A/N: Okay, so a few quick notes. First off, I usually hate stories like this. I usually hate stories where the characters have been aged and I usually hate AU stories but this story incorporates both of these clever, story-telling techniques. I had a sudden fit of inspiration, and as all writers know, in times like these, the stories write us – not the other way around. That being said, I encourage you to read this story and tell me how I did.
The story is based loosely on TheEightFoldPath's 93 Days Of Summer, which ironically I think is probably based on my story, 239 Days. If you have not yet read either of these two stories, by all means, check out my profile. You'll find TheEightFoldPath's story under my Favorite Stories tab. But as I said, this story is only loosely based on either of those two. I needed a bit of a break from 239 Days. So, here's my latest:
Best Summer Ever
Chapter One: The Math Test
Carl's life had changed forever in 2010.
He almost lost his dad.
Rick was a Sheriff's Deputy at the time. He'd gotten shot trying to apprehend some dangerous criminals, and he wound up in the hospital in a coma as a result. Carl had only been twelve at the time. Before his dad's accident, the most pressing things on his mind had been how to survive middle school and how to get the new girl, Sophia, to notice him. The accident had changed his perspective on life, made him come to terms with reality, with growing up.
His dad had survived, don't get me wrong. He woke from his coma a few weeks later, and Carl was at his dad's bed side when that moment came. But from that day on, Carl knew that he couldn't be a kid anymore. He had to start taking life more seriously. He had to be... More like his dad.
"People are going to die in your life, son," Rick had told Carl, "And part of growing up is accepting that. Someday, hopefully years away from now, I'm going to die. Your mother's going to die. Death is a part of life. But we can't let that scare us. We can't let that stop us. Otherwise, we are nothing. Otherwise, we're just standing still."
And that was the most interesting part of Carl's seventh grade year.
That was five years ago. Our story doesn't start in the past. It starts here:
May 15th, 2015.
King County High School.
10:16 A.M.
Carl loved Nick like a brother, but really. That boy could talk. And talk. And talk.
"I'm just saying," Nick prattled on as he shoved a bite of pizza into his mouth, "Thar irn't ner surns-"
"Nick," Carl protested, "Don't speak with your mouth full, man."
"Erkay, murm," he replied, finishing his bite of pizza. "What I was saying is, there's no real sense in making us go to school for half a day. We just shouldn't have school at all. I mean, by the time we get up here and -"
He kept prattling on, but Carl's attention was elsewhere, as he held hands with his girlfriend of two years, Sophia. The three of them walked from the cafeteria towards Building 2, enjoying the warming, morning Georgia sun, the smell of freedom in the air. One more exam, and they were free. One more summer, and they would be beginning the most awesome summer of their lives... And the last summer before they'd all be leaving to start college.
"Are you ready?" Sophia quietly asked Carl as Nick continued his rant behind them.
"Better be," Carl replied, smiling, "I studied all night."
"Who would have thought that the last thing between us and our diplomas would be Mrs. Mueller's math final?" noted Sophia.
"I liked her better when she was my third grade teacher and the hardest assignment was multiplying three times three," Carl complained.
The group took pause outside Building 2 as Nick finished his rant.
"...And that is why our education system needs serious reform!"
"Totally," Carl agreed half-heatedly. His eyes roamed the campus he'd come to appreciate so much over the last four years. This was finally it. The last day of high school.
"Well," Carl finally said, his hand on the door handle to Building 2. "This is it."
"The last day of high school!" Nick noted excitedly.
"I'm a little scared, to be honest," Sophia admitted.
"I'm not," Nick replied, laughing. "Because no more high school means college, and college means parties, and parties mean... college girls! And college girls mean-"
"We get it, Nick," Carl interrupted his friend, chuckling as he opened the glass doors to Building 2. Holding the door open for his girlfriend, he gave her his best country boy smile and said, "The future awaits, m'lady."
"What a gentleman," she replied with a similarly appropriate tone, mimicking the motions of a courtesy as she entered the building, Nick following behind.
10:30 A.M.
"Allow me to take this chance to tell you all how much I am going to miss you," Judith Mueller admitted to her class. "Over the last number of years, I have watched many of you grow up. I have met many new faces along the way, and it has been an honor to be a part of your youth. Believe me when I say that you are all a great group of young men and women, and I wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavors."
A string of compliments everywhere from 'Thank you' to 'We'll miss you, Mrs. Mueller!' were returned, but Judith only smiled as she noted, "I'm flattered, really. But you still have to take the test."
The class groaned as she began handing out the papers.
"As per usual," she noted, "You may have your calculators out, and you are required to show any spare work on the paper provided for you. If you need more, raise your hand and I will provide it for you. Always try. Don't leave a question blank. I can at least give you partial credit if I see you were on the right track."
Carl waited nervously at his desk. This test was of the utmost importance.
