TRIFOLD
The board lifts when the wind blows and strong gusts threaten to topple my small body over itself and into the puddles that accumulate on the sides of the road near my feet. I must stay on the side-walk if I hope to have any chance of making it to school.
But it is getting harder and harder to see the sidewalk ahead of me. My transition lens glasses are covered in cold rain. The only thing that guides me is a far-off stoplight that has just turned from red to green. I believe I am three blocks away from the school, but I cannot be certain.
Cars pass me by and splash rainwater from the puddles onto my uniform. I should have worn a coat. This city should have better drainage infrastructure. I get made fun of in class for using words like infrastructure. My mom says it’s not my fault that I’m a little bit smarter than the kids around me. I think she raises a good point.
If my classmates don’t like it when I use words like ‘infrastructure’ then they’re certainly not going to like the board I am currently using as an improvised umbrella. My science project for the sixth grade fair is all about the implications of nuclear-powered submarines on the global environment. It deserves so much more than to be a coatless-person’s umbrella. It may even deserve a first place ribbon.
My interest in the matter began while watching a basic-cable documentary on such submarines. A simply fascinating piece. I found the local library’s resources on the matter significantly lacking, but learned a good deal more from independent online research. Did you know that a nuclear-powered submarine that is improperly sealed may be emitting radiation leakage significant enough to transmute both its crew and fish that call the surrounding waters home?
The soles of my shoes are soaked. Everything squishes when I walk and I’ve still got two blocks left until I reach the front gate of my school. A few more cars have passed me by and splashed dirty rain-water all over me and my potentially prize-worthy board. My backpack is noticeably a few pounds heavier now that it is drenched entirely. All of the birds are seeking shelter in the bushes and trees. I wish I brought a coat.
I don’t believe we should cease the use of nuclear-powered submarines, my hypothesis clearly states as much. I just believe in advocating for enhanced scrutiny during the reactor-core sealing process. The ocean is, after all, our most valuable natural resource. I can’t stand to see it polluted more than it already is. Not to mention the possibility of a Godzilla-type situation in the not-too-distant future. I left that part out of my presentation because I was worried it would distract from the very real point I am trying to get across, though I don’t think it is entirely impossible. Also, the other kids would likely root for Godzilla.
One block away now.
There is something very special about walking alone in a storm. Especially when the rain is cold. Especially when your path is visible only briefly, when the lightning flashes. Especially when you’re carrying a science fair project that you have worked so very hard on for so many weeks. I’ve always taken great pride in my work but I believe it is safe to call this the pinnacle of my scholastic career. I think most of my classmates might be too preoccupied with the whole being wet of it all to appreciate just how special mother nature’s water cycle is. Without it, we’d all be dead. Still, I wish I brought a coat.
I’m nearing the front gates of the school now. I can see the car-line extending off into the road to my right. My classmates sit dry in their cars. Their science fair projects sit dry next to them. The rain obstructs my view, so I cannot be certain, but I think I saw a potato clock and a paper-mâché volcano. I’d say something condescending here if I weren’t raised to be such a big person.
I make my way up the school’s front staircase, careful not to step in any puddles as I go. I can see Miss Julie, my science teacher, just a few steps ahead. Suddenly, a strong gust picks up underneath me. It catches the board in my hands.
My project and I spin uncontrollably. Miss Julie watches in stunned silence as I feel my feet lift off the ground. Lightning strikes in the distance. I’m being lifted higher and higher as the winds push me and my board up and into the air.
I try to hold onto to it as tight as I can but the soggy cardboard rips and I find myself falling back to earth. Twenty-ish feet or so.
A few seconds after impact I realize I am now holding only two folds. The middle one has taken off into the sky. Winds lift it higher and higher until I can barely make it out and it joins the booming storm that circles endlessly around me. We live near the coast. It will likely be blown out into the ocean when the storm subsides.
I think I would like to cry now.
You can feel the struggle and the solace!
I like you details. You took me there. Thank you.