The Journal of Emma Grace Whitloc

Over the last few weeks Jackson and I had become almost friends. We had been hanging out at the river most afternoons. It was nice to be around him; he was nothing like his sister. Possibly my favorite thing about him was the small smile that would play around his mouth when something happened, but that was nothing compared to the grin that he gave when I fell waist deep into the river after a piece of my homework packet that the wind caught weird.
I threw my head back in despair as the water washed away the ink on my page. Jackson covered his mouth.
"What?" I asked grumpily.
He shook his head and took his hand away trying to wipe the grin off of his face. He held out his own packet to me.
"Thanks," I said as the grumpiness melted away at his smile.
We sat and I quickly rewrote everything I could remember, while he did his for the first time.