The Fruit Salad
“Oh yes, I will!” said Summer. He wouldn’t let his friend doubt him; he knew he was the only one who could beat Ben Spoonfield in the bubblegum-blowing contest at school tomorrow. Ben was his biggest competition, not only because he was three years older but also because he was the school bully and constantly picked on Summer for having what he thought was a "girl’s name."
“I’ve been practising for months; watch,” he proceeded to blow a giant bubble right there and then.
“Woah. Mega!” said Tommy, Summer’s best friend. “It’s almost as big as my pillow!” It grew larger and larger until you couldn’t see Summer’s face anymore; all that was left was a vast pink sphere, now about the size of a beach ball. After proving this was a bubble that could last, he sucked it back into his mouth and stood there grinning proudly. They were in front of Seven Skies Sweet Emporium, their favourite hangout spot and purveyor of the finest bubblegum in town.
“Told ya,” Summer could tell Tommy was impressed; he only said "mega" when he was really blown away by something. Winning tomorrow was going to feel like he was winning for both of them. He kept chewing his gum and noticed how it now started to taste like victory.
The emporium started pulling down its shutters, which was a good indication it was time for them to be heading home.
“All right, I gotta shoot,” said Summer. He and Tommy lived pretty near to each other. Summer was on Apple Tree Lane, and Tommy was just across the field in the opposite direction on Strawberry Avenue. It always made them laugh; they said if they ever start a band one day, they’ll call themselves "The Fruit Salad." Tommy waved as he headed home. They were both super excited about the big day tomorrow!
As Summer approached his house, he rummaged his hand around the bottom of his school bag and fished out his key. Turning it in the front door, he stepped inside.
“Mum,” he called out softly. He could hear the sound of the television faintly coming from the front room. “You there, Mum?” he said, entering slowly.
“Hi, treacle,” she answered sleepily. She was sitting in a large beige sofa chair that seemed to completely engulf her. She stared at the television; a courtroom judge was giving her rage-filled verdict to a scamming boyfriend.
“Did you make them?” Summer asked.
“Make what?”
“The pancakes, it’s Thursday, you always make...” he paused. “Well, you used to make pancakes on a Thursday.”
“Oh,” she replied, still transfixed by the screen, “I’m sorry, Summer. I didn’t have the energy.”
Summer attempted to hide his disappointment, “Sure, Mum. No problem.” He was about to go to his room but then quickly spun back around. “Hey! Wanna see me blow a bubble? I’m gonna win tomorrow; I just know I am!” Summer hurriedly began unwrapping a fresh pack of bubblegum.
“Not now, sweetheart; I’m tired. Just let me finish my show.”
“But Mum.”
“I said not now, Summer!” she snapped at him, like she often did.
Summer begrudgingly went upstairs to his room; he climbed onto his bed and gazed up at the white ceiling. He thought it best to get in a little last-minute practice, so he took out that gum, threw it high into the air and caught it in his mouth with pinpoint precision. His mind relaxed as he began chewing. Before long, he was daydreaming about his impending triumph. The trophy goes to - Summer! The whole class picks him up and puts him onto their shoulders, carrying him around the school hall for a victory lap, happily cheering and chanting his name.
A large picture frame encasing a front-page news story leaned against the lamp by his bed. It read: Heroic Policeman loses his life defending the town of Littlehope.
“Goodnight, Dad,” he said as he stared at the photo of the smiling policeman, fresh out of police college. “Whatever case gets thrown at me, I’ll always complete the mission and do whatever it takes.”
He turned out the light and was soon asleep. His big day was fast approaching!
