By RS Luebben
Chapter One
Dirt road, riding my Grandma's bike, middle of nowhere, bugs in my nose, in my ear, and on my last nerve. As if I wasn't already a sea of aggravation. Spending my summer break at my grandparent's cabin wasn't my winner for the best idea dearest dad but this will be my reality until the start of the new school year. My life of late has been heading downhill and gaining momentum since the end of school. The hits just keep coming after my parent's divorce, moving from the only childhood home I've ever known, changing schools, and possibly never seeing my friends again.
My Father will be leaving soon to interview for new jobs as well as a new place for us to live. Let's see if he can do so before the start of the new school year. My mother made it impossible to afford our house since bowing out of the picture and the fact that my Father's job required him to travel meant a reboot of our whole way of living was necessary. In other developments, meet my new friend, her name is depression and she comforts me with food.
My first year in High School as a Sophomore was enough pressure. I was looking forward to these three months off of school, but now I'm drowning in uncertainty. I will have to make all new friends again, oh goodie. Is my father going to notice the way I peddle this bike in anger or just my general bitchy attitude? In fairness to him, my bitch levels tend to start at a seven so detecting the subtleties may be challenging.
I love my grandparents and all but it just isn't the way I wanted to spend my summer. Could have gone to uptown with the other freaks or walked around Lake Harriet like all the other dysfunctional teens. Instead, I get to hang out with mosquitoes, and all of their creepy cousins. My Grandfather says he's taking me on a trip to the Boundary Waters for two weeks and that it will do me good. Yes, Grandpa sleeping in a tent with you in the middle of nowhere is my dream come true. If that isn't the winner for the creepiest "what did you do on your summer break?" answer I don't know what is.
Forgive my whiney attitude but I'm jumping out of my skin. Not to say it isn't beautiful here. Everywhere you turn are pristine lakes and rivers. The air is so fresh and different from the city that I'm thinking of canning it and selling it on eBay. Grand Marais, the closest town from the cabin, has great shopping areas and the Lake Superior views while sitting on the harbor beach are all that they've ever been each time I've come here. I've seen them, and they're great, now I could use a friend to share them. To make things worse, my grandparents don't even have Wi-fi. I know what you're thinking but it's often the only way to keep in contact with my friends. The areas where you can make calls, text, or use the internet are scarce. You have to go to Grand Marais to do so, and my grandparents don't seem keen on taking me there every day. I'd bike into town but as bad as I complain I'm not that motivated to do so. Let's just say I wasn't blessed in the way of genetics when it comes to the sphere of athletics, which I kind of wear as a badge of honor.
I've already been staying here a week and they have sentenced me to serve at least three more months while my father looks for a job that doesn't make him travel. My wondrous mother has decided to spend her summer running off with her latest boy toy and leaving us. They are in Europe, a place I've always wanted to go but would I want to share a vacation with them, Hell no. My poor mother decided that she was going to focus on her needs at the expense of everyone else. I'm not bitter about it though. I only want to kick her in her lady balls or something violent.
I spend my days going on walks or bike rides. We went on a road trip to some State Parks and into Duluth, which is like time traveling to the present compared to around the cabin. Duluth is one of the most beautiful cities I've ever been to. They say it like San Francisco of The North. Most importantly Duluth has other teenagers. Grand Marais is nice but it's mostly adults walking around dressed ready to go to a Beach Boys concert. They have the "I'm on vacation look," which means they look stressed out. If they are like my family, they are arguing about where they should go to eat or what to do next. It's the little things that must become an event-level disaster discussion with my family. I think because of my father's recent relationship status my grandparents have taken an easy on him. He will be leaving tomorrow and then I get to look forward to spending my time playing board games with grandma and beating my head against a wall with boredom. I hope my Grandfather's suggestion of going to the Boundary Waters was a joke. I am hoping so, for I feel cut off enough from the world already. Heading into a place where you have to canoe everywhere, and worst, go to the bathroom in the woods. I'll probably just hold it, that's possible, right? The Boundary Waters is a body of land and water, get this, on the boundary of the US and Canada. It's set aside for protection or that's what I've been told for I wasn't paying that much attention. I mean he can't be serious about camping like it's the dawn of time? No motorization is allowed there, first time I wish I was motorized. You paddle out with everything you paddled in. It's almost like being stranded on a deserted island. If you hear of a girl who was eaten by a bear this summer, then I guess my grandpa was serious about going. I suppose I should be peddling back to the cabin before grandma Charlotte tans my hide from being late to dinner. She's like the best cook in the world and to be honest it is the best part of being up here. My grandpa Harrison can be easily annoyed by me and I don't mean to be such a brat around him. "I make too much noise", he always says to me. He can be grouchy himself so the two of us make a great pair. To be honest I probably get it from him. The lights of the cabin are in my view as the veil of night descends on the tree line. Thoughts of grandma's strawberry rhubarb crisp are making me peddle faster toward her table. So I'll probably gain like 50 pounds with all of the sweet treats, but who can resist homemade bakery cooked with love? That makes them the most dangerous kind.
Chapter Two