The Collected Accounts of June Bloomer

Across newspapers and television, seventeen year old June Bloomer is being shredded across the country for the cataclysmic events she caused in the quiet town of Johnston's creek. However months after the horror, in that forgettable village, June's only four friends are determined to tell the truth of June from the causalities they received first hand and nothing less.

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14. Entry twelve:

It’s my job to set the scene, but since I’m coming to the end of my memoirs, I feel like I haven’t shared nearly enough. Let’s see;

Politics – only Boris and his handful of old folks really bother, or at least voice an opinion. We’re one of those little towns that don’t care much for central government, but would spend days on end debating the dog catcher role that needs to be filled. Food – the deli is the luxury, the corner shop is the reality. Unless you want to trek to the Mossfield supermarkets, you have to pay three times the price for a carton of milk and risk the babysitter scenario as stated earlier. Job Prospects – corner shop assistant. Other small town shop assitants. Teacher. Bored policemen. Are my missing anything? Education system – corrupt and overlooked, so nothing new. Population – aging, kind and community driven. Never forgets a face more often than not. Like all communities, find themselves much closer in tragedy than in times of celebration. Leisure activities – little swimming pool, Cineplex beside the library, parks and again, head for Mossfield if you’re looking for decent entertainment. Music scene – If you count the teacher band, than absolutely nothing at all. Economy – bad(?) History – I had a terrible habit of sleeping in Mrs Wheeler’s class, so I’m sure you could google it. World affairs – well, in the newspaper made every month a new baby is always guaranteed the main headline. Many refer to televisions to hear news. The June Bloomer Effect – devastating. Lives and hearts lost.

Every Tuesday there’s a soccer tournament at the school between teams A and B and team A wins almost every time. Every Wednesday, there’s in the community hall they have a leisure activity of the people’s choice which usually boils down to bingo, or its equally dull cousins. Every Thursday, the school lets out fifteen minutes early, but the buses don’t arrive until exactly fifteen minutes later so I just have to wait around. Every Friday, there’s a collection brought around for the latest cause in Johnson’s Creek. Every Saturday is filled for scrambles for the week’s food and little parties here and there, dog walkers galore and well deserved lie-ins. Every Sunday is church for the majority, which I stopped going to when I was twelve and so have the house to myself for an hour verging on two because there’s bacon rolls served after, for a weekly dose of coffee and scandal.

Every Monday, the schools read out a list of events. And now we have a minute’s silence every third Monday for Aubrie, or the other victims we haven’t got to yet. The silence spreads to the whole of the Creek though, and when Johnson’s creek rings out the bell for quiet, you can’t even hear wildlife or the world outside.

June Bloomer broke everything that is Johnson’s Creek. No longer do we have the same wild weather, or the same happy people. We’re all a little shattered and shaded, trying to remember a time where she wasn’t what put us on the map and more of our family friendly sense of community, as well as fantastic scenery. Whatever foundations I can lay, I safely admit they’ve all been cracked in one way or another. But there’s hope coming back now, weeding through the cracks and popping out in surprising places. Miss Maguire from six doors down one three million dollars with a lottery ticket she hardly remembered buying. Stacey Higgs got excepted into Oxford, and Logan Myers into a prodigious acting school. The local government gave the community hall a large grant to rebuild so we’d no longer have to think of her, and instead of a single bench the Sommer family are raising funds to create a full public garden for Aubrie Sommer.

We are people of car boot sales and fairy cakes, not murder mysteries. But since no one seemed to take that into consideration, I think we've done well. Case a quarter closed, I suppose. The scene has been set and the characters described. 

Rose's edit: Miss Maguire. Lucky cow. 

Michael's edit on Rose's edit: True that.

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