ASHER PIERCE
I remember the first time I met Logan Sparrow on that cloudy day at the park on the corner of Third Street. The wind was bitter, whistling through the trees' barren leaves and carrying the winter chill with it. I was seven then, alone in the sandpit, attempting to construct a sandcastle. All I had managed to do was pile a heap of sand together, my fingertips numb from the cold. The world around me felt subdued under the grey sky, but I found solace in the work of my hands, feeling a warmth in my chest as my small masterpiece started to take shape.
Then he came. Logan. This kid with light blond hair like the sun-kissed hue of freshly baked bread and almond-brown eyes that sparkled in the afternoon light. I’d never seen him before in the neighbourhood until that day. This kid, Logan, showed up with his mom, a ray of sunshine amidst the grey skies.
I must’ve been staring because his mom smiled at me and gently pushed her son toward me. “Go say hi!” I heard her say, the softness of her voice like a blanket around me. My heart raced as I watched Logan take those steps toward me, my small world of sand and clouds suddenly becoming more significant.
Little Logan slowly wobbled over with a hand hiding part of his face. I assumed he was shy, and for some reason, I felt a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I glanced back at my dad, sitting on a bench near me, and he just gave me an encouraging nod and a warm smile. The chill in the air dissipated as I watched Logan approach; the sun’s golden rays broke through the clouds, creating an unexpected moment of joy.
Logan took his time, his eyes searching up at the treetops with curiosity. I gulped, my heart pounding as a strange nervousness overcame me. I wasn’t good at meeting new people, but Logan was somehow different. The palpable stillness of the moment seemed to linger as though time itself was suspended in that breathtaking moment of anticipation.
Finally, he stood in front of me, rubbing his nose. Our eyes met, and he stared silently, a moment that felt like an eternity. It was weird but somehow comforting too. I waited for him to say something, but he never did. So, taking a deep breath, I spoke first.
“Hello,” I uttered nervously. “I’m Asher. What’s your name?” The silence was broken.
Logan’s eyes widened at me momentarily, his small frame shaking ever so slightly as he let out a gentle chuckle. Then, finally, he lowered his hand away from his face, and his mouth opened. “Ah!” he said, his voice full of joy and surprise.
“Ah-?” I began to question, just in time for him to let out a mighty sneeze. It was so powerful that he almost flew backward and barely managed to catch his balance.
I didn’t actually see this, but I heard his feet shuffling in the sand as he stumbled back. I closed my eyes as I received the full spray from Logan. Then, I opened my eyes, blinking slowly in shock as I felt my face wet with saliva and something even worse slowly sliding through my hair. All I could do was giggle at the absurdity of the moment. Logan’s mom squealed and rushed over, and I felt my dad’s reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry!” his mom apologized while digging frantically through her purse for tissues.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry!” Dad said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“I’m Emma, and this is my son, Logan.” she gave my dad a few tissues before bending down to wipe Logan’s face.
“Emma?” Dad repeated with a nod. “Cool. I’m Robert, and this is my son, Asher.” He then kneeled and started wiping my face gently, his smile never wavering as he removed the glob of snot from my hair.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said with a heavy sigh. “Lolo’s got a bit of a cold.”
Dad waved his hand dismissively. “It’s no biggie. Just the natural course of things at this time of year.”
My dad and Emma kept talking, but I kept watching Logan. He was still rubbing his nose, and even though he hadn’t yet spoken, the way he sniffled convinced me that there was something special about this kid.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized just how significant this kid would be to me. But the reality was, while I was observing Logan, my dad noticed Emma. Over the years, visits from Emma and Logan would become more frequent. As I grew increasingly fond of Logan, Dad also grew closer to Emma.
Dad had explained that they were dating. As a young kid, I didn’t really understand what that meant - I wasn’t even aware of dating until I was twelve. That’s when it hit me - why Logan, the kid who sneezed on me at the park on the corner of Third Street, was so special. By sixth grade, I thought Logan Sparrow was rather cute, and it was around the same time my dad proposed to Emma.
When Logan and I were fourteen, my dad and Emma married. Now that I’m sixteen, my feelings for Logan are erratic. I tell my best friend, Theodore Williams, I love Logan all the time, but I don't think he really understands just how I love him.
