a little pernicious at that point. I mean, I did just shove a shovel.
"Oh," he said. "Um. Hi, I’m…" The thing was that he said his name, I just couldn’t hear him. His voice was pretty quiet now, so I figured that was a contributing factor in the incomprehensible introduction. I tried again.
"I’m sorry?" But I ended with the same results. Most people would have spoken louder and clearer the second time but I would soon realize that this kid was not like most people. I simply nodded after he mumbled his name for the second time. I assumed that he had approached me for some reason, but we were just standing there staring at each other. I figured that if I started a conversation about anything, he could switch the subject to whatever he pleased and that was I could find out what he really wanted. I decided to play dumb.
"Is this normal weather for Butte?" I asked.
"Um…" He said, looking around. "I don’t know…" He almost whispered his response. I guessed making small-talk was not a specialty of Kid’s. I tried to take a different approach.
"It’s crazy that it’s snowing and still August, though." But, Mr. Creep-Up-On-Me-and-Don’t-Talk proved himself to be a terrible conversationalist. After an excruciating thirty seconds of us just staring at the ground, I looked up at him. With all due respect, he did look like he was searching his mind for something to say back to me. Luckily, he started to speak. And thank goodness. I don’t think thirty seconds have ever been elongated to that length in my entire life. If they lasted any long, time might have frozen and I would have been stuck in that awkwardness forever.
So, I went outside on August 31st, the very last free day I had of summer vacation. That should have been a day for me to chill with all of my new friends and rejoice about the past two wonderful months, except for the fact that I had a job to do.
Half-heartedly, I pierced my shovel into a light layer or snow. It wasn’t that deep yet, but snow is snow and snow is cold and wet and I do not like cold or wet things. I let my shovel remained lodged in the snow after the initial jab. Of course the shovel couldn’t stand by itself so I kept hold of it.
Before we moved to Butte, my parents warned me that it would get cold. Quick. Since we moved to Butte in the beginning of July, I didn’t believe them at first. I started to feel the temperature drop outside around the first week of August. My mom has told me stories before about trick or treating in six inches of snow, but she had never seen it snow in August. My parents took one look out of the window before enlightening me, "Jeanah, we’ve got a job for you to do…"
I don’t think I have ever liked shoveling. Not when I was eight, not when the season is beginning to change and the snow is all slushy and easy to shovel, and especially not when it is snowing in summer. I would have really loved to go back inside and tell my parents that I would shovel later perhaps, but I needed some extra chore money, so I decided to weigh my options.
DO
-Easier for my parents to drive me around
-Extra money for my allowance
-Feeling of self-accomplishment?
DON’T
-Get yelled at
-Have to do it later
Although the "don’t" side was smaller (and I really had to strain myself on that last "do,") I decided that doing the job would be far more beneficial.
----------------
Twenty-minutes later I was still working. I was pretty engrossed in my thoughts at that point, almost to the point where I forgot that I was actually moving and holding a potentially dangerous object. And not to mention the speed at which I was moving. If a normal person would finish shoveling their entire driveway and basketball court in fifteen minutes or so, imagine how long it would take a bored person who had a lot on their mind.
I thought about my anger towards Ohio. I felt like I almost half-way missed it, despite its flaws. In its flaws I saw my friends, and how they always had some crazy insane plan. And then I remembered that their plans were always chock-full of flaws, so it made sense to blame Ohio for being so imperfect because friends usually seem flawless.
Now that I thought about it, I didn’t even think I was mad at my friends. I was mad at Ohio. I blamed Ohio for the bad plan. I blamed Powell, Ohio for me agreeing to go along with the plan. And don’t even get my started on who I thought was to blame for me and my friends getting caught. But I should have known better than to blame a place. The fault was in two people and two people alone. 1. The headmaster at Billington Prep. And 2. The school for hiring that low-life principal. (I know what you’re thinking; the school isn’t a person. But, indeed, it would appear to be so.)
I was too engrossed in my own little world during all of this thinking to even notice the fact that I was trying to take my anger out in my shovel. Apparently, I was trying to boss it around, the way I was flinging it all over the place. I set my shovel up right so that it was standing and I lifted it up slightly from the ground and shoved it with all of my might. I raised my shovel just high enough up off the ground so that it was airborne for a couple seconds, and it flew about three feet away from me. This was about the time that I heard someone behind me breathing hard, almost heaving but they didn’t seem to be moving. I half-way wondered if they were a dog, because dogs are always panting. But, then again, dogs are always moving.
I paused before slowly moving over towards my shovel to pick it up without turning around. I figured if I didn’t look at them, maybe they would go away. But they obviously came for a reason. The only thing was that they wouldn’t talk. I must have stood with my back to the stranger for ten minutes. After the figure seemed to catch its breath, it spoke.
"Uh…" it said. I laughed silently to myself. Great conversation starter, I thought. I stopped laughing and turned around to face them, but when I spoke I might as well have been addressing the ground for all of the eye contact I made.
"Hi… I’m Jeanah." I figured that the least I could do was let some people learn my name, seeing as I was still new to town. After I introduced myself, I looked up to find a teenage boy standing before me. I assumed he was around my age and he had dark brown hair, stood at an average height and had brilliant blue eyes. He also had cherry red lips, almost like he had just eaten a blow pop with too much red dye in it. Either that or he wore lipstick (but I decided that seemed unreasonable). I caught his weary expression and saw that he was eyeing my shovel precariously. I did feel a little pernicious at that point. I mean, I did just shove a shovel.
"Oh," he said. "Um. Hi, I’m…" The thing was that he said his name, I just couldn’t hear him. His voice was pretty quiet now, so I figured that was a contributing factor in the incomprehensible introduction. I tried again.
"I’m sorry?" But I ended with the same results. Most people would have spoken louder and clearer the second time but I would soon realize that this kid was not like most people. I simply nodded after he mumbled his name for the second time. I assumed that he had approached me for some reason, but we were just standing there staring at each other. I figured that if I started a conversation about anything, he could switch the subject to whatever he pleased and that was I could find out what he really wanted. I decided to play dumb.
"Is this normal weather for Butte?" I asked.
"Um…" He said, looking around. "I don’t know…" He almost whispered his response. I guessed making small-talk was not a specialty of Kid’s. I tried to take a different approach.
"It’s crazy that it’s snowing and still August, though." But, Mr. Creep-Up-On-Me-and-Don’t-Talk proved himself to be a terrible conversationalist. After an excruciating thirty seconds of us just staring at the ground, I looked up at him. With all due respect, he did look like he was searching his mind for something to say back to me. Luckily, he started to speak. And thank goodness. I don’t think thirty seconds have ever been elongated to that length in my entire life. If they lasted any long, time might have frozen and I would have been stuck in that awkwardness forever.
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