So after watching Bridge to Terabithia, (2007 film), my insides still writhe with sadness and that oh-so-familiar 'that's not fair!' feeling, there's a deep pit in my stomach, and overall, I feel like burying my face burying my face in apillow and screaming into it while kicking my feet and pounding my fists like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
Yeah. I was that moved.
Me and my little sister were all like, " Oh, yay! It's like Narnia! But with Josh Hutcherson!"
The movie was cute, and spirited, and awesome...
Then it was like BAM!; Leslie's dead. Drowned in the creek, bro.
The part that got me the worst was when Jess says, " Next time, we should invite Leslie. She'd like that."
I was practically wallowing; the poor boy's in denial over his loss! The fictional boy and his fictional loss! Its heartbreaking!
Then my little sister gave me the deadpan look and said, " It's just a movie, it's not real, stop crying!" Which prompted me to reply with a watery, whiney, and ever so witty, " Shut up!"
So now I feel all empty, and I'm writing this to put a little cheer and happy-ending-feel back into my hollow chest.
Well thats the end of this rant. Here's to a beautiful, bittersweet movie, enjoy.
A slender, tanned girl with messy brown hair, wearing baggy, hand-me-down boys' clothes boarded her bus alone, walking down the aisle to an empty seat.
That's Lou Greenbriar, the most isolated sixth grader in Lark Creek.
Lou was most definitely one of those mysterious, closed off loners, partly because she didn't want to participate with the other mean, cranky, pubescent children, and partly because nobody would be caught dead doing anything other than insulting " Lou-ser the Farm Girl".
A sneaker-clad foot shot out suddenly, making Lou stumble and fall, skinning her hands and knees.
" Have a nice trip?" Wen Hayes taunted above her.
" I'm surprised you could afford it, farm girl." His crony, Andy Rusher guffawed.
The whole bus shook with raucous laughter. Lou forced her face to remain impassive, though her freckled cheeks flushed brightly, and plopped down in her seat, staring fixedly out the window.
Dumb bus driver doesn't notice anything. She thought as she rolled her eyes.
But Lou was fine, so what if she got picked on? So what if she didn't have any friends? She had thick skin and stiff upper lip, that was all she needed.
You didn't survive in a household of five bigger, and apparently better, brothers and a somewhat neglectful, distant father by being some wussy, oversensitive girly-girl.
The bus jolted as it hit a pothole, and Lou absentmindedly burrowed further into the seat and tightened her hands around her backpack to avoid falling out. Stupid, slippery leather seat.
Tap-ta-tap-ta-tap-tap-tap, Lou hit her knuckles against the window rhythmically.
Hm, hmm, hm, hm, she hummed under her breath.
She snapped her fingers quietly, smiling at the sounds.
Lou quickly wiped it off of her face.
Head out of the the clouds. She reminded herself.
It didn't work.
The tune still bounced around in her mind, screaming to be let out.
Okay, so Lou had a little secret; she loved music.
She loved to see it, hear it, make it.
Music, music, music.
She loved to stomp her feet and clap her hands, she loved to dig out her mom's old CDs and listen to them at volumes that would burst most people's eardrums, when no one was home.
Music, music, music.
Over the years, she'd taught herself how to play a few instruments, guitar, drums, piano.
But it wasn't as if it was going to get her anywhere though.
That's how it is here in this tiny town, if you're lucky enough to get into college, you scramble the heck out of Dodge and have a career, and if not, you do whatever job your parents did before you.
And you certainly could not make a living with a stupid, schoolgirl fascination with "worthless noise".
Her father had reminded her of that all too often.
Still, she couldn't help that she had a musician's mind, the urge to strum a guitar was constant, the desire to dance her fingers over piano keys was unquenchable.
Oh well, no one would know that she even had any musical talent at all anyway, nobody would ever suspect that a farm girl could actually be anything other than, well, a farm girl.
Dumb clichés.
