Soria Girl

I can’t say that there’s a better time of year than summer. Maybe it’s just the California girl in me (do not mention that damn Katy Perry song – that song wasn’t even out when this all happened), but school’s out, the air’s warm, and there’s more time than I can handle. And there’s really no greater way to chill than to shoot baskets in the driveway, when the cement is almost white-hot.

The orange orb bounced off the backboard with a metallic thud, circling the rim and finally slipping into the net.

“Holla!” Brendan cheered, picking up the ball again to try another shot. It slammed against the pole this time and ended up in Ren’s hands. He tossed it to me and I made it sink in effortlessly.

“Can you believe summer’s here already? We got it kicked off with that air show and I’m still kind of out of it,” Luke said, catching it on the rebound.

“No, I can’t,” I replied.

Brendan tripped getting the ball but threw it to Ren. “I can barely remember anything,” he laughed.

“It just went by so fast,” Ren said, dribbling it a few times then throwing it into the hoop. “But at least this time, we’ll have something to do.”

We all knew exactly what he was talking about. This was our first summer we could spend as Plaster Caster – the nearly famous group of former losers. (Minus Luke. He was more of a winner than the rest of us.) It was exciting, knowing that people actually looked up to us.

I hated to admit it, but I was kind of excited for school to start back up. We’d be twice as cool as the normal eighth graders, and maybe get twice the respect. None of us really stood out alone, but as Plaster Caster, we ruled. I never expected to meet those guys and make my life what it was. They were the main reason I loved Claymore and the main reason why I hate dwelling on this little ordeal I have to narrate.

I caught the ball and – swish - nothing but net. “Nice,” Luke said, looking at his watch. With a gasp, he departed. “Whoa - I gotta get home.”

He waved goodbye as he rode his scooter out of the driveway, a few streets over to his house. It was getting pretty late in the afternoon, around six PM, so I couldn’t blame him. Of course, Luke’s foster parents were real laid back and super religious, but sometimes I suspected he was more structured than they were.

Ten minutes later, Brendan decided he was tired and walked home to a totally different neighborhood.

It was just me and Ren shooting the breeze - and hoops - in my driveway. His mom was due any minute to pick him up, but as usual, he was as quiet as a banana.

“So what’s up?” I said to him in an attempt to make him talk.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“You gotta start talkin’ more.”

He smiled and looked at the ground like he was thinking real hard. “Eh…I just don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” I asked.

“I don’t know what to do with all this time. Like, I’m bored all summer, and in the end I regret it.”

“Well, you got us this time around. And this’ll be the best summer we’re ever gonna have,” I reassured.

Ren looked at me and smirked just as his mom pulled up to the edge of the driveway. She rolled down the window.

“Ren, honey, come on!” she shouted, and he said goodbye as they rolled out of the neighborhood. I laughed a little since he always seemed embarrassed by her, but I thought she was funny. She was a flower child, a hippy back in the day from what he tells me. His family revolved around music. He was raised on a soundtrack, and I admired him for that.

The sun was setting and the streetlights lit up as if they had a sixth sense for darkness. I took the hint and went inside the house, tossing the basketball aside in the grass.

Within seconds I was back in my house, but something was odd. I could tell since my dad was just standing in the kitchen, all silent with the phone in his hands. The TV wasn’t on, but he was smiling sadly like he kept doing at the air show.

I raised an eyebrow, curious at what was going on. And as I walked closer to Dad, his smile widened, becoming faker and faker until I couldn’t take it seriously anymore.

“Soria,” he said, leaning on the countertop and sighing like he’d just run a mile, “I know you miss Santa Monica. And I know you like Claymore too, but…” He clenched his teeth. “We’re…moving back….”

I wanted to scream. I could almost hear my heart splashing into my stomach and churning the acids up into my esophagus. To this day I can still recall what it was like to hear my world breaking in half.

“…What?”

“We’re moving in a week. I…”

I didn’t know what to say. I mean…how are you supposed to respond to something like that? God knows if I said the first word that popped in my head, I’d get grounded.

