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Chapter 2 : A Walk Down Memory Lane
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Tap. Tap. Tap.
I groaned and pulled my blanket over my head as I rolled over in my canopy bed. Whatever’s making that noise better clear off or I swear to Merlin I’m going to cut a bitch.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
OKAY, THAT’S IT.
Throwing off my blankets and grumbling profanities under my breath, I stumbled over to my window seat. I rubbed my eyes and peered out the window, only to find that it was none other than James Potter, my best friend since birth, throwing stones at my window.
“Kat!” he called, chucking another pebble at my window.
I opened it and yelled, “You prat! IT IS” – I glanced over at my clock – “TWO IN THE AFTERNOON and I’m trying to sleep so you can EFF RIGHT OFF.”
“Oh come on Kat, school starts tomorrow! It’s the last day of summer, don’t waste it sleeping. Let’s do something!” I could clearly see his bright white smile from all the way up here.
“DON’T. CALL. ME. KAT,” I hollered out the window. “And stop throwing rocks at my house!”
It’s a good thing I don’t have neighbours. Well, unless you include the Potters, but they’re used to my screaming, so.
Ignoring me, he said, “Pleeeaaase Kat?” and continued throwing the damn pebbles.
I groaned. “Fine!”
I showered quickly and got dressed. When I got downstairs, I found James now chilling on the couch in my living room, talking up a storm with my father about Quidditch. Surprise, surprise.
“Did you want to do something today or did I crawl out of bed and get dressed for nothing?” I yawned.
“Right. Cheers William!”
Yeah, you know your families are close when your best friend calls your dad by his first name. But hey, that’s one of the perks of being best friends since the womb.
“What do you want to do?” I asked when we got outside. I squinted into the sunlight. It was a beautiful August day.
“I don’t know actually. Fancy a walk?” he suggested.
“Sure,” I shrugged.
We found ourselves walking through the forest in our backyards. I loved this time of year because the breeze was cool on my skin and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn a beautiful shade of gold. We arrived at a flattened area and stopped at the sight of a wooden swing that hung on an oak tree.
“Oh wow, I completely forgot about that swing,” James said in awe.
There was a moment of silence as memories of all the times we played on that swing came rushing back to us.
“FIRST ONE TO THE TREE GETS THE SWING!” I yelled, breaking the silence and running towards it.
“OI!” he yelled, as he lunged and grabbed my ankle. I tripped, but not without taking him down with me.
“ARSEHOLE!” I screeched, scrambling to get back up. He was already up and running, so I leaped onto his back and we both came crashing down again.
We repeated this sequence a couple more times until we got to the tree; both of us entangled in each other’s limbs, laughing hysterically.
Finally, we got up and I sat down on the swing. He came up from behind me and asked, “Fancy a push?”
“Yes please, Jamesie Poo, I would fancy a push!”
Minutes passed with both of us simply enjoying each other’s company. Every now and then I would feel his warm, large hands on my lower back, pushing me forward. It was peaceful, calm.
And then with one mighty push, I went flying off the swing and my face met the ground.
Why, hello there grassy ground, how are you doing on this fine day? Me? I’m doing spectacular, thanks for asking. Please excuse the vulgarity in the next sentence.
“JAMES SIRIUS FUCKING POTTER, YOU GIT, FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, I’M GOING TO MURDER YOUR ARSE.” And with that, I jumped up and full on pounced on his sorry arse.
I swear I must have jumped five feet. Someone throw me a bouquet.
“GERROFF ME! YOU’RE MENTAL, KAT,” he cried in a strangled voice.
I went to punch his face, but he grabbed my wrist and began making me hit my own face instead.
He laughed. “Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Don’t be a prat, stop hitting yourself Kat!”
I squirmed out of his grip, socked him in the face, and stumbled away. However, due to his quick Quidditch reflexes, he grabbed my leg and attempted to pull me down once more. So instead of escaping gracefully, I made full contact with a mother fucking tree.
What the hell is with me and injuring Mother Nature?
I slowly got up and my eyes met two poorly written markings in the bark of the tree. My fingers traced the indents of “JAMES” and “RINA”.
“Whoa,” James whispered as he came up from behind me. He lifted his own hand to trace the markings as well. He pushed me slightly out of the way and said, “It’s hard to believe” – he took two steps closer – “that mine was way better than yours.”
“You are such a git,” I muttered, kicking him in the shin.
So here's a little taste of Rina and James' friendship.
Also, Rina's dad, William Lynch, used to be a world class Quidditch player. He now coaches.
What do you guys think?
~ Jenny & Maysie
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