In books, it is always described perfectly how a girl gets all misty eyed and tingly feeling over the boy they love. Emanuella Yates had researched this sensation extensively by reading up on romance novels. Once she observed it in the way Emily Valentina, her next door neighbor, had looked at Bobby Farahday after she had fallen out of a peach tree with him and bashfully scurried away. It troubled Emanuella that she had never seen her mother look that way at her father. Her parents got along quite well, and she had seen them work patiently together through all sorts of situations, so she was sure they had a great since of trust towards each other, but she never thought of them as in love. One time, though, Emanuella had caught her mother leaning out the window from her attic while gathering eggs in the yard. Even though her mother was far up above her, she recognized the lazy smile and fare away eyes. It was as if her mother was in love with the stars, instead of her husband.
Her mother s full name was Wendy Moira Angela Yates. Before Emanuella was five, she had lived in London, in a house whose number was fourteen. Then, her father, Nathan Yates had decided to move to America to try and make prospects better for the family. Now, the year was 1921, Emanuella was fifteen, and lived on a farm in Georgia. The children who lived near her always teased her and left her out of games because of her accent. She didn t mind, though, because she loved imagining herself on great adventures while outside on her arm, and it worked best when she was by herself so nobody else could change her own stories. Besides, she had the chickens, cows, and sheep to keep her company. Today, it was evening on the fourth of July, and Emanuella was dressed for the occasion. She was wearing a newly ironed cherry red blouse, a royal blue skirt that swayed just right, and a nearly spotless white apron that tied to cinch her waist in nicely. To top it off, her mother had given her old shoes and a hair ribbon from when she was young. The shoes were simple, they just formed a black rim around her feet, but they were quite charming. The ribbon was tropical-lagoon blue, and look like a miniscule river when it was caught in the wind. Unfortunately, the governor had placed a rather large order of milk to be delivered the next day, so Emanuella was stuck at the farm instead of joining the celebration. Her mother felt absolutely horrible for keeping her away from the fun, but her father had insisted that it was just part of growing up. Sometimes you have to put more important things in front of fun. A rather plump rooster pecked at Emanuella s heels as she carried a pail of milk towards the house, wondering if she had come to sprinkle food over the grass. Henry, you had dinner two hours ago! Can t you wait until morning! All of the sudden, she heard a whistle and a crack from far behind the peach orchards. She jumped a little, and sloshed a little warm milk on her hands.
Fireworks! She gasped.
Emanuella could see only a few of the bright sparkles from over the trees. Determined to get a better view, she put down her pail and made her way over to the rickety drain pipe on the side of her house. She had climbed the drain pipe countless times before to get a clear view of the yard, to spot any eggs she may not have seen from the ground while she was gathering them. Once on the roof, she could see the fireworks perfectly. They looked lovely against the dark blue sky that had been over with sunset but not yet completely dark. The summer heat wasn t unbearable, but she could still feel the little water drops in the air dance around her skin as if to hug her and make her feel cozy and warm. Her imagination went wild, and she imagined she were a firework, jumping into the air and flinging her limbs apart in a star shape. This went on about seven times, but on the eighth, she wasn t paying attention at all to what her feet were doing, and instead of landing on the slant of the roof, her feet met nothing but air. She closed her eyes, knowing she was going to fall, and had enough time before she hit the ground to say a little prayer, asking God if she could please not break any bones, and have nothing but at the most a sprained ankle. After that, she seemed to have more time before she hit the ground, which seemed odd. Surely, the drop wasn t this far down from the roof to the ground. She opened her eyes and understood, or so she thought. The sky seemed to be getting closer, so she must have fallen up instead of down. This, even though it may not make sense to you, was a very reasonable explanation to Emanuella.
Then, she looked sideways, and found out it was not that she was falling into the sky. At the same time, she was experiencing, for the first time for herself, the tingly feeling a girl feels about a boy. It was a boy who had caught her, one arm under her shoulders and the other bellow her knees, and now he was flying through the air high above the ground with her. He was so gentle; she had not even felt his arms around her at first. Looking into his eyes, her heart started to act like a firework, just like she was trying to do on her roof. His curly hair looked like the hay she had always used to feed the cows, except for there were some strands that looked more golden than the others, like a ray of sun had gotten tangled up in it. His face was clear and peachy colored, except for one smear of dirt on his left cheek. His eyes were blue, but not see through icy blue, but deep blue. It looked like the sky right then, dark, but at the same time bright because the twinkling of stars. His most curious feature was his smile. Even though he seemed to be about the same age as Emanuella, he still had all of his baby teeth. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
You were trying to fly, weren t you? the boy said playfully, which made the butterflies in Emanuella s stomach flutter around even more, You had the happy thoughts down perfectly, but you forgot pixie dust, silly!
