A Special Tune

I could never forget those pale blue-green eyes of his. The way they lit up when he laughed, and especially when he made eye contact with me. I always felt like he was looking right into my soul. He saw sides of me that no one else did, and he was my childhood best friend overall. The Florida night was cool under the trees of the campground where we stayed. We sat on camping chairs for Thanksgiving with my family and his. I can tell his mom hated coming out here, but it was our fathers who were good friends. His mom wasn't an outdoorsy person, you see. Blake and I loved it, camping tents, mosquitoes, and all. His family preferred the cabin or camper setting (primarily his mom), while my father and I settled for a tent. Blake insisted on tent camping that night with me. His parents reluctantly allowed him after they warned him he'd have no AC and would have to go to the bathroom in the woods. Blake just nodded, and we happily set up his tent right alongside mine. "Hey there, neighbor," I joked as I poked my head out of my tent. Blake laughed, and he admired his blue tent next to my red one. Our parents informed us they were heading to bed, and we should too. We said goodnight and went into our tents. I wasn't even lying down for five minutes when I heard Blake's voice. "You awake, Katiebug?" he used my childhood nickname for me. "I am now," I teased, sitting up in my sleeping bag. I pulled the zipper down on my tent, and he came crawling in. He wore his pajamas with his sandy brown hair damp from an earlier shower. His short strands were beginning to curl around his face. I suppose he was a cute twelve-year-old boy. His birthday was only ten days after mine in November, Thanksgiving only a few days after that, a busy month indeed. "You can't sleep?" I guessed as I wondered what he was doing in my tent. "I got you something," Blake said, excited, as he moved his hands out from behind his back to reveal two pieces of Snickers candy. He must have gotten it from one of the coolers. He grinned, "Nothing like a midnight snack, huh?" I smiled back and accepted the chocolate. We ate the sweet goodness in comfortable silence. "Do you think we'll always be friends?" he asked me suddenly. I turned to look at him, surprised he would ask such a thing. "Of course!" I exclaimed and squeezed his arm. "Always," he agreed, with eyes shining bright even in the darkness. **** FIVE YEARS LATER "I have tickets to see Blake Chambers!" a classmate of mine named Steven announced in the hallway at school. Immediately, students rushed up, claiming to buy the tickets from him. I frown as I nearly get tackled in the process of all the students running to get them. Steven, a seventeen-year-old guy with braces, grinned widely as he held the tickets above everyone's outstretched hands. I was surprised they didn't jump him. After nearly getting trampled, my friend Callie, who stood by my side, chuckled as I shook my head. "He's not even that good," I said, crossing my arms. "Tell that to them." Callie nodded to the girls and guys who swarmed around our classmate. "I don't want to get trampled." I laughed as we carried on throughout the hallway. The school day was over, and we were now heading out to go home. It was dismissal, and I wanted to get to my truck before the traffic worsened. Callie and I have been friends since we were kids. We were like sisters, and her mom was practically a mother to me while mine was too busy fighting with my father. It was those arguments that led her to leave us. Ever since then, it has just been my father and me. I tie my red hair into a ponytail and head off campus. "Are you coming to practice tomorrow?" Callie asked as we hopped in my old beat-up truck. It was a hand-me-down from my father. Nothing fancy, but I certainly liked it. "I'll see if my Dad needs me," I answered as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Callie failed her driver's test and doesn't have her license yet. School traffic wasn't bad. As for my old truck, I was just glad it had working AC in it. I couldn't care less about the radio, but it had Bluetooth that played my music from my iPhone. I enjoyed all kinds of music, with the genres of rap, pop, and country. My all-time favorite was country music, and I was told by people that I had a bit of a southern accent. It wasn't a shocker considering I grew up in Plant City, Florida, some would say home of the rednecks. Yes, my father owns a ranch and I help out a lot on it. I also do cheerleading, something I did as a kid with Callie, and I joined the school's team my freshman year after Callie talked me into trying out. To my great surprise, I made it, and I was hoping to get a scholarship. Our team was pretty good. I needed it to help me pay for college. Dad's been struggling with the ranch the last couple of years, with staff coming and going, and I had to stop my cheerleading to help him out. I was seventeen and I knew my father's ranch off the back of my hand. Some would definitely call me a farm girl through and through. Callie lived on the way home, so it was no problem dropping her off. I sang softly to the music on the radio as I drove. "When are you going to do something with that voice, huh?" Callie asked me suddenly. I squinted through the windshield as the Florida sun shone through the glass on me as I drove. "Something like what?" I wondered as I kept my eyes on the road. Callie leaned back in her seat and tugged at her seat belt, which I assumed was bothering her neck. "You got a killer voice, girl. I'm surprised you don't want to join the theater or chorus; it's not too late." I couldn't help but smile at Callie's words. I did have a nice singing voice. I honestly don't know where I got it from. One day, I was in church as a little girl, and I sang for the first time in front of the community for the Christmas Eve service, and ever since, I have been singing in my spare time. I enjoyed it and I felt free, I guess you can say. "I would, but you know, I don't have the time to cheer and the ranch," I reminded her. Home and Callie were only fifteen minutes away from school, so I pulled into her driveway of her home. Callie opened the truck door with a creak and hopped out. "Well, that is a shame," she said as she hooked her backpack over her shoulder. She smiled, and we waved goodbye as she walked into her house. I waited till she got in, and I pulled out of her driveway and out of her fancy neighborhood onto the big road to head home. I couldn't help but think of her words as I drove, and my home came into view. Yes, it certainly was a shame that I couldn't do more with my voice. Dad wanted me to go to college and pursue a more serious career. He was proud of my cheerleading success and really wanted me to get a scholarship; he hoped that I would go to USF. There was only one person who ever believed in my singing, and he was gone. But hearing his name again brought back the usual memories. Even the painful ones.