Fireworks

Fireworks. I always hated fireworks. Oh, why lie? I always hated Independence day! It’s a pointless holiday. We got our independence from England, so what? It’s not like we still hate them and they hate us. Why keep celebrating. And July fourth is supposed to be when we gained our freedom, but that’s not true! The Declaration of Independence wasn’t completed and signed until mid-August. So we’re celebrating our almost independence?
And fireworks! They are loud and annoying. I hate fireworks.
“Hey, Emily.”
I spun away from the poster displaying brightly colored fireworks that was hanging on the supermarket wall. Standing in front of me was Ian.
“Hi, Ian,” I said dully.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Why on Earth is he talking to me? I groaned in my head, I barely talk to him! I keep my distance from people like him. It’s the unspoken rule!
“The sky,” I responded with the same flat tone I had used before.
“Funny,” he didn’t laugh, though.
“Yeah,” I turned to walk away but he caught me by the arm.
“Want to come to my Independence Day party?” he asked hopefully.
Of course not! I told myself.
“That depends,” I said slowly, “When is it?”
“July fourth,” he said.
“No. Way,” my sarcasm was obvious.
“At six,” he clarified.
“At night?”
“Yeah,” he nodded enthusiastically, “You like night time, right?”
That is so stereotypical. Just because I wear black and hate the sunlight and stand in shadows doesn’t mean I like night time.
“Yeah, I do,” I said.
“Cool,” he gave me a thumbs up, “So you’ll come?”
“No,” I said bluntly and walked away. As I turned the corner at the end of the shopping aisle, I stealthily looked back at Ian and saw that he had a look of disappointment on his face. What’s his problem?
For some reason when Independence Day arrived I kept checking the clock and at six o’clock I looked outside and down the street at Ian’s house. I didn’t see anyone. No party guests arriving. Ian was too popular to have no guests coming to his party. He wasn’t the most famous guy in school, but he had a decent amount of friends. He wasn’t the kind of guy I totally hated, but his friends were those kinds of guys. Maybe he doesn’t have any friends, I said happily to myself, or maybe they’ve deserted him. Why was I so happy to see he might not have any loyal friends? Or was I happy? Not really.
Ian’s front door opened and he walked out onto the grass in his front yard. He hung his head and his shoulders hunched dejectedly. Then he looked at my house. I flipped the curtain of my window shut before he could see me. He’s not actually expecting me to come, is he?
So I walked into my living room, determined not to let Ian see me watching him, and turned on my T.V. The only thing to watch was a nonstop marathon of the movie Independence Day or the Disney Channel.
Then I heard fireworks…in my front yard.
I’m going to kill that kid.
I stormed out my front door and looked at the little fireworks being set off in my driveway. Through the smoke and the lights I could see Ian.
“I hate fireworks!” I yelled at him.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I know.”
“So why are you setting them off in front of my house!” I screamed.
“Because you hate them,” he said simply.
“So this is a death wish?” I marched toward him
“No,” he said slowly, “I just wanted to show you what is so great about fireworks. I want you to see them in a whole new light.”
“All right,” I sighed, “Tell me. What is so good about fireworks?”
“They’re beautiful,” he said, “They illuminate the sky in celebration. They bring joy. They’re a beacon of hope and peace.” He slid his hand into mine and I looked up into his eyes where the fireworks were reflected. No, no, no, no, no.
“Yeah,” I pulled away and looked out over the empty grass, “Whatever.” But it was true: I would never see fireworks exactly the same way again.