I'll Always Remember

Carter Grayson walked into the kitchen of the small house he shared with his daughter. He smiled at the petite figure standing at the stove. "Hi sweetheart," Carter greeted. "How was school today?"

"School was great, Daddy," Sydney answered, still stirring the pasta sauce that was to go along with dinner. "The auditions went wonderfully. I got the part I wanted in the play."

"That's fantastic, Syd," Carter replied, crossing to the cabinet and pulling out two plates. He set them down on the polished wooden table, noticing the piece of paper with the tutoring volunteers written on it. In Syd's neat cursive was a name Carter was not expecting to see. "Sky Tate Collins?"

"Yes Daddy," Syd answered as she brought the pot of pasta over and scooped servings onto both of the plates. "He needs the hours for his community service. And to help tutor the less privileged can make a real difference at the same time. This way everybody wins, Daddy."

"How did you get him to agree to this?" he asked as he opened the silverware drawer and pulled out two forks. "He doesn't even come to church on Sundays and from what I understand he gets into a lot of serious trouble. His poor mother doesn't know what to do with him anymore."

"He's the male lead in the play with me," Sydney said, "And when auditions were over I mentioned the program to him. He said to sign him up for it." Now she was pouring the Alfredo sauce over the piles of pasta. "Be nice, Daddy. I think he can do this."

"Well, if you really think so," Carter said. He opened the oven door and took out the garlic bread Syd had made. "You tell me how he does. I want a full report Saturday afternoon."

--

"Sky, dinner's ready!" Jen called up the stairs. Sky stomped down them, a scowl on his face. "Well, there's no need to look so happy about it," she added upon seeing this. "What's wrong this time?"

"The stupid drama teacher gave me a role in the stupid play," Sky grunted, picking up his fork and stabbing his dinner with it.

"But that's good, Sky. You've never participated in any school activities before. Maybe this is just what you need to get you back on the right track. All of these late nights and parties and the drinking I know you do…I don't like it and the sad part is I know you act out so defiantly is because you miss your father."

"I don't miss him," Sky spat. "I don't. You're delusional, Mom. I don't 'act out' either. I've always been this way."

"Don't speak to me that way," Jen hissed anger in her eyes now. "I am your mother, Sky, and I certainly will not be treated in such a way. I work too hard for this family to deserve it."

"Do you ever wonder why you have to work so hard, Mom? It's because of that jerk over in Silver Hills who won't leave us a dime of the billions he's sitting on. He doesn't give a damn about us and he didn't give a damn about Dad, either."

"You will never catch me singing your grandfather's praises, Sky, but for now, that's enough. Finish your dinner and go back to your room."

"Whatever," Sky said coldly. "I can't wait until I'm out on my own."

"It's coming sooner than you think," retorted Jen in the same icy tone. "I suppose you'll be a mechanic to make your ends meet? That seems to be the only thing that you like."

"Don't act like you understand me, Mom. Don't act like you even care. You loved Dad, not me. I'm not stupid, you know. I wonder why you even stuck around the last few years, considering that I'm a 'thug' and all."

"You have no idea how wrong you are, Sky. Of course I love you. You're my son." Sky merely snorted as he walked out towards the front door.

"Maybe I'll come back and maybe I won't."

Jen couldn't reply to her son's words. She was too busy staring at the photo of Sky's father hanging in the hallway. "Wes," she murmured, "Where did I go wrong with him?"

--

Saturday morning found Sky sitting on a yellow school bus, headphones blaring rock music in his ears. He was glaring out of the window.

Sydney got on at the stop after his, looking fully alert and willing to waste a lazy Saturday morning 'making a difference' in underprivileged children's' lives. She was dressed in a pink shirt and blue denim overalls, the ever-present white sweater tied around her waist. Her script was sticking out of one pocket. "Good morning, Sky," she chirped. He grunted a vague response.

Syd sat down next to him and took the script from her pocket. "Would you like to go over your lines, Sky? I could help you, if you'd like. Or you could quiz me on mine. I'd really appreciate it if you'd help me."

Sky paused his song. "Sydney, it's too early for me to be awake. Can you not be so chipper? All I want is to have a bit of peace."

Syd smiled. "Of course. I'm very sorry." He had not noticed the hurt look in her eyes. She opened her script to her own monologue, reading it intently. She mouthed the words as the bus continued to the elementary school on the outskirts of New Tech.

Once the volunteers had arrived, they were met by a group of children. "Sky," Syd said, "You'll be helping out Sam today." She gestured to a small boy with red hair and freckles. He looked as if he didn't want to be there, just as Sky did.

"Come on," he grunted to the boy, who followed him inside and led him to a table. There was a backpack and a few textbooks on top of it, as well as notebooks and pencils. "What do you need help with?"

"In math we're learning about geometry," Sam said in his squeaky voice. "I don't get it at all. It's so dumb and confusing. I mean, who cares about angles and rays when they could be playing basketball?"

Sky had taken geometry in his freshman year of high school and had found it ridiculously simple. "It's not hard." He grunted a bit more and told Sam to try one of the problems by himself.

"Like this?"

"No, no," Sky said impatiently. This was followed by a string of curse words.

The rest of the morning didn't fare much better. Sydney said as much as they boarded the bus.

"Well, I'm not like you, Sydney. I'm not a saint. I don't care about helping. All I want is to get through the community service sentence from hell."

"I'm not a saint, Sky," Syd replied quietly. "What do you even know about me?"

"You are Sydney Drew Grayson. You moved here from Mariner Bay in third grade. You love acting. Your mother is dead and your father is a pastor. You own exactly one sweater."

"Surface images are often misconceptions."