Flipped is a popular novel and movie for teenagers. It’s about a sweet “not-love” story between a boy named Bryce and a girl named Julianna. Their story starts at the age of eight and ends, well, who knows when if you write the sequel yourself!
“Bryce: Memories”
—Irene Liu
Afterreceiving the Nobel prize for studying perpetual motions, I could only sit in my rocking chair, recall the memories, and listen to my grandson complaining about the school and girls. Just as what my granddad did when he was my age. I knew how I felt for Juliana Baker was the same way my granddad felt for my grandma. I understood “every once in a while you find someone who’s iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.” However, my granddad lived with his rainbow but I didn’t. The time we spent together had become memories and a pity. I spent every day searching out of windows and recalling the days I spent with Julianna Baker—the poor neighbor, the disgusting stalkers, the one who told me to be a person more than those blue dazzling eyes, the one who made me flipped, and the one who changed my life.
After the basket boys’ dinner, I tried my best to talk and please Juli. She, however, either ignored me or escaped from me. I knew the reason exactly, but knowing that I couldn’t make up for it really made me furious with myself.
Finally one day, my chance for winning Juli back came. Mom took me to plants market to buy some rose seeds. Various flowers and leaves seemed no difference to me, so all I could think about was Juli. Abruptly, a seedling that was dreadfully familiar to me appeared in my sight. Without thinking, I could tell from the shape of leaves and the texture of trunk that it was a sycamore tree.
Wait! The sycamore tree. The entire world for Juli. That’s something she would be pleased to see. I asked Mom for money to buy snacks, but ran immediately away to buy the seedling.
As soon as I arrived at Collier Street, I hold the seedling tightly and rushed to the Baker’s house. Luckily, Mr. Baker opened the door for me and permitted me to plant the tree in their yard.
Planting a tree was biting off more than I can chew, but it was worthy suffering for Juli. According to what Mr.Baker said, I dug a hole to fit the root and put the seedling in it. While I was filling the hole with earth, I noticed that Juli was watching me through the French window in living room. I nodded at her as if to tell her not to worry about her yard and that I had changed quite a lot. It was a shame that she didn’t mean to help planting the tree, but I could decipher that she was astonished and excited.
When everything—filling the hole and watering the seedling—was done, I went home with a huge release and a sense of wonder.
The wonder has gone by the time I got home and waved to her through the window. She was standing in her room, looking at me through her window. Surprisingly, She waved back. The curve her hands looked like a picture of Michelangelo. I never truly understood its beauty but it just impressed me. For the first time since I met Juli, I realized that we never really talked or became friends. Nevertheless, everything would change tomorrow as we started to be true best friends.
When I got up, I felt like having a new birth. The sunshine was just right to fall on my bed and the sky was just right to look like
her eyes. I rummaged through my closet to find the most good-looking suit and jeans. I don’t want to look too old and rigid nor too young and immature. I matched clothes for half an hour and finally decided to wear my basket boy suit.
When I got to the dining table, I found my family talking about the move of the Bakers. “Morning Bryce, what a pity that you missed the goodbye of the Bakers.” Mom uttered as she handed me my plate. “What’s going on? Why they left? The relationship between us was just about to start!” I blurt out immediately. “Well, obviously there was something not normal with Mr.Baker’s retarded brother, so they must move to a slum even cheaper than their current dump to pay for the extra treatments for him” Dad said with unconcerned and derisive tone as usual.
I had so much to grumble and shout, but I said nothing. I had so much to feel, but I felt nothing. I lost her again or I never really had her. We kept passing by each other and kept looking back to seek each other. Why we couldn’t stop our steps to hold each other’s hands? Maybe, the only thing to reduce my pain was to improve myself and make her be proud of me in the future.
If I could go back in time, I wish I could meet her in the proper light
.