Northern_Lights_2019

19 The Pond By Livia Wallace The silken late-August pond is only disturbed by the occasional amethyst dragonfly. At the sound of tires crunching on gravel, the pine trees tremble, their watery twins swaying in unison. A rusted red truck slows and then stops in the lot by a sign that says M. B. Friendly Pond: In Loving Memory. The vehicle’s humming stops and Kara and Griffin step out. Griffin carries his tackle box in one hand and a grocery bag with sandwiches and Arnold Palmers in the other. Kara carries the sunscreen and the towels, her white sundress glowing in the light. “Beautiful day.” Kara slips off her purple flip- flops and steps onto the dock, soaking in the feeling of the warm wood on her feet. “Yup,” Griffin replies from the end of the dock, wrestling a worm onto his hook. He casts his rod with a whir, rippling the water with a plop , his line slicing the smooth surface. Kara shakes out her towel and then lays it down, trying to smooth it over the cracks the planks of wood create. “Hey, isn’t this the towel you got me on your California trip last year?” Griffin turns. “Yeah.” He grins slightly. “Yup, that was from last year.” “Well, I love it.” “Good.” Griffin cranks his line back in. It follows the sound of his crank, the pond glossing over again after the bobber passes by. A redwing calls in the distance. Kara slips off her white sundress, setting it by her sandals on the shore. She has on a new white swimsuit. Griffin continues to cast and reel. Kara runs back to the truck and then returns. The radio croons out over the pond and reverberates off the pines. “Griff. Talk to me.” Kara walks down the dock and plops herself at the end of it, skimming her feet over the water. “Not right now.” “Why not?” “I’m thinking.” A slow wind makes the pines sway, sending a ripple over the mirror-like pond. Kara brushes a tendril of hair from her eyes. “I got a new swimsuit.” “I saw.” “Well, do you like it?” “Sure.” “So you hate it.” He blinks. “I didn’t say that.” “That’s what you thought. ” A pinecone plops down into the water on their left. She rubs her earlobe. “Do you still think I’m pretty?” “Pretty?” He raises his voice. “You’re beautiful! Gorgeous,” he whispers, sending his line a little more ferociously. It snags on a lily pad. “I love you.” Kara rises, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He turns to face those beautiful green eyes and that bleach-blonde hair that he has known for so long and sees that her eyes are as placid as the pond: sure, calm, unwavering. How could she not see his tsunami heart? Ed Sheeran’s voice comes on the radio. I found a love for me . . . Kara’s eyes light up. “Griff! This is our song! Dance with me.” She smiles. Griffin hesitates. Kara grabs him by the arm and pulls him into a waltz. We were just kids when we fell in love . . . Griffin thinks of all of the memories he and Kara have shared. His mind lands on sixth grade, the summer he met Kara. Her bleach-blonde hair stuck out from under her baseball cap and the gap between her two front teeth was so big that she could stick a McDonald’s straw in between them. She was twiggy and unassuming until you saw her with a softball bat. Man, could she hit! She out-hit all of the kids on Olive Street that year. The only problemwas that she couldn’t throw, which got her in trouble that August when she accidentally broke one of Dr. Leer’s car windows. Her dad grounded her for three weeks; one for breaking the window and two because she giggled when he was scolding her. Kara spins on one foot, her twirl twisting the smooth towel into a snail shape. Griffin searches her eyes. He wants to believe that she would never do anything to hurt him. Kara giggles. “Something’s wrong.” Griffin stops, letting go of Kara’s hand.