True Friendship (A Short Story, Part One)

Hello everyone! I’m very excited about this week’s post, since it’ll be something a little out of the norm. Instead of posting a non–fiction article, I’m going to be sharing a short story with you all!

I spent over ten weeks working on this short story which is titled, “True Friendship.” (The ten weeks included brainstorming, outlining, editing, and much more! The actual writing didn’t take nearly that long). Since it’s pretty long, I’ll be posting it over the course of three weeks. I hope you enjoy it!

Bridget looked out the window and her soft green eyes clouded over. The dreariness of the day matched her unpleasant mood, for she felt as lonely as ever. As she looked around, she saw the large town bustling with activity. Blacksmiths were stoking their fires, men on horses were hurrying to their jobs, and the local doctor was opening up his office. 

But one thing in particular caught Bridget’s eye: the kids outside looked as though they were having so much fun, all playing happily together. If only that could be her…

“Bridget! Pay attention.” Miss Byrne snapped. “Did you even hear what I said, young lady? It is very important that you understand the history of your beautiful homeland! How do you expect to pass that very important exam you have coming up if you don’t know what you’re learning about?” the tutor just sighed and continued on when her passionate words evoked no response in her young pupil.

“Like I was saying, when…” but her teacher’s words were once again forgotten as Bridget settled back into her little world of daydreaming. Stupid summer school! She propped her chin up on her hand and sighed quietly.

As much as she liked learning, the amount of pressure her mother and special instructors put on her was a bit overwhelming at times. 

The second her private class ended, she gathered her books and assignments, and walked outside. She could tell based off of the activity in the town square that she would be waiting a little while for her mother.

Bridget sighed, knowing she was supposed to sit in boredom until her mother would pick her up; but she wasn’t ready to wait quietly today.

Disregarding every word her mother had said about not playing with children she didn’t know, she dropped her books and took off running toward the kids who had been playing outside the window.

“May I play?” She approached a girl about her age.

“Sure! What’s your name? I’m Ava.” Ava smiled at her, and Bridget immediately noticed how pretty and kind the smile was. There was nothing stuck–up or aloof about this girl–she seemed different. Even though it was obvious that Ava wasn’t from one of the wealthy families in town, Bridget liked her.

“My name is Bridget.” 

She was soon immersed in an exciting game of soccer. Her fiery red hair became disheveled, her new dress mud–splattered, and her shoes dirty, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she finally had people to play with. This certainly was not something she had in her at–home life, and she was loving every second of it.

“Pass the ball!” one of the girls said. “I can score!” Bridget just ignored her, and kept running, but she tripped over her shoe laces, and the other team ended up scoring a point. 

Bridget stood back up and flicked her long braid defiantly. The game went on for another fifteen minutes, but she noticed that some of the other children seemed to be leaving.“What’s the problem? Why aren’t you playing anymore?” she asked. 

“Well… I just–you– won’t share. You’re being selfish.” One of the boys named Peter finally blurted out. “It’s no fun playing with a ball hog.”

“I have an idea!” Ava jumped in. “Maybe we can make a rule that no one can have the ball for more than fifteen seconds, or something. That way everyone can get a chance with the ball. What do you think?” Ava was practically pleading with her eyes for Bridget to agree to the idea.

Bridget’s eyes popped open. There was only one thing going through her head at that moment. How dare Peter call me a selfish hog! 

“I am no such thing!” Bridget shrieked. “I was just better than–”

“Bridget Walsh, come here this instant!” The shrill call pierced Bridget’s ears. She turned quickly to see her mother, Caitlin, staring at her with a gaping mouth and horrified look on her face.

“What are you doing? Just look at you, all covered in mud!” she said. Bridget cast an angry glare at the boy who had called her a ball hog, then stalked off toward her aghast mother. 

“I will not have my nine year old daughter horsing around like a little street urchin. And yelling like that in the middle of town? That’s completely unacceptable. 

“You’ve had the blessing of being born into a respectable Irish family. You ought to have the sense to not smear our family name all over town by acting so… outrageously in public! Word will probably be out within hours, and what ever will I do if Mona O’Connel hears about this? This could end up in the town newspaper! I have never been so humiliated in my whole life.

Caitlin put a hand to her chest and gasped for breath. Bridget, who had been standing there stone faced throughout the entirety of the rebuke, took a moment to roll her eyes. Her mother said that at least once a week. Caitlin went on after a moment.

“If we weren’t about to have company, you would be in big trouble, young lady.”

Bridget perked up. She knew her mother would never actually get her in ‘big trouble.’ But what about this company? 

“Who is coming over, mother?” she asked. Bridget’s mother looked at her daughter for a moment with lips pursed and hands on her hips. Finally she sighed.

“Your uncle Tom and aunt–”

“Will Connor be coming with them too?” Bridget began jumping up and down excitedly.

“Of course Connor is coming. He’s their son, you know.” Caitlin snapped. “Now hurry along and get cleaned up, they’ll be here tomorrow, and you need to make sure that you spend ample time studying for that big test you have coming up.”

“Oh goodie!” Bridget exclaimed, not even thinking–or caring– about the test. “Someone to play with!”

“He might prefer to spend his time with Father and Uncle Tom, since he is a good bit older than you, dear.”

“He’s only twelve.” 

“Precisely. Just don’t be too disappointed if you don’t end up with a playmate.”

Bridget just waved her hand dismissively. He’s my cousin; he has to play with me.