Creative Writing Internal

The need to call her, to contact her, to be with her is too strong. Ever since I left for sailing camp the thought of calling Alyssa has been on a constant loop in my mind, building speed like the trains that pull out of Grand Central Station. So much could change if I make the call. I mean she might decline or hang up as soon as she hears my voice, but if she didn’t; we could fix things. Our special bond, our family, and David, who I still haven’t spoken to since he broke my sister’s heart. Everything is on the line here. If this goes wrong I may as well just give up all hope of ever being family to her again. It’s worth a shot though, right?

You know what, screw it! I’m done wondering. I need to show her that I do care. Ever so much. She is the most important person to me in the whole world, and my love for her is everlasting. I’ll go now. Go to the dorm mistresses office, rap my knuckles on her hard polished oakwood door and enter with an air of authority. When she opens it I’ll tentatively ask for my cellphone. ‘One call a day.’ she’ll tell me and I’ll just slowly nod my head as I back away. But what if after all of that she just declines my call. The waterworks might start, and then I’d be the laughing stock of sailing camp and she would never know. That’s the heartbreaking thing; I know she cares. Deep down we still have our connection. The thing that whether we like it or not will keep us bound together until death. The blood that runs thicker than tar.

My feet, however, don’t seem to correspond with my brain. They feel awfully heavy as I drag my legs off my batman bed and slowly make my way towards the door. I need to change those sheets, they’re much too little boyish for me. After all, Lyss and I are nearly 16. Only a few months until we can drive. In New Zealand being 16 means you’re ‘legal’, whatever that means, so I guess there’ll be that too.

The unwieldy metal door of our bunkroom slams shut behind me. Its rubber lining squeaking as it connects with the soundproof strip inside the door frame. Footsteps echo out across the silent hallway, the soft patter of my worn-out trainers. The building is deserted, the rest of the kids attending this camp are either tucked up in their rooms, studying or more likely watching Netflix. I make my way out into the courtyard. A handful of students are gathered around the shed cleaning their gear from earlier today. My wetsuit and boat shoes have already been rinsed and are hung up on the camp washing line, so now is technically my free time.

The dorm mistresses office door stands, waiting, only two meters ahead. My feet stop in front of it, sensing a lack of motivation from me. “Come on!” I whisper to myself. This is so ridiculous. Alyssa doesn’t want to talk to me. “No! You can do this”. I take a long deep breath filling my lungs up with as much air and as much courage as possible. Raising my trembling fist, I rap on the solid oak door.