Leap of Faith by Cassidy Shay (the giving tree read aloud .txt) 📕
There’s a long pause. “Yeah.” He sounds confused, and I understand why. Of course I can hear him. He’s on the radio.
“You don’t understand, though." Now it all comes out in a rush. "I’ve been deaf since I was six and I was in the car earlier and suddenly I could hear this radio station and Amazing Grace was playing but I couldn’t hear anything else and I can’t hear my sister or my mom and I can’t hear if the dog next door is barking. I can only hear your radio station.”
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- Author: Cassidy Shay
Read book online «Leap of Faith by Cassidy Shay (the giving tree read aloud .txt) 📕». Author - Cassidy Shay
I smile back at her. "Me too," I say. "Me too."
The next day, all I can seem to think about is Mikey.
I begin to picture us a few years from now. We're both graduated, both going to college, and still madly in love. People compliment us all the time, tell us what a beautiful story we have. Fast forward a few more years, and we have a few kids running around the house. White picket fence, a dog, the perfect marriage, the perfect life.
I've always wanted a family of my own, but I've always been terrified that I'll end up like my parents. Well, like my mom was for so many years. Single, raising two kids, full time job, no support or contact whatsoever from her ex-husband. Since I was a little kid, I've been terrified that I'll end up just like my parents.
When I think about a future with Mikey, I'm not scared at all. We've both learn from our parents' mistakes. We'd be stronger than they were. I'm confident that, if Mikey and I do stay together for the next year or two, we'll be together forever.
Part of me is still cautious. After all, we're still in high school. The chances of us sticking together are pretty slim. But I'm confident that we could make it. I love him. And he loves me. What more could we need?
The next day around noon, he comes over. "Hey," he says, walking into my room. I set aside my notes that I was studying, and he sits on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”
I stop him. “No, Mikey, it was my fault. I shouldn’t be jealous, and I shouldn’t have said anything. I know that you’re just trying to make sense of everything, and I’m sorry for not being more understanding.”
He nods, but neither of us say anything else for about a minute. Then, “So… I wanted to talk to you about next weekend. My parents and I had this trip planned. We were going to go to California, go to the beach, hang out for a few days. Well, my mom doesn't want to go now, because... well, you know." I see the now-familiar look of hurt in his eyes, but it's not nearly as bad as it used to be. "My dad suggested that I ask you if you want to come with us."
I look down at my lap. I wasn't expecting this. A weekend away with my boyfriend, romantic walks on the beach, getting away from all the drama with my parents, all the drama with his parents... A whole weekend where he's all mine, and he can't slink off to go hang out with the priest? I can't help the smile from forming on my lips.
Before I can say anything, he keeps going. "I know your parents might not be particularly thrilled by the thought of you spending a couple nights away with your boyfriend. But my dad will be there the whole time, and he said if they want to talk to him in person he'd be more than happy to talk to them and reassure them that you will be in good hands. We already have a reservation for this room, which is why we can't just cancel. And it would just be Saturday night, and..."
I start laughing, and he stops. "What?"
"You. You're just a funny guy." I smile up at him, and he just looks confused. "I would love to go. I don't know how easy it will be to convince my parents, but I would love to go with you."
He smiles, then leans over to kiss my cheek. "I gotta go, but I'll talk to you about it later, okay? I was sent on an errand for groceries, and stopped to tell you on the way.” As I watch him leave, I can’t help smile. There’s a grocery store right down the street from his house. I’m definitely not “on the way.”
Mikey
As graduation approaches, I start to get a permanent pit inside my stomach. I don't know what will happen after this summer. I don't know where I'll be, if I'm going to college or just straight into the workforce. And I don't know where I'll stand with Amia. She still has a whole year left of school. Who knows where that year will take me?
I feel better once my dad convinces her mom to let her come on the trip. It's going to be nice to get to be with her for a couple days, to be away from the drama with her parents and with my parents. And maybe we'll figure out what the future holds for us. I don't want to let her go. I can picture us being together for the rest of our lives. So why is this one year causing me so much distress?