Her mother s full name was Wendy Moira Angela Yates. Before Emanuella was five, she had lived in London, in a house whose number was fourteen. Then, her father, Nathan Yates had decided to move to America to try and make prospects better for the family. Now, the year was 1921, Emanuella was fifteen, and lived on a farm in Georgia. The children who lived near her always teased her and left her out of games because of her accent. She didn t mind, though, because she loved imagining herself on great adventures while outside on her arm, and it worked best when she was by herself so nobody else could change her own stories. Besides, she had the chickens, cows, and sheep to keep her company. Today, it was evening on the fourth of July, and Emanuella was dressed for the occasion. She was wearing a newly ironed cherry red blouse, a royal blue skirt that swayed just right, and a nearly spotless white apron that tied to cinch her waist in nicely. To top it off, her mother had given her old shoes and a hair ribbon from when she was young. The shoes were simple, they just formed a black rim around her feet, but they were quite charming. The ribbon was tropical-lagoon blue, and look like a miniscule river when it was caught in the wind. Unfortunately, the governor had placed a rather large order of milk to be delivered the next day, so Emanuella was stuck at the farm instead of joining the celebration. Her mother felt absolutely horrible for keeping her away from the fun, but her father had insisted that it was just part of growing up. Sometimes you have to put more important things in front of fun. A rather plump rooster pecked at Emanuella s heels as she carried a pail of milk towards the house, wondering if she had come to sprinkle food over the grass. Henry, you had dinner two hours ago! Can t you wait until morning! All of the sudden, she heard a whistle and a crack from far behind the peach orchards. She jumped a little, and sloshed a little warm milk on her hands.
Fireworks! She gasped.
Emanuella could see only a few of the bright sparkles from over the trees. Determined to get a better view, she put down her pail and made her way over to the rickety drain pipe on the side of her house. She had climbed the drain pipe countless times before to get a clear view of the yard, to spot any eggs she may not have seen from the ground while she was gathering them. Once on the roof, she could see the fireworks perfectly. They looked lovely against the dark blue sky that had been over with sunset but not yet completely dark. The summer heat wasn t unbearable, but she could still feel the little water drops in the air dance around her skin as if to hug her and make her feel cozy and warm. Her imagination went wild, and she imagined she were a firework, jumping into the air and flinging her limbs apart in a star shape. This went on about seven times, but on the eighth, she wasn t paying attention at all to what her feet were doing, and instead of landing on the slant of the roof, her feet met nothing but air. She closed her eyes, knowing she was going to fall, and had enough time before she hit the ground to say a little prayer, asking God if she could please not break any bones, and have nothing but at the most a sprained ankle. After that, she seemed to have more time before she hit the ground, which seemed odd. Surely, the drop wasn t this far down from the roof to the ground. She opened her eyes and understood, or so she thought. The sky seemed to be getting closer, so she must have fallen up instead of down. This, even though it may not make sense to you, was a very reasonable explanation to Emanuella.
Then, she looked sideways, and found out it was not that she was falling into the sky. At the same time, she was experiencing, for the first time for herself, the tingly feeling a girl feels about a boy. It was a boy who had caught her, one arm under her shoulders and the other bellow her knees, and now he was flying through the air high above the ground with her. He was so gentle; she had not even felt his arms around her at first. Looking into his eyes, her heart started to act like a firework, just like she was trying to do on her roof. His curly hair looked like the hay she had always used to feed the cows, except for there were some strands that looked more golden than the others, like a ray of sun had gotten tangled up in it. His face was clear and peachy colored, except for one smear of dirt on his left cheek. His eyes were blue, but not see through icy blue, but deep blue. It looked like the sky right then, dark, but at the same time bright because the twinkling of stars. His most curious feature was his smile. Even though he seemed to be about the same age as Emanuella, he still had all of his baby teeth. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
You were trying to fly, weren t you? the boy said playfully, which made the butterflies in Emanuella s stomach flutter around even more, You had the happy thoughts down perfectly, but you forgot pixie dust, silly!