MoboReader > Adeventure > Ria, are you ok?

   Chapter 2 No.2

Ria, are you ok? By Bruno Maiorana Characters: 5271

Updated: 2018-04-10 12:02

Later that day we bought a small gardening shovel and a pair of black stereo headphones from a nearby shop and drove down to the beach to try them out together. We were both extremely excited: I was excited because we were going on our first real treasure hunt, and Mom was excited because I was.

The place was deserted. The sky was clearer than ever. The soft sand, the gentle waves, and the salty ocean breeze reminded us of how lucky we were to be there, to be together, to be alive. We scavenged the shore for about two hours. I pinpointed the location of an object with my metal detector and mom helped me dig it out. By the end of the day, we had found two dollars, thirty-six cents, twelve bottle caps and an old rusty hair clip. Not too bad for our first time.

On the way back home we stopped by a Thai restaurant to get a takeaway. Back at home, while we were eating, we made a list of all the spots in the city that would be a good place to go treasure hunting, including all the parks, playgrounds, beaches and open fields nearby. Then we debated about what we would do in case we found something really valuable, and wrote down a set of rules:

' - If the treasure is really pretty and valuable, we keep it for ourselves

- If it's ugly but valuable, we sell it

- If it's pretty but worthless, we give it to someone else as a gift.'

It was the perfect birthday. Even to this day, every time I thought of Mom, I would drive to the beach to look for treasures, grab some Thai food afterward, and spend a peaceful day at home reading or planning my next adventure.

4 – Peter

'...and the stainless-steel interior is designed to cleanse each fibrous strand of the fabric, protecting and leaving the cloth as soft as a monkey's bum after a fresh summer rain in the Vietnamese jungle. The smooth cleaning cycles, ranging from heavy duty to delicate, feature a socks-preserving function, guaranteeing that the number of socks which came out equaled the number of socks that came in at the start of the washing cycle.' Perfect.

When the review was finished, I called Mom to let her know I would be visiting her and Dad in the evening. It was a two-hour drive from Chicago to Milwaukee and there was still plenty of time, so I decided to take the scenic route.

After driving for an hour, I stopped at a café overlooking the harbor. There were no cats and no plain white T-shirt staff, just me, a tired-looking waitress and a teenage girl reading a hardcover at another table, a high school student probably. I wondered why wasn't she at school. She didn't look like the kind of girl to skip classes. Neithe

r did she appear to be waiting for anything or anyone, she was just there, just part of the landscape, no different from the waitress, coffee machine or myself.

She must have been sixteen or seventeen. She looked average and wore a blue tracksuit and a pair of snickers. Her short blonde hair was shiny and well brushed. It seemed that she cared more about her hair than she did about the rest of her outfit. She was more on the small side, and her body, even though still underdeveloped, exposed nothing but delicacy and elegance. A small blue backpack rested on the side of her chair. I hoped that, if I ever had a daughter, she would wear her hair like that every day.

I paid for my coffee, got into my car and opened the windows while thinking about the girl's hair. Maybe if I were a few years younger. Maybe if I weren't such a coward. Ok, that was it, no more maybes, I had just two more weeks until my journey started and my new life began. The new me, the me who would be brave enough to approach cute girls in coffee shops, would be born in two weeks' time, and until then I had to behave well and keep my appearance so that no one would notice what was growing inside me.

"Hi, excuse me. I need a ride to the city." The girl from the shop was standing outside the car door when I started the car. I had been so lost in my own thoughts that hadn't even seen her coming. She was looking into the car from outside, clutching her backpack and book with both hands, noticeably nervous. Her voice was vibrant and colorful, nothing like I'd imagined when I saw her earlier being engulfed by her book.

"I'm not going to the city. I'm heading to Milwaukee to see my folks, " I explained while admiring her hair, trying not to make it too obvious.

"Can I get a ride to Milwaukee then?" she asked as if she had anticipated my answer.

Could she? She appeared to be underage, but there was nothing about her that spelled trouble. She didn't look like a prostitute, I mean, she was even carrying a book. Every time I met a hitchhiker on the road I would give them a lift, it just felt like the right thing to do. If I was carrying a hundred sandwiches and there was a hungry person on my way I would just give them a few, there wasn't much to think about. I had four empty seats and I was going to Milwaukee anyway. There was no way I could live with myself if I ignored a person in need, especially when it wouldn't cost me anything to help them out. This girl was not your typical hitchhiker, she was something else. She was an opportunity, a chance for me to get out of my comfort zone in preparation for my trip.

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