Riding Waves by Susan Marie Schulhof Dec 11, 2014



Riding Waves is a book about learning to navigate the joys and trials of growing up, falling in love and going to college. When Harper's relationship with Dan starts taking her down a path she doesn't like, she will have to make some hard choices. 
Can Harper ride the waves of life or will they take her under?


This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Riding Waves. Copyright © 2014 by Susan Marie Schulhof. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced.



This book is dedicated to all of the people who taught me about life, the good as well as the bad.


Now


January 2012


   As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I look the same as I always do, but I don’t seem to recognize myself. I wash my face and brush my teeth like every night before bed, but now I also wash my arm and change into a blue, long sleeve shirt so that I can’t see what I have done. I glance one more time in the mirror to see if I can catch a glimpse of who I use to be. As I lay down, almost falling asleep, I do feel better. That’s the problem. My arm stings, but I don’t hurt from Dan’s words and actions anymore. I still feel pain, but only from the cut forming on my arm. As I touch my left arm, I feel a slight scar from the last time that I did this to myself, and I drift off to sleep.
Then

Beginning of June 2011

   “See you all there, Mom. I’m leaving to pick up Ashley,” I yell to her as I walk out to the garage. Since we need to be at graduation earlier than our families, I am using my mom’s car, and they will come later. I throw my cap and gown in the back seat and drive to pick up my best friend, Ashley. As I pull into her driveway, she comes out of her house already in her cap and gown. Her gown is a little wrinkly; her cap is crooked, but she has the biggest smile on her face.
    “This is it, Harper.”
    “It is,” I reply as I drive towards our high school. I can’t believe that I am graduating.
    “I love this song,” Ashley says as she turns up the radio. “Lazy Song” by Bruno Mars blasts in the speakers as we pull into the parking lot. I notice that the sky is overcast today, but at least it is not raining. I put on my cap and gown as we walk inside the school. I swear that I can actually feel the energy and excitement in the room as we say hi to all of our friends. Everyone is full of nervous chatter as we find our place in line for the processional.
    My thoughts begin to wander while I listen to our principal, and then our valedictorian, give their graduation speeches. Some people think that high school is the best, but not me. I enjoyed certain classes, and I do appreciate learning new things, but I am looking forward to going to college. I want the freedom to decide when my classes are and what I will learn about. I know that there are some restrictions, but I am ready to make my own choices in life. 
    I saw my family watching when I walked in during the processional, so I look over at them and smile. It feels like my life is just beginning to start as I walk towards the stage. I glance back and see Ashley’s row stand as I wait for them to call my name. 
    “Harper Elisabeth Johnson,” is said over the intercom as I cross the stage to receive my diploma. I think that I hear my family clap, but I am so nervous as I stride over and shake hands with our Principal that I am not sure. After she hands me my diploma and shakes my hand, I hurry over to be congratulated by some of the teachers who are waiting nearby.
   “You will do great things I predict, Harper,” Mr. Anderson exclaims. He was my drama teacher this year. He is probably around sixty years old and a little overweight and bald, but he is the sweetest man that I have ever met. After taking his acting class this year, he encouraged me to get involved in the play that he directs in the summer at the Haven Community Theatre House, so I signed up to help build the set. I hug him and say thanks.  
   I shake hands with a couple more teachers before I get to Mrs. Ryan. Her shoulder length blond hair is hanging in her eyes, like it is most of the time until she gets her bangs trimmed. Her pale complexion and a few wrinkles are the only clue that she is a forty-year old mother of two. She had a couple of her poems published, but I know that she has a real passion for mentoring young writers. She is always pushing me to share my poems and short stories with others.
   “Oh Harper. I am going to miss you in my English classes and helping me in the writing lab,” she whispers as we hug.
   “I will come visit all the time. I will just be at the community college.”
   “Remember to keep in touch and when you need that reference letter for a university, please let me know,” she says with that perpetual smile she always wears.
   “Thank you!” I blurt out and hurry to the next teacher before the tears start to flow. As much as I have never really enjoyed high school, I have loved certain teachers. Some teachers can just make such a difference by how they treat you. Both Mr. Anderson and Mrs. Ryan never treated me like a high school kid. They talked to me as a peer and expected the best from me. I learned so much from them about the classes that they taught, but also just about life in general. They inspire me to help others and maybe become a teacher, a teacher like them.











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