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Joy of Medina County Magazine | February 2018
CHAPTER 1
TH E READ I NG N O O K
I opened the door to the bowling alley’s restroom only to discover the last thing I’d ever expect to be in a bowling alley restroom. There, with her head hanging out of the open ventilation shaft on the ceiling, with her long, brown hair swaying gently, was Marissa Colt. Marissa Colt was a 17-yearold high school junior who got straight B’s in all her classes, went to almost every Friday night football game, was hated by few, and liked by most. She was just about five-and-a-half feet tall with deep brown eyes and subtle curves that accentuated her thin figure. Basically, she was just an average teenager. “Sorry. Is this, um, occupied?” I stuttered, closing the door halfway. She spun her head around, and her eyes widened when she realized she had gotten caught doing whatever she was doing. “Nope! I was just leaving,” she replied as she gripped the grate of the vent and flipped out of the shaft, landing on her feet as agile as a cat. She stood up and smiled at me and then pushed past me as I stood in the doorway. I had no idea what had just happened, but as I watched her walk away, I realized I really wanted to find out. But whatever she had been doing was clearly not meant for anyone else to know about, and I wasn’t one to press things, so I stepped into the restroom and locked the door
behind me. I lifted the vent’s cover back to where it should be and tightened the screws so that no one would know it had been opened. Afterward I relieved myself and then left the restroom. “Weirdo,” I commented under my breath as I headed back to my friends who were sitting there waiting for me to take my turn. “What took you so long, Cam?” Devin asked me as I stuck my fingers into the bowling ball. “Nothing. What do you mean?” I shot back, hoping I didn’t seem too defensive. “Just take your turn, jerk,” Garret said, motioning toward the pins. I glanced at the scoreboard to find just what I had expected. Garret was in the lead by a good margin, Heath was in a solid second, and Devin and I were fighting for last place. The scores were almost always the same, but we didn’t mind. We had gone bowling like this every Saturday since eighth grade, and it was still a blast every time. I rolled the bowling ball down the lane and shot a finger gun at the first pin as I listened to the gentle rumble. The ball crashed into the side of the pins, knocking over the six leftmost ones, and leaving the other four untouched. I had never been good at bowling. “Nice try!” Garret clapped twice, “Next time try to hit the pins!” The others laughed, and I glared at him playfully as I retrieved a second ball to send down the lane. I hit two more pins with the second ball, and Garret continued to heckle me, but none