The bus halted with an unpleasant screech, and Lou clambered to stand and make her way out the folding door, this time cleverly avoiding the Wen's foot.
" See you," Lou mumbled to driver.
The huge vehicle pulled away with another squeal and Lou moped her way down the road to her house.
Lou's home was a small, two story building, painted a faded blue color.
The outside was surrounded by two flower gardens, a cow pen, a henhouse, and a greenhouse.
Inside, it was cramped and rather cluttered.
Downstairs, there was a tiny living room with two mismatched couches, an old recliner, and a little T.V.
Adjacent to living room, was the kitchen and eating area which included a wooden table and eight chairs. One was always empty.
Upstairs, there were four bedrooms; one for Lou's father, two for her brothers, three in each, and one for Lou.
The rooms were small, each painted with some ugly grey-yellow color that reminded Lou something of a boiled egg yolk.
And they all shared one bathroom. What fun.
Lou approached the screen door, her indifferent expression firmly in place, and stepped into the house.
" Hey, Lou," her oldest brother, Harper, called from the kitchen table.
" Hi." she replied neutrally.
Harper was something like a surrogate mother, as theirs had died a long time ago. He did the cooking and washing, making sure everyone else was taken care of before he took care of himself.
At the moment, Harper was filling out college applications. He was the brightest senior in Lark Creek High, and was applying to several colleges.
And the whole family knew what that meant.
When he left, the entire family would spiral into an unorganized, unwashed, unhappy doom.
Not that they were far away from it now.
" Hi, Little Lou," the sixteen year old twins, Ronny and Ray shouted from the living room, absorbed in the television.
Ronny and Ray were the mischievous type, cracking jokes everywhere, always playing pranks at school.
No one seemed to mind, no, they were quite popular for it.
" Hey," she answered, ignoring their much despised nickname for her and snagging an apple from the counter and taking a large bite.
" Where's Dad?" Lou wondered, her words slurred due to her full mouth.
" Still at work," said Mike, the fifteen year old in the family, walking in from the backdoor, a basketball tucked under his right arm and Terry in tow, a fourteen year old freshman. They were each stars of the high school's basketball team, beloved and admired.
Lou nodded idly, unsurprised.
Their father worked very long hours at the auto repair shop.
She started to trudge up the stairs, grunting when Harper told her that dinner would be ready soon.
She shut the door to her room, collapsing onto her bed with a groan, pulling out her music book.
Lou's music book was where she emptied the melodies that got stuck in her brain. Hundreds of sheets of paper were filled with assorted musical compositions.
She took it everywhere, it was important to her.
It was also very private. If you looked inside without permission, you would most likely be sucker-punched in the nose.
Or anywhere really, she wasn't fussy where she hit you.
Lou examined the pages covered in her messy scrawl, looking for something to occupy her.
She glanced at her watch absently, then did a double take, and shot up as she realized she was late for 'work'.
She bounded down the stairs, grabbing her sweatshirt and yanking on her shoes in record time, only pausing to glare when Ronny smirked, " Tardy again, Little Lou?"
She ran out the door without any other reply.
Geez, if she kept being late like this, Mr. Aarons might not let her keep this gig.
Her family weren't the only farmers in town, old Mr. Aarons was one too, and Lou made extra money by helping him out after school.
Little, everyday chores, like raking leaves, taking out garbage, whatever.
Lou dashed down the street, recognizing the dirt road at once, wincing as she saw her 'employer' standing, waiting, on the porch.
" You're late again, Lou," he chuckled.
" Yes sir, I'm sorry, I got, um..." She gulped air awkwardly. "...sidetracked."
" S'alright." Mr. Aarons smiled, handing her a rake that was taller than her.
Lou began to do the task, a deep frown etching its way across her face.
" Everything okay?" Mr. Aarons asked after a bit.
" Fine," Lou answered distractedly, shaking a few caught leaves out of the rake's comb.
" Lou." Mr. Aarons said sternly.
" Yes sir?"
" Come inside." He requested.