“Wha…what?” I stammered.

“We’re moving,” he urged. There was no smile, no frown, just blankness and paleness swept across his face. The fake grimace had gone.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. I’ve got the email and phone message.”

The way he was staring at me let me know that this was serious business.

“Why do I not believe you…?”

He rolled his eyes and got his laptop for work out. After a minute of waiting for it to boot up, he got on the Internet and opened up the email from the navy that let me know that he was indeed dead serious.

And I sort of felt like I was going to faint.

Tears were starting to bunch up in my throat and threatened to crash out of my eyes. I blinked them back as hard as I could, but as the computer screen blurred more and more I realized that there wasn’t a thing I could do. I hate hormones. Of all the times to cry like a little bitch, that was not one of the best.

I sobbed loudly. Dad looked like he soiled himself in shock.

“I-I can’t…I can’t believe this. You…I…I don’t wanna go back!”

That was the last thing I said before storming up to my room in a fit of confusion. I slammed the door and the walls shook, syncing up to the shaken state of my mind.

I slid to the floor against the door and buried my head in my hands, crying so damn hard I ran out of tears within three minutes. I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t crying softly either. I was sobbing like a baby, man.

But what can I say? I couldn’t…I couldn’t believe that actually happened. Freakin’…freakin’…I moved once. That was enough.

It was that kind of thing that takes you off-guard so badly that when you look back on it, it seems surreal. Like you were living in a dream for that whole day and never really hits you until it spontaneously dawns on you that you weren’t tripping balls, your life is very real and is about to go straight downhill.

To make matters worse, my dad put off telling me until a week before it happened. I know crap like that just doesn’t get sprung on you on such short notice. I just remember that day so clearly. Any dipstick who knew me and grew up with me didn’t need brains to know that I couldn’t care less if Santa Monica grew a mouth and sang a song begging me to come back. As of that day, there was nothing that could coax me to leave Claymore with a smile.

I knew he meant well. Back when we first moved, I never smiled, even though he did his best. I just missed our old home too much at the time, not to mention the random chick he picked up just for the hell of it. It wasn’t like she was a mean person or anything, but…it…it just unnerved me. I didn’t want another mom. If anything, I wanted my old mom back. But I knew that wasn’t gonna happen, and so basically I came to this conclusion: I didn’t want another mom, period. I just wanted to adjust to living with the dad who was always away at sea when I was a kid. That was it.

And I actually told my dad about it. And he understood. Things snowballed from there.

That was way cool of him. But this? Oh, this totally cancelled it out.

I guess there was a reason for it. I mean…it’s the military we were talking about. I don’t know what would have happened if he turned down that god awful stationing call, and I’d rather not find out. We’d likely get taken to some kind of government hideout in the most remote corner of the world.

But he knew I used to hate Claymore, so I guess he just gave up at trying to make me crack a smile, but now I loved this place. Didn’t he know I had friends? Didn’t he see me grin every time I got home from school?

Didn’t he see Plaster Caster rock out to the song I wrote, which would never have happened if we didn’t move?

Hating this place was ancient history by now. Dad was blind if he didn’t see those things, and if he was for real, I wasn’t buying it.

I knew, right then and there, that there was a reason for his sudden aging at the air show – this was what he was hiding from me.

After relentlessly emptying my tear ducts, I resisted the urge to go back outside of my room to come face-to-face with my dad. I didn’t wanna see him. And I didn’t want to say goodbye to Ren, Luke, and Brendan - I mean, for God’s sake, they were my brothers.

But the door opened and Dad slowly walked in, sitting on my bed. He laid a hand on my forearm and I turned away. “Soria…I knew you’d be sad. But there are a lot of benefits, and…I mean, c’mon. We’re going back home,” he whispered.

“How could you do this? Claymore’s my home. I don’t want to go back,” I said best I could. Dad froze and looked at the floor.

“Soon you’ll understand.”

And then he left.

An hour ago, Luke asked me if I could believe it.

No, I can’t.