Excerpt: Moonlight Sonata

The wind was blowing in strong, refreshing gusts, wrapping the fresh lake air around him and his fellow companions. The sun beat down steadily and he would have normally been hot and sweaty under the scratchy material of his uniform, but the breeze helped cool him enough that he didn’t particularly care to internally complain today. It wouldn’t have helped anyway – he would be in this uniform, facing the sun, and seeking respite from the heat via the sea breeze for the next few months, if not more. More than the futility of complaining about it was the fact that, in the overall scheme of things, it was a small nuisance – if he could not even handle the heat or the itchiness of his uniform, then how would he handle engaging in rounds of fire between this ship and those from the Germans, Italians, or Austrians?

He looked down from the stern, scanning the faces on the pier in what peace of mind he had. There were hundreds of faces looking up at him and his companions. Hundreds of smiling, laughing, happy, sad, crying, worried faces, each torn between a dozen different emotions. He could relate with that; this was, at once, exciting and terrifying, honorable and terrible, everything he wanted and everything he feared. He would never be able to explain it to his mother, but his father, at least, understood his enthusiasm for joining the United States Navy. Of serving his country during war time, both terrified of what he might encounter and proud of the fact that he was putting his life on the line to protect something he valued more than it.

Half way through his scan of the pier, his eyes caught sight of a familiar white, cotton dress, worn by a lovely woman whose tear-filled hazel eyes were framed by large, blonde curls and who was standing beside a tall and proud looking man, wearing a crisp and prim suit. The two were clearly well off and looked proud, but sad and somber as well. They had both seemingly been looking for someone in particular on the ship and it was not until he caught the woman’s eyes that the couple seemed to find who they had been looking for.

The young man on board the ship leaned forward, the title U.S.S. Chicago registering into his peripheral vision as he did so, a nervous grin on his face and waved.

“Edward!” The woman seemed to return his wave and call to him and it was almost as though Edward could hear his mother’s voice on the wind; as though the call had not gotten lost in the sea of cries from other mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. “Edward!—

“Edward,” a voice hissed at him and elbowed Edward from his right side.

Edward immediately snapped his attention back to the task at hand, copying down the composition assignment that his teacher had set for the class to do at home. He had been in the middle of carrying out that particular task when his attention had drifted so very fully.

“Mr. Masen, is there something else of interest that perhaps you would like the class to focus on instead of the assignment at hand?” Mrs. Edith Moore, Edward’s stern Composition teacher, did not look pleased at her pupil’s apparent lack of attention.

“Of course not, Mrs. Moore,” Edward coughed apologetically, fighting against the urge to throw the snickering, curly-haired boy, who had elbowed him earlier, a deadly glare. “I apologize, my mind drifted for a moment.”

Mrs. Moore set Edward with a critical and disapproving glance before moving back to the board, finishing describing the assignment she had set for the class. The composition had to be at least 500 words and written in ink, preferably read through by a parent to make sure there were no outstanding mistakes.

Usually Edward would have been more than attentive, but the academic year was nearing its end and all he could think about lately was enlisting in the United States Navy. It was an argument he had been having with his mother for the past half a year and try though he and his father might to persuade her to think otherwise, it had not really worked so far. He knew, of course, that once he turned 18 years of age, there was little that his mother could do if he really felt the need to serve his country during the war – and he did feel the need – but his plan wasn’t to break her heart. She simply worried as all mothers did – and with good reason, Edward knew – although, at some point, she would have to realize that her worry was reaching into the realms of overprotection.

“I expect everyone to turn their assignments in promptly. The day after does not qualify as promptly,” Mrs. Moore’s sharp voice cut through Edward’s musings. “Neither does the week after, Mr. Hayden.”

It was Edward’s turn to snicker this time as the curly-haired boy next to him sat up a little straighter, with a sheepish grin on his face.

“My apologies, Mrs. Moore. I must have gotten my weeks mixed up. Old Richard’s Almanac really isn’t as useful as it used to be,” the boy replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Witty, Mr. Hayden. Let’s hope you’re as witty in your next assignment and I’ll consider not failing you,” Mrs. Moore replied to the boy crisply, although Edward could see that the stern expression on her face had softened ever so slightly. That was the effect Neil Hayden had on everyone – students, parents, teachers, and all. “You are all dismissed.”