I stand in my room, getting ready for graduation. My cap and gown are hanging on the closet door and my tie is thrown over the back of my desk chair. I examine my reflection in the mirror, not quite sure what to think. This school year has been amazing. I finished at the top of my class, I've had so many great memories. And I fell in love with an amazing girl. It was also the year that my parents announced that they're getting a divorce. And the last year I had to decide what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. This next year, I know, will be awesome. I'll be on my own, no longer in the middle of Mom and Dad. I'll have independence, can become self-sufficient. Whether I go to college or not, I'll be starting the next chapter in my life, as cheesy as that sounds.
I don't feel ready. I don't feel like it's really time for me to graduate from high school. But I know that it is time, that there's nothing left for me to do but walk across that stage and receive my diploma.
I couldn't be more nervous.
I couldn't be more excited.
I finish getting ready and head to the school. We're all a bit nervous, a bit excited, and a bit confused about where the last eighteen years of our life went.
Finally, the teachers wrangle us up into our line, get us ready to walk across the football field. The ceremony blurs by, and after about an hour and a half, it's over. Our principal steps up to the mic, looks at the crowd, and then at us. "I now present the graduated class..." The rest of her sentence is drowned out by the cheers of the couple thousand people in the stadium. Our senior song starts, and we start the procession off the field.
Joe claps his hand on my shoulder as we walk to the spot where we agreed to meet our parents. "Dude, we did it! We're done! Can you believe it?"
I shake my head. "It's crazy."
I can’t believe it. I’m actually done.
The next morning, I finish putting a few things into my suitcase. My toothbrush, phone charger, and a couple other last minute necessities. I head downstairs, give my mom a hug.
"Have fun, honey," she says, and squeezes me extra tight. "And, you know, behave." She gives me a look, the same look she's given me any time she remembers that I'm taking Amia on my trip.
I sigh, tired of having this same conversation. "Mom, I promise you nothing will happen. Dad will be there the entire time. And besides. You can trust me. You've raised me well. And you can trust her. I promise." She nods and finally releases me.
I walk outside, and my dad's car is idling at the curb. I put my bag in the trunk, and hop into the car. "Are you ready?" he asks, and then puts the car into drive, and we head to Amia's house. It's about a six hour drive, and it's 6:30 now. I didn't get much sleep last night, so I hope I manage to stay awake for the rest of the day. We'll hit the beach just in time for lunch, and have all of the afternoon and evening to ourselves. I've already called and made a reservation for tonight at a restaurant where Mom and Dad always went. It overlooks the beach, and I figure afterwards we can take a walk back to the hotel. It'll be a nice, relaxing day with my girl.
We pull up to her house, and I go to her door. As I step onto the porch, the door swings open and she comes out. "Are you ready?"
She smiles and lets out a small yawn. "Yeah, I'm ready, but I didn't get much sleep last night. Mom and Dad gave me a huge lecture about behaving, and how they'll be keeping in contact with your dad all weekend to make sure that we're not doing anything we aren't supposed to be doing." We're at the car now, so I open her door and as she says hi to my dad, I put her suitcase in the trunk. "Good morning," I hear her say to my dad. I slide into the back seat next to her and she continues her story. "And then finally, they let me go to sleep and then Lisa came into my room and told me that I shouldn't worry about Mom and Dad, that she got away with a lot of stuff and Mom never found out. Then, despite my protests, she insisted on describing to me all the stuff she's gotten away with. She called it girl talk. I call it sleep deprivation." She lays her head on my shoulder.
"So, do you mind if I try to sleep on the way there?" I've never been more thankful for someone else not getting enough sleep. Within ten minutes, we're both dead to the world.
I wake up at about noon, and Amia's head is still on my shoulder. I make eye contact with my dad in the mirror. "Get a nice nap?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say, rolling my neck. Slumping over like I was for the last five hours wasn't a very good idea. "Sorry for falling asleep on you. With last night, I just didn't get much sleep."
After a few minutes, Amia wakes up. "Feel better?" I ask, and she nods.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Usually I'm okay without tons of sleep. But man I was tired." She laughs, a noise that I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing. I can't wait for this weekend to officially get started, for us to get out of the car and get to explore the boardwalk for the afternoon.
When we finally get to the hotel, we put our stuff in the room. Amia goes into the bathroom to change into her bathing suit, and my dad takes out his wallet. "Hey, Mikey, I know you have money in your account, but I don't want you to have to spend it all this weekend." He pulls out two fifties, presses them into my hand.
"Dad, you don't have to-"
"I know I don't. But I want to.
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