Harvest III
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III
The dusty yellow school bus picked the kids up at the crossroads a half mile up at 8 every morning. At 7:30 Emma sat on the front step of her house, waiting for Nathan to walk by. Soon she saw his small figure down the road and she hopped of the step, swinging her lunch and small reader and she skipped out to meet him.
“Morning Nathan,” she crooned. “You’re late. We’ll have to walk fast if we’re gonna catch the bus.”
“We’ll be fine. We still got at least 25 minutes.”
“I waited for you.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Well aren’t you happy I did?”
“Sure.”
“Well, why don’t you carry my books for me?” He looked at her hesitantly, then at the books and begrudgingly took the book and bag. The walked along quietly as the bus rumbled toward the crossroad, kicking dust and gravel into great clouds behind it. The two ran toward it, climbing its steps and into a worn vinyl seat near the front. Nathan stared out the window watching the fields go by, and in the faint reflection of the glass he could just see Emma watching him happily. He looked past it toward the distance, but she moved and he felt her warmth lean into him. Without warning, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, pulling back quickly and sitting still with her hands in her lap. Her light cheeks turned crimson and she didn’t look at him. He said nothing, only wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and stared out the window. Finally, she looked at him, looked at his eyes in the reflection and nudged him softly with her hand. “Nathan,” she said uneasily. His eyes stayed on the fields.
“Why did you do that? Why did you kiss me?” His voice was hard.
“I don’t know. Because I thought I was your girlfriend.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend,” he replied coldly, and scooted further into the corner of her seat. Emma clasped her hands tightly and her lap and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, a little line of tears falling from each one.
III
The dusty yellow school bus picked the kids up at the crossroads a half mile up at 8 every morning. At 7:30 Emma sat on the front step of her house, waiting for Nathan to walk by. Soon she saw his small figure down the road and she hopped of the step, swinging her lunch and small reader and she skipped out to meet him.
“Morning Nathan,” she crooned. “You’re late. We’ll have to walk fast if we’re gonna catch the bus.”
“We’ll be fine. We still got at least 25 minutes.”
“I waited for you.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Well aren’t you happy I did?”
“Sure.”
“Well, why don’t you carry my books for me?” He looked at her hesitantly, then at the books and begrudgingly took the book and bag. The walked along quietly as the bus rumbled toward the crossroad, kicking dust and gravel into great clouds behind it. The two ran toward it, climbing its steps and into a worn vinyl seat near the front. Nathan stared out the window watching the fields go by, and in the faint reflection of the glass he could just see Emma watching him happily. He looked past it toward the distance, but she moved and he felt her warmth lean into him. Without warning, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, pulling back quickly and sitting still with her hands in her lap. Her light cheeks turned crimson and she didn’t look at him. He said nothing, only wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and stared out the window. Finally, she looked at him, looked at his eyes in the reflection and nudged him softly with her hand. “Nathan,” she said uneasily. His eyes stayed on the fields.
“Why did you do that? Why did you kiss me?” His voice was hard.
“I don’t know. Because I thought I was your girlfriend.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend,” he replied coldly, and scooted further into the corner of her seat. Emma clasped her hands tightly and her lap and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, a little line of tears falling from each one.
posted by Elliott | 10:23 PM
2 Comments:
Great work Elliott!
You use lots of descriptive words to create vivid images for your readers but many times a bit too much. Cutting out excess adjectives to say precisely what you mean in as few words as you can will make your writing much more concise. For example, a "dusty yellow school bus" can simply become a "dusty school bus" because the yellow is implied. You've got a lot of talent and by carefully crafting each sentence to say exactly what you want to say, your writing will improve even more. Good luck!
-An admirer
So much of writing is a battle between beauty and logic... saying what is most pleasing to the ear versus what can be best reasoned with. Sometimes we even get lucky and can achieve both in a single, polished combination of succinct verbiage.
You know I'm one for the flowery language, but I would defend your choice for an additional reason. "Dusty" and "yellow" seem to consent to sharing a syntactical space much more easily than "dusty" and "school" do. That "y" on "sch" sound doesn't have the smooth transition you achieved through the words you chose, although the comment writer is admittedly correct in assuming that we picture the bus as yellow either way.
I'm assuming you made the decision deliberately, as although writers operate with words rather than numbers, they are generally careful in their calculations.
Your writing has a delicate precision, and I'm sure Johnny S. would be proud.
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