Renny Boy

The last day of summer was always sad to me. It was always just this lonely Sunday where I knew I couldn’t start anything huge because I knew I’d have to go to bed early and just lay there in bed staring at the ceiling. What a buzzkill. I never liked Sundays mostly for that reason – you had to go to school the next day. But the Sunday before school started was always the worst.

Mom and Dad were sitting on the back porch looking into our backyard, which really wasn’t much to look at. It was basically just a fenced-off chunk of land that was overshadowed by trees, much like the rest of our neighborhood, and probably the main reason why I didn’t have an ounce of pigment in my skin. Because trees blocked out the sunlight, our house always looked overcast.

There was this big lake a few feet away from the boundaries of our backyard that we shared with a few of our neighbors. I think it was a retention pond, so I never went in it. I was always scared I’d walk in with two legs and walk out with tentacles.

Claymore has this funny way of just being possibly the most depressing place in the world. I can count on one hand the number of times I’d seen the sun shining without some clouds tossed in the sky. And not only is the entire place always overcast, but there are trees everywhere. If you ever think to yourself, my goodness, I could really use a tree right now, come to Claymore. We got trees between houses, trees in our lawns, trees shading the neighborhood signs in leafy shadows – the point is, we could run our own paper factory there.

I don’t know what the heck it was about the town, since you could drive down to Green Cove or into Orange Park and instantly be blinded by sun, but Claymore must’ve had its own little special constant raincloud. I didn’t mind it so much, but it got kind of annoying when relatives came down from Maine and crap and they were tanner than I was. Although I guess it was better than melting in Florida’s relentless heat every time I walked outside.

I could hear my mother’s voice from inside and decided not to join them. I didn’t feel like talking. All I wanted to do that day was just savor my last day of freedom before I had to ride the bus to the place elementary school warned me about.

But what else did I have to do? Nothing. Absolute jack crap. I was bored out of my brains. Didn’t feel like singing (what idiot wants to lose their voice just in time for seventh grade? Not me), the Internet was boring, my SkyPod was busy charging, and I had no friends to call up or talk to. What a way to spend the last day of summer. I was one happenin’ kid.

Sigh.

I stood looking out the window for a moment before realizing that the extremely rare sight of the sun blazing in the late summer Claymore sky was too sad for me to look at any longer. It cast its shadows among the trees and the street in front of my house was speckled with little flecks of yellow and grey dots where the leaves of the trees were. It almost felt like I was actually living in Florida and not in some black sheep town amongst the Jacksonville suburbs. Biting my lip, I sighed. Again.

All of a sudden my mom practically smashed our backdoor open and grinned upon seeing me. She pushed her sunglasses atop her head and flipped the poofy mass of dyed-red hair that I’m thankful I didn’t inherit. “Honey, you’re missing it! The weather is beautiful!” she gushed.

“Doesn’t matter, the trees are in the way of the sun,” I shrugged, muttering the words with little enthusiasm.

“Your father’s gonna take care of that next weekend and then we can finally do something about that monitor tan you’ve earned, Ren,” she teased, “but c’mon. Just go out there and talk with your father.”

I shuddered on the inside. What do you get when you mix a basically mute 39-year-old man with his painfully shy 12-year-old son? Absolute silence. I guess Mom didn’t catch on to that. “Um, mom…” I trailed off.

Too late. She was already prancing off somewhere else, either ignoring me or just not hearing me.

Grumbling a few choice words to myself, I went out to the back porch and met eyes with my dad, who was lounging in a mossy lawn chair. He smiled for a half-second before going back to the father I knew so well and was more alike with than I’d like to admit.

I waved a little and sat down next to him. Guess what happened next? C’mon, guess. You’re probably gonna get it right.

Neither of us spoke.

Congratulations, you’ve won the grand prize, lucky reader.

I hate to say it, but there’s a reason why my mom is mentioned so much more than my dad. See, it beats the hell out of me why they hit it off, but they’re complete opposites. Mom’s pretty insane, and Dad’s just like me – quiet. Both of them get out more than I do, though.

Well, at least I know for a fact he’s my real father, I guess.

We basically just sat there for about ten minutes in silence as the soft summer breeze evaporated some of the sweat off our foreheads. Even in the shade in Florida, you’ll sweat through your shirt, so it was a huge relief. My thumbs were busy twiddling in my lap and a noodly song was playing over and over in my head, and every so often I looked over at my dad and saw the same solitary expression. Blank.

Finally, he reached over and gently touched my arm. “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” I stuttered. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, you’re not talking.”

“And you are talking?”

Dad laughed a little and said, “Touché.”

I smirked back at him and we fell into another silence. Surprise.

“No, I mean, are you nervous about school?” he asked, getting back on subject. “I know you’re kinda shy and there’s gonna be a lot of people tomorrow…”

I almost said no. But then I remembered something – this guy sorta kinda raised me and would call my bluff. “Well…a little,” I mumbled. “I mean, it’s like…uh…yeah.”

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

He shrugged again and crossed his arms. “It’s nothin’ to worry about. All it is is just like a bigger elementary school. And high school’s like a bigger junior high.”

I furrowed my brow at him. “How do you remember crap from your junior high days?”

“I’m not that old, Ren,” he stated flatly, giving me a deadpan look. “Hell, I’ll bet you money I’m younger than all the parents of the kids at your school.”

A crooked smile crept onto my face. “Okay then…”

Dad blushed and scrambled to change the subject, leaning forward in his seat and mimicking my position – hands in lap, elbows resting on my knees. “No, but seriously. Don’t worry at all. Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually make some friends this year.”

“I have friends!” I backfired, feeling my face heat up. You know, it’s pretty bad when even your parents know you don’t have any friends.

He raised a lone eyebrow at me for a second and then laughed, punching my shoulder. “I’m kiddin’ around with you, kid. But remember what I said. Don’t worry.”

I bit my lip and tried to ease my fears on my own. After taking a deep breath my heartbeat slowed down.

“Things are never as bad as you make ‘em out to be. Trust me,” he finished.