A Day In the Life of Hazel Kamalachi; Chapter 13, Re-united

Cady reached for her pencil, doodling on a notebook--she was supposed to be taking notes on the Iroquois native american tribe, but she wasn't-- and never lifted her eyes up to the white board.

Mr. Calitan coughed several times, as he always did for he seemed to usually have a cold.

"Oh, Cady--nice to see you're taking notes," he said. Cady snapped out of her little transe and stared blankly.

"Yeah..right," she mumbled.

Mr. Calitan snorted.

“Oh, is that right, Caddy?” he asked.

Cady glared. “It’s pronounced Kay-dee.”
He shrugged.

“Anyhow, it’s nice to see you even listening to me once.”
Cady imitated his shrug and kept doodling. On her paper were scribbling of hearts, stars, and J.T. and C.D.
Her and Jake’s initials in the hearts. If Jake or Hazel saw this, she’d be dead. Hazel came over to her desk and took one glimpse of the notebook, but lucky for her, Cady covered it with a hand.

“It’s private, Hazel,” she snarled. Hazel suppressed a smile; how could Cady’s notes be private?

Jake scuffed around in his locker. A hot pink notebook was in his hand. He’d found it in the trash right after lunch, but he had no idea who’s it was. He opened it, flipping through the pages that were filled with squiggles and random doodles of old houses or math and word problems until he saw the same page Cady had been doodling on the very morning. His breath became very short, and he kept staring at the notebook until he decided he’d put in the trash, too. Jake slammed it in there; after ripping it up, of course; but a few scraps still clung to the sole of his shoe. His eyes very fierce, his hair spiked up, he trudged to the dismissal line and looked for Hazel. He thought about what he could possibly say to apologize to her for the way he acted. The sound of his loud footsteps seemed to bother someone, because they turned around and shouted at him to keep it down. Jake rolled his eyes, and without knowing it, walked right pass Hazel. It wasn’t until he was home he found her again sitting on the sidewalk passageway.
Her eyes were very dim, and she threw a rock into the river in her backyard, sighing. Jake saw a blur of her clothing, and (don’t bother reminding him that it was her house), knew it was her. He tapped her on the shoulder gently.

“Hazel?” His voice was very soft.
She turned her head rapidly, glaring at him with burning brown eyes.

“What?” she asked.

Jake fell backwards. “You were right.”
Hazel smiled.

“Let’s go down to the river and talk about it, alright?”
The connection was made again, and they both sprinted towards the jetty.
“Just get out for a little bit,” she said, “and walk along the coast.” She started humming under her breath, a bit of a song Jake had remembered before. “Under the sea…”

Jake followed her as she went down to the jetty, a path to the sea made of huge boulders tumbled one on top of the other. They were slippery, those rocks, with places your feet could get caught, and Hazel wondered if she should help Jake get up. But he didn’t need help. He swung himself up next to Hazel, his bangs blowing in the wind coming off the river.

“Just breathe,” Hazel said softly.
She didn’t have to tell him. He had never smelled anything like that that air: fish, pine needles, and salt.

“This is my place to think,” Hazel started, “and I don’t have a clue what’d I’d do without it.”

Jake grinned. “Besides the oak.”
Hazel nodded, and then they skittered out to where Jake couldn’t see anything but water in front of them. Water, and silky dirt that pounded itself along the sea-line. Hazel pointed down with a foot. Between the rocks were pockets of water, and some had tiny fish swimming beneath and around them, fish so small they were blurs of pewter. In one pool was a crab whose claws were no bigger than a small speck of gravel.

Jake knelt down on the edge of a boulder and put his fingers into the water, watching their reflection as the water moved, feeling the spray on his shirt. Hazel was a stature standing above him, holding her hair against the wind, her eyes closed, a half smile on her face.
“I just wanted to say you were right,” he said slowly. “That I’m sorry.”

Hazel lifted her hand to her hat, running her fingers around the rim. Jake had just noticed she was wearing one. “I just wanted to say the same thing.”
And Hazel knew Fiona or Taylor would be saying, ‘What are you doing, Haze?’

“Come on,” she said, “to the ocean.”
They both smiled at the same time, a welcoming smile that gestured great friendship. The little schools of fish darted away as they grabbed hands, running through the water. It sprayed their shorts as their legs cut through, snapping the small pebbles underneath their feet. Hazel held her hat with her free hand, fingers pinched around it so it wouldn’t blow away.
Soon a little crab came up and scattered along a boulder, so slippery Hazel and Jake could hear its claws clattering against the dampness. Away they ran, not a care in the world, their minds full of innocence.

The pine trees brushed along the edges of their heads until they came to a spot where neither of them could see anything but waving lines of blue; a pure miracle. Their feet were now completely submerged under the water; a curved ring up to their shins. Jake stared blankly into the indigo, admiring the way little stones stuck their heads up from the water like they were waiting to be stepped on.

“It’s amazing, Haze,” he whispered.
Hazel looked under her hat into his eyes. Her grandma had once told her that if you looked into someone’s eyes you could see through their soul. She pulled the shaded hat over her own eyes. No one wanted to see her soul.
Her eyes, through the centimeter of seeing space left under the hat, gazed into his eyes. She could see his soul: calm, full of serenity, and feeling very guilty.
She let go of his hand, smelling the kerosene that had been poluted into the water.

“It’s been months since you called me Haze,” she said, tone-depth to how loud she replied.

Jake knelt down, letting his hand loose through the waves. He sighed. “Yea, well, seemed like a nice time to go and say it again.”
Hazel’s eyes were not hidden anymore, but bright and clear. She knelt next to him, lay in the sun.

“Ha ha,” she said, “very funny.”
Jake got up and splashed her. She shrieked, splashing him back. It went on for an hour, splashing and laughing and falling in the mud. Their clothes were drenched, their feet muddy and little blades of grass was clinging to their ankles.
Hazel squeezed the water out of her hair into Jake’s face, still laughing her head off.

“Race you,” she yelled, hopping back on a boulder and through the river.
Jake followed her, moving the branches out of his way so it made a nice path leading to her backyard, a path of stones and water and trees; a path marked by adventure and happiness.
In the end, Hazel won. She stopped, dripping with salt water and mud from head to toe, in the grass on her knees. Her jeans had a hole where you could see the mud in her scraped knee.

Jake picked a leaf out of her hair. “Your hair is now woven with leaves, congratulations.”

Hazel laughed, laying back in the grass again, only to dry in the sun and hope to do it all over again tomorrow.