When I was eleven years old, I thought my world was coming to an end. All because of a spring dress and a tacklebox.

"Daddy, this is stupid! I ain't like no girls goin with us!"

My father, a tall and skinny man, let out a hefty laugh behind the thick cigar caught between his teeth. The grease stained, long sleeve shirt he wore swayed in the wind, coated in thick layers of sweat. He finished tightening a bolt in the engine of our old truck before turning to look at me, taking the cigar out of his mouth.

His dry lips perked together as he sent a piffle of smoke into the bright blue sky.

"Tuck, she's new here. Ain't got no friends."

He reached over, grabbing his cup of sweet tea, ice cubes clinking against the glass.

"Now, I done invited her already. So, you and your friends be nice now, ya got it?"

Leaning against the hood of the vehicle, he pointed the cigar in his fingers at me, smoke rising lazily from its tip.

"If I hear my boy was anythin short of a perfect gentleman, there'll be hell to pay. Is that understood, Tuck?"

I grit my little teeth together, tightening my fingers around the old fishing rods in my hand.

"Y-Yes, sir…" I mumbled, looking down at the dead grass under my feet, far too scared to make eye contact.

This is stupid...

By the time I walked out of our old picket fence, paint chipping in more places than not, that new girl was already making her way through the field directly towards me.

Her hand shot into the sky like a majestic arrow, a wide smile spread across her face. The only thing she seemed to have with her was a tacklebox, staind with old orange mud, but clearly scrubbed furiously in a desperate attempt to somehow clean it. The old tackle bounced off of her hip with every step she took, her pace hurrying into a quickened jog.

"Hey!" She yelled, waving her arm like a pendulum through the air.

I scoffed and looked away, continuing my walk towards the alcove hidden in the distance, pretending I didn't hear her at all.

The patter of her little feet grew closer and closer, slowing down before reaching me, the tacklebox by her side jingling and jangling along the way.

"Sorry for running late!" She said between her soft pants of breath.

With those words, I instantly realized something very strange about her...

Her voice was odd. It did not sound right to me. Each one of her word had a strange inflation and twist you would never hear in Louisiana.

I turned towards her with a raised eyebrow, my mind still processing how someone could sound so different than what I was used to.

To my shock, I had to actually tilt my head and look up to see her face. She was tall… very tall for an eleven year old. The girl practically towered over me.

Across her face was that same beaming smile she was wearing a moment before, her cheeks beginning to grow red from the strain of maintaining the grin. She had long blonde hair that danced in the gentle breeze flying by, flowing behind her like a lazy curtain.

I couldn't really comprehend what I was actually looking at. I mean, on the surface, she was just a normal girl. The same as all the other ones I went to school with. But, something about her was just... different.

Her smile...

Her eyes...

Her very presence...

I felt a burning heat equal to that of the sun raising in my cheeks the moment i locked onto her bright blue eyes. The tips of my ears lit up just as quickly, like a steaming tea kettle ready to start it's whistle.

I had never once in my entire life up to that point had experienced something like that.

S'wrong with me?

Her smile began to fade as she raised her free hand to her mouth, and cleared her throat.

I just realized I had been staring slack jawed at her for an extended period of time...

"W-Well, my name is Charlotte. It is a pleasure to meet you."

I shook my head, trying to snap myself back to reality

"Y-Yeah… Tucker. Call me Tuck. Everyone does... Suppose you's can too."

My voice was scratchy and uneven as I tried, in vain, to keep my eyes off of the girl that made my face burn.

All I wanted to do was find something... anything to focus on besides her. For something in our backwater little town to distract me in a significant way.

With my eyes frantically darting all around like a scared field mouse, eventually my gaze landed on her free hand.

Wait... why's she only got a tackle?

"Where's your pole?" I asked.

She chuckled under her breath, rubbing the back of her skinny neck.

"Well, that's the thing… I... um… don't have one." She let out another awkward, forced chuckle before continuing.

"Your father mentioned to my brother that you had a spare lying around for me to use. My mum and I never were big on this kind of thing you see."

Mum?

I ignored her strange pronunciation, too frustrated with my father going and offering my stuff to strangers, without even talking to me about it.

"How you got a tackle, but no rod? That don't make no sense. S'like havin nails with no hammer." I responded, instinctively holding my fishing rods further away from her.

A childish game of keep away.

She looked down at the stained tacklebox dangling from her hand. The muck and grime across the surface of it seemed to bother her somewhat.

"Well, after my brother told me of the invitation, I stated rummaging through his shed. Which was quite filthy I might add. This was all I found. I didn't know what else to look for honestly. I was utterly lost, I tell you."

Her voice was starting to really annoy me, using strange words and stringing them together like she was in some theater show or something.

"Why you talk like that?" I asked, quite bluntly.

I guess she thought that was funny, considering she couldn't help but chuckle behind her dainty hand.

"Have you never heard of England before?" She asked, her words laced with disbelief.

I looked up to the lazy clouds overhead, thinking to myself for a moment.