She leaned the rake on a tree and followed him in.
He led her to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at the table. " Want a cookie?" He asked, offering her an Oreo. She took it with a gruff, "Thanks."
" Do you live here all by yourself, sir?" Lou asked after a beat, looking around the house.
" Yeah," Mr. Aarons nodded.
" No wife? Or kids?" Lou tilted her head.
" No," a smile graced his face.
" Hm. Not even a girlfriend?" She grinned too.
" I want to show you something," Mr. Aarons dodged her question, and led her to his living room.
He gestured to a wall, where there was a large photograph of an eleven year old girl with short blonde hair and a happy grin, her clothes fluorescent and mismatched.
" Hey..." Lou raised an eyebrow. " That's Leslie Burke, right?"
Mr. Aarons nodded sadly.
" She died a long time ago, though, didn't she? There's a tree in her memory at my school." Lou recalled.
" Why do you have a picture of her, sir?"
Mr. Aarons gave a pained smile that didn't reach his eyes.
" I knew her."
" Oh." Lou blinked. " Was she your friend?"
" My best friend." He closed his eyes, and Lou swore she'd never seen him look so...old and tired.
Yet at the same time, Lou got a flash of depressed little boy in his face, not so different from herself.
" Oh," Lou's voice sounded small. " How did she die?"
" S-she-" Mr. Aarons sucked in a breath before lowering his head. " She drowned. In a creek between our houses. She lived in the old empty one next door."
" I'm so sorry, sir." Lou hardly knew what else to say. " Why did you show me this?" She wondered, baffled, looking up at him.
" Leslie always used to make me so happy. She still does. I thought maybe she'd brighten up your day too." Mr. Aarons' lips quirked up slightly.
Lou's eyes traced over the big, framed photo again.
Leslie's grin was large, the corners of her face crinkled, eyes sparkling. She looked so carefree. Her smile was infectious, and Lou couldn't help but smile back.
" It almost feels real," she murmured.
" What does?" Mr. Aarons inquired, now searching her eyes, almost critically, as if desperately looking for something.
" H-her," Lou said uncertainly, pointing at Leslie's dazzling face, " It feels like she's right here, in the room with us."
Mr. Aarons looked kind of blown away, before he smiled at her.
" Oh, she is," he said tenderly. "She always is."
" What do you mean, sir?" Lou asked confusedly.
" Well, I've kept her with me, in here," he patted his chest, over his heart, " She'll never really be gone, so long as I-" " Mr. Aarons?" Lou interrupted.
" Yeah?"
" Do you love her?" Lou asked.
He smiled, a look that suggested he'd found something of great value.
" That's the first time someone's ever asked me that without saying 'did'." Mr. Aarons said, putting a hand on her shoulder in a grandfatherly sort of manner. " Yes. I love her."
" Is that why you never got married, because of Leslie?"
He nodded.
" Does she love you too?"
Mr. Aarons looked at the picture, then skywards. " Yeah, I think so."
" I'll bet she does." Lou said firmly, staring up at him. " I'll bet anything."
" You're a bright girl, Lou." Mr. Aarons stated.
" Thank you, sir." She replied sheepishly, blushing.
" You better get home." He told her, patting her shoulder.
" Oh, yeah," Lou checked her watch, heading for the door.
" Be early tomorrow, there's something else show you." Mr. Aarons called after her.
" What, sir?" She turned.
" Something of Leslie's and mine. I think you'll like it." He said mysteriously.
" Okay." Lou nodded, " Bye, Mr. Aarons!"
As she was running back down the street, a thought crossed her mind.
Next time, I'll say bye to Leslie too. I bet she'll like that.
Okay, so here's the first chapter, don't forget to review, let me know your thoughts. Also, this is like 56 years later, and I'm not psychic, so I just wrote it kind of like today. Come on. Do you really think there'll be flying cars and buses? This isn't the Jetsons, people. So, review, and I'll see you soon for chapter two. Jolly dragons, everyone!