Carl's dad had agreed to pay for Carl's ticket on the senior cruise... Only if Carl had an A-B average. No C's. Math was the hardest subject for Carl, and he'd barely been able to maintain the low B he had most of the semester. This final was going to determine rather or not Carl would spend the next two weeks on a cruise or on a couch. Carl was sweating profusely as he grabbed his sheet from the person in the desk in front of him.
Scribbling his name onto the paper, Carl's eyes darted to the first section. Trig. Easy.
He typed a series of sequences onto his calculator. Sin 90 Degrees. Cosine. Find the missing angle. Find the missing side. Find...
Uh-oh.
Question #5. A word problem. Given the drawing and the information below, find the height of the tree.
Below the problem was a drawing of a tree, rooted to the ground, with a ladder at a diagonal angle against the tree. Carl... Had no idea what to do. Think. Come on. Think. Think.
Then, he remembered something that had happened earlier this year. Shane, Carl's step-dad, had taken Carl camping. Carl had been looking forward to it all year, but unfortunately, he had a big math test on Monday. Lori had made a deal with Carl and Shane. They could go, but... Carl had to study while they were on the camping trip.
"I don't see why I have to actually study," Carl had complained, "We could just tell mom I studied and I can put this book down and we can go fishing."
"No can do," Shane replied, "Because then, you'll fail your math test, and I'll be in the dog house."
"Fine," Carl grudgingly replied.
They were silent for a few moments as Carl racked his brain over a math problem, and then Carl, frustrated, through his pencil to the ground.
"It's no fucking use!"
"Hey, man. Watch your language!" Shane interjected.
"I'll never understand any of this! It's not like I'm ever going to use any of it anyway!"
"Let me see that math book," Shane replied, grabbing a hold of it, "Maybe I can help."
"You...? Math?" Carl replied.
"Hey, I'll have you know, I was quite the excellent math student in high school. Which problem are you stuck on?"
"That one," Carl replied, pointing to a word problem.
Shane studied the problem closely. An eleven foot ladder leans up against a tree, forming a 30 Degree Angle. The base of the ladder is a distance of two feet away from the base of the tree. Find the height, in feet, of the tree.
"Well, damn, son, this one's easy," Shane protested.
"What's the answer?" Carl asked, hopefully.
"Not so fast, now. You're going to have to come up with that one on your own."
"Knew it," Carl replied, frowning in frustration.
"Tell you what," Shane replied, "Go get the ladder off the top of the RV and bring it down here."
"What?" Carl asked, surprised.
Slower, Shane repeated himself, "Go get the ladder... And bring it down here."
"Okay," Carl replied, trotting off towards the RV. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a large ladder.
"Good," Shane replied, looking around the camp site, "Now... Go lean it up against that tree."
Carl carried the ladder over to the tree that Shane had pointed out and leaned the ladder against it. Shane walked up to him, studying the set up closely.
"Now, for the sake of conversation, let's say that this ladder is eleven feet tall."
"Shane, it's obviously a lot taller than -"
"For the sake of conversation. Okay, and let's say that the ladder is, what was it?"
"30 Degrees," Carl replied.
"Right. The ladder and the tree form a 30 Degree Angle. And the bottom of the ladder, here," Shane motioned towards the base of the ladder, "Is two feet away from the base of the tree, here," Shane pointed out the base of the tree. "Now what kind of angle does this whole... set up form?"
"A 30 degree angle," Carl replied, sarcastically.
"No, look. If the point where the top of the ladder meets the tree is your B angle and it's 30 Degrees, what angle is formed down here, where the ground meets the tree?"
"...What?" Carl asked.
Shane sighed. He started to draw a straight line with his foot from the base of the ladder to the base of the tree.
"Look closely," Shane said again.
"...Oh! A right angle!"
"Theeere you go, man!" Shane nodded in agreement. "Now hurry up and finish your math homework so we can go fishing."
...Well, duh.
Once Carl realized how simple the word problem was, he quickly arrived at the answer and wrote it down on his paper, moving on to the next question. Before he knew it, he had finished the test, the bell had rang, and Carl was the last one in the class room, waiting patiently beside Mrs. Mueller's desk as she, after much convincing, graded Carl's test early. Carl could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, and a building excitement for the summer that was about to start was rising in his stomach, but being slapped back down by the dread of the possibility that he could be walking out of this class with a C average. Every red pen stroke on his paper, every tick of the clock, the sound of Mrs. Mueller gently humming as she graded Carl's paper... He felt like he might explode with terror and excitement and impatience.
And then, Mrs. Mueller looked up from her paper.
"Welllll?" Carl questioned.
He needed at least an 84 on this test.
"Ninety two," she replied, a smile on her face as the boy whom she had taught all these years erupted into cheers and whoops and hollers. Carl gave Mrs. Mueller a huge bear hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Carl kept saying as he proceeded to moon dance out of the class room.
Carl was finished with high school.
And now, it was time to celebrate.