Memo:

This is the NEW Solar Eclipse. I left the old story up so you can compare the differences (if there are any). Feel free to PM me or send virtual letter bombs about how I can improve. Constructive criticism is appreciated, and so are reviews. I'm going to work on redoing my other stories, but I, CampHB, solemnly swear to update at least once a week on this story until school starts for me. I'll see what happens then. Anyway, enough with my ranting. Read, review, and enjoy! :)

~CampHB

Summer: [suhm-er] (n) the warmest season of the year, following spring

Summer...

Summertime…

Summertime meant ice cream, vacations, and pools. Summertime meant beaches, tans, sand castles, and hot guys. Summertime meant fun, freedom, and sunshine.

Not for me.

I groaned and flung my backpack at the wall, sending a heated glare at the object's direction before I flopped down on my bed, exhausted. A slight smirk touched my lips as I heard the satisfying clunk of the bag making contact with the wall.

"Never again…" I muttered under my breath, glowering fiercely at the ceiling above me.

Of course it just had to be the perfect, cliché summer day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the grass was growing (somewhere off in the distance a lawn mower was running).

And I was stuck at home.

I lay there on my bed, still sending the ceiling withering stares.

"Whatever," I mumbled, sighing.

I drank in the cool calmness of everything and my lids quickly became heavy. The warm, breeze-filled air swept in gently through my window and I smiled. If I could, I would've loved to be outside right now, splayed out on the grass watching the clouds as they lazily drifted by, or relaxing on a tree branch and seeing the leaves rustle ever so slightly as a draft of air passed.

Maybe tonight Mom will let me go to the backyard or maybe on top of the roof to watch the stars or something. If I can convince her that I'll be safe, then—

"Reagan! Your homework!"

My mother's voice rang out and disturbed me from my tranquil state.

"Sure, whatever," I grumbled, half annoyed that someone had barged into my peaceful little world. I buried my head underneath my pillow.

"I want you to do it this time, okay? Finish the history essay and I'll read it after I come back from WalMart."

Okay, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Mom. Geez, I need some quiet time alone…

The front door slammed shut and I heard the engine start. Gravel crunched and Mom's car took off. I lazily opened one eye.

Homework…

My gaze immediately shifted to the abandoned heap in the corner that was my backpack. A small scowl made its way onto my face as I was (unfortunately) reminded of the ton of worksheets that filled the bag.

I'll do it later…

My eyes glanced about my room, falling on a photo taped to the wall above my desk. It was of my two best friends and me, taken on the last day of school, before they'd both moved away.

Smart, know-it-all Sofia had moved to California about a month ago, already gone and out of my reach. Though she had constantly nagged me about being lazy, I still missed hearing her all-too-familiar voice criticizing every single thing I did. The only way I was connected to her was probably via good old-fashioned post mail, since she didn't use email very often.

Theia hadn't moved yet, but she was going soon. Her parents had both found jobs in upstate New York, somewhere near Albany. She'd always been an optimist and more motherly over Sofia and I, telling Sofia to calm down when she got too worked up and getting me up on my feet once in a while. I would most definitely miss her upbeat comments (especially compared to Sofia's daily scoldings).

A letter Sofia had mailed a couple weeks ago told me that she was at a summer camp right now. She'd explained to me in detail about how fun it was and how she really felt like she truly fit in. Theia had also told me she was going to a camp on Long Island for the whole summer.

So why wasn't I in camp or on vacation or having fun?

Two words.

Summer. School.

A noise that oddly sounded like a growl escaped from my throat.

Summer school. I dreaded it.

Every single summer since sixth grade to my current freshman year in high school I'd been forced to go back to the stupid building that had imprisoned me for about ten months already through the year and attend the classes that were advertised as "exciting" and "thrilling".

Pft. As if.

One week per class failed, was the minimum requirement for summer school.

And I'd failed most of them.

So how many weeks was I stuck in this hellhole each year?

About five to seven weeks, depending on the year. A whole month and a half of summer vacation wasted on schoolwork.

At first my mother had been on my side, rejecting the offers and doing her best to ignore them; but as my grades had gotten worse, she finally agreed to let me go, despite my protests.

"I know you have ADD and dyslexia," she'd said, "but that's not an excuse not to do well in school. I've seen you try your hardest before, Reagan, and you did great. But right now, you're not even trying."

Whenever I recall her words, I always have the strong urge to facepalm. She thought I wasn't trying, but I was. She just didn't know how hard I was struggling to catch up with the class. God, sometimes I really didn't understand how that woman did things, but I had to love her anyway. After all, she was doing her best to help me.

So here I was, confined under a gray shingled roof in a building made of bricks (and whatever they used to make the house from), forced to come back each day and sit at my desk to write answers to worksheets until my hand fell off and my eyeballs fell out while my friends were both at camps that (from the details they gave me) had great food, fun activities, and plenty of hot guys.

I mumbled something that sounded like "urgh" before closing my eyes again. Homework could wait. I needed some sleep.

Author's Notes:

Sorry if this chapter was too short or too long. As I said before, feel free to review, PM, or spam me. The next chapter should be up by (or hopefully before) June 3rd. Hope you liked it :)

~CampHB