Cameron's Characterization Entries

There she sits looking intently at her computer screen. Her blonde hair flows down her back like a river and rests just above her waist. Her piercing blue eyes follow the words she reads back and forth, back and forth in a typewriter like fashion. She sits at a table of four, but the seats next to her are empty. Maybe it’s the white earbuds hidden under that golden hair that sends such a social signal. Maybe it’s the concentration. Or maybe, it’s her beauty that causes the boys to be so reserved around her. Nevertheless, her presence is known by many in the room, but they don’t dare disturb her.

The sun shines bright in the west as the golden hour approaches. The boy rushes inside to grab that which he has been waiting for all day. “It’s almost that time!” he exclaims. Excitedly, he digs through the excess of toys that mom had just cleaned up off the floor. Pushing the dump truck out of the way, then the tractor, then the Legos, he seeks his prized possession. Toys now scattered across the surface of his bedroom floor, frantically searching, he can’t find it. “I need to show dad” he sobs, tears streaming down his face, baby teeth wrapped around his bottom lip. “It’ll be ok” his mother responds patiently anticipating the arrival of the boy’s father. Finally, the rumble of the white work truck makes its way up the winding road. His dad jumps out of the car with the boy’s baseball mitt in hand. “Ready to play?” the father says cheerfully. Tears on the boy’s face are immediately swept away. “You found it!” he exclaims, jumping for joy.

Moonrocks, Nevada. A place where any urbane would dread, but for he who loved riding dirt bikes, it became a heaven on earth. The boy looks down at the orange and black plastics that garnish the interior engine of his KTM and appreciation floods over him at the return to the high desert. He’s wearing a helmet, pads, and most importantly, riding boots. He’s got a thirst for speed, at times too much according to the boy’s mother. Excitement flowing through the teen’s body he mounts the maniacal machine. “Remember,” the boy’s father tells him “you crash and there will be no more riding for you.” He gives the boy a stern talk, reminding him that he has hemophilia. “Yes father, I know” the boy responds with annoyance and he blasts off with no hesitation.