England...

I recalled our instructor at the schoolhouse mentioning something about something like that.

Hm... oh, wait!

"Oh… You the folks who tried to tax us, right?" I snapped my fingers, suddenly feeling somewhat proud of myself.

"Tea and queens, right?" I continued.

She looked slightly offended by my words.

"That was ages ago, Tucker. You do know the year is nineteen fifty-three right? We don't live in ancient history."

Okay... rude...

The wider world might as well have been outer space to little ole Tucker Greenwood. To me at the time, all that really mattered was fishing and boats.

"I ain't care bout no fancy wigs and all that! Stupid anyways!"

I clicked my tongue, trying to hide the embarrassment I suddenly felt.

She laughed like I had made a joke that caught her off guard. Her hand waved just infront of her mouth like she was swatting away my comment.

"Those old wigs really are silly looking, arent they?" She said between the soft chuckles escaping her lips.

Looking up at her smile, the way her shoulders bounced with each giggle made my face begin to heat up again.

Why does her laugh burn my chest?! She givin me the flu or somethin?

After giving her a few seconds to stop her incessant laughter, I looked down at the fishing rods in my hand.

Fine...

Biting down on my lip, I grabbed one of the poles, and held it out towards her.

"Here… only cus' my daddy'll kill me if I don't..."

She looked down at the faded black handle which was thoroughly coated in thick layers of dry mud and gunk.

Her face scrunched up tight as she leaned away from it, her fingers dangling into a weak defense infront of her.

S'wrong with her?

"Somthin wrong?" I said, instinctively leaning closer to the shivering girl, a curious raise in my brow.

"N-No! I'm f-fine!"

She sure didn't sound fine.

She slowly reached out, grabbing the pole with the very ends of her fingertips, her eyes closed tighter than a bear trap.

"T-Thank you." She muttered.

Stranger still, she looked at the pole with a newfound confusion. Like the rod was whispering secrets to her. She kept glancing back and forth between the pole in her hand, and the one in mine.

"Hm..." She humphed under her breath.

What on earth is she doin?

I rolled my eyes.

"You girls all the same. Moment anything has dirt, you squirm like a tick on a pin."

Her face quickly grimmaced, cheeks puffing out like they were stuffed with cotton balls.

She looked like a chipmunk.

"That is not true!" She snapped, clearly annoyed with my observations.

"Then hold that pole like it don't bother ya."

Her flimsy grip tightened, the handle finally laying flat against her palm.

"S-See… no big deal… a-at all..." Her face was doing nothing to assist her fake bravado.

Figures...

I let out a chuckle, watching some prim and proper girl met mud for what very well might have been the first time in her entire life.

We made our way up the steep hill filled with tall weeds, past the broken down pile of old wood that I think used to be a barn, and through the line of mossy trees, finally exiting the thick brush into my favorite place on earth.

The alcove.

"Ay! Tuck, you finally made it!" A voice rang just below the hill leading to the water past the forest trail.

I lit up instantly, quickly running through the tall grass and towards that familiar voice coming from the shoreline.

A relief washed over me the moment I saw my two best friends, Andrew and Dennis holding their fishing poles with bright smiles across their faces.

"Yeah, sorry bout that, fellas! Daddy had me bring that new girl along with me."

With curiosity laced in their expressions, they looked past me and towards Charlotte.

She was holding up the bottom of her dress, trying her best to keep it out of the softening dirt she had just suddenly found herself in.

Andrew and Dennis instantly sighed at the sight of her, their shoulder dropping like I had just ruined their whole day with the news.

"Ah, Tuck! You know them girls ruin all the fishin!" Andrew said, his teeth already grinding together.

"Yeah, they's scare em off with they's perfume and junk!" Dennis added, kicking a small pebble towards Charlotte.

Luckily, she didn't notice. The last thing I wanted was one my more brash friends to do the scaring off. I knew I would end up being blamed all the same.

A sigh escaped my lips as I glanced over my shoulder towards her.

It seemed that a sticky bit of grass had stuck itself to her dress. She was fighting it as if it was a snake that had wrapped itself around her leg. Her tacklebox was being rattled all around during that frantic panic she was having, filling the air with an annoying barrage of claking and banging.

You's ain't doin anythin to help me here, Charlotte...

"I know's it..." I sighed, unable to take my eyes off of the, quite sad, panic attack she was having over... grass.

Oh brother...

I turned back towards them.

"Listen fellas, dad'll kill me if she ends up runnin home cryin. So, please just ignore the princess. She's usin my pole after all." My words were whispered as I held out my hand to block my mouth from Charlotte's view. I didn't want her to read my lips and run off.

They both just stuck their tongues out, sending an annoyed patter towards me before turning back to the water.

"Just keep her away from us. Ain't got time to babysit no lady." Andrew said, running his hand through his messy black hair with a shake in his head.

They both began to walk into the distance along the shore, choosing to fish far away from us. It was like Charlotte had given me a contagious disease or something.

Some friends they are...