James is 3 months younger than Kimberly, but he has a car, even though Kimberly does not. It’s an old, 5 speed Firebird, but despite its age, it still runs well.  James likes his car, even though it’s not new like a lot of the other kids’ cars.  Those kids have rich parents, and James doesn’t.  They’re not poor, but they can’t afford to buy James a new Mustang like two people in his grade have recently received.

Unfortunately though, James cannot afford to put gas into his car more than once a month.  He had a job about 9 months ago, but the down economy caused the small shop he was working for to go out of business.  It’s okay though, because James can just walk to Kimberly’s house since its not too far, and that’s really the only place he regularly goes besides school, and he catches the bus to get there.

Kimberly feels bad asking James to go to the lake, because it means he’ll have to drive, but it’s the weekend, and she thinks he will probably want to go.  A lot of kids from school usually go down to the lake on Saturdays, and though Kimberly doesn’t have a car, she does have a boat.  None of the other kids have a boat, so when she brings out the boat, they can go water skiing and kneeboarding.

Well, okay, it’s not actually her boat.  It’s really her dad’s, but her dad always let her drive it, so she’s known how to use it since she was 10.  It’s a 16 foot aluminum skiff with a 75 horsepower Mercury outboard motor.

It’s docked at her grandpa’s house, because docking there is free and her dad doesn’t have a truck anymore to launch the boat.  Her grandpa is lucky enough to own property on the lake because he bought it long, long ago when it wasn’t worth a whole lot.  If he sold it now, he’d be a millionaire, but he loves living on the lake, and so does Kimberly’s grandma.

“You really want to go to the lake?  I thought you said you were never going back after that raft incident a while back,” James says.  Kimberly recalls saying those words, but she didn’t really mean them.  She had hoped he would’ve forgotten by now.

“If you will drive, then yeah.”

“Sure,” he says.  ”It’s not like the lake is far or anything.”

Kimberly gleefully goes into the bathroom and changes into her bikini, then puts a shirt and shorts on over it.  It’s a new bikini that she kind of wants to show off, and she hates to cover it up, but she has to until they get to the lake.

James and Kimberly technically live on the same road, but it curves around in a big U.  Kimberly lives on one side of the U and James on the other.  Their houses face each other, but they can’t walk straight through the middle of the U because that land is developed with houses and fences and whatnot.  Instead, they have to travel along the road, which is about a 15 minute walk at a relaxing pace.  If they were to speed up to a jog like James regularly does, it only takes about 7 or 8 minutes, but they’re not in a hurry.

Many of the small roads around town are gravel, but this road is paved.  Kimberly can still remember when they paved it 9 years ago.  James’ family had moved into their current house 8 years ago, so James has no memory of their street being gravel.

James quickly changes into his swim trunks and grabs his car keys.  His parents aren’t around, so he leaves them a note.  ”Going to the lake with Kimberly,” it says.  He would’ve called them, but writing a note is easier.

James doesn’t have a cell phone.  He wants one, but he can’t afford it.  The phone itself he could save up for, but the monthly charge for texting is too much.  His parents tell him that they’ll pay for the voice plan, but if he wants to text, he needs to pay for it himself.  He doesn’t see the point of having a cell phone that can’t text, so he doesn’t bother trying to save up for one.

Kimberly has a cell phone.  She just got it a couple months ago for her 17th birthday.  Her parents pay the bill for it under the guise that they feel safer being able to check up on their daughter when she’s out, but really, she’s an only child and they can afford to spoil her a little if they want, so sometimes they do.

They hop in James’ Firebird.  He presses the clutch down and starts the car.  It roars to life, and James grins because he loves the raw sound his old car makes.  He shifts into 1st and takes off, rowing through gears as he gains speed.

James actually hasn’t driven his car in a while.  He was grounded from it for a month after the incident in the Redwoods.  He recently got his privileges back, but he’d only used it since then to drive his mom to the grocery store (she gives him a few bucks for gas when he does this).  She’d have probably made him do that anyway though, grounded or not.  James doesn’t really care; he’s just glad that his punishment wasn’t so severe that it prevented him from seeing Kimberly.

Kimberly didn’t receive a punishment.  Well, she technically did, but it was just that her phone got taken away for a week.  No big deal for her.  Maybe for most 17 year olds, but she could live without it.

They turn off of the paved road onto another paved road.  It curves and twists alongside a fence for a couple of miles until the pavement ends and the lake comes into sight.  Take a right when the road forks, and the lake is right there.

At least half the kids in their grade are at the lake.  It’s a small town, so it’s a small school.  Their grade is comprised of a single class, and the class is only 25 students.

The other kids see James’ old Firebird pulling up, and a few of the girls wave.  The guys are too busy fooling around with an inflatable raft to wave.  James sees this from the car and says, “12 high school kids and an inflatable raft.  Sounds like a great idea.”  James has learned his lesson about rafts already, but his classmates apparently hadn’t had such an experience.

James and Kimberly have an interesting history with their classmates.  They like most of them, but there is a group of about 5 of them that they just plain don’t get along with.  One of them is Revo, the guy that started the rumor about Kimberly that ended in him sprawled out on the floor, courtesy of James’ fist.  They still don’t know why Revo decided to start the rumor, but questioning the motives of high school kids is often frivolous, and even high school kids know this, because sometimes even they don’t know why they do what they do.

James is a very straightforward person, though.  So is Kimberly.  Maybe that’s why they’ve always gotten along so well.  James doesn’t take any shit from anyone.  He will respect someone that calls him a dick to his face, because anyone can call him a dick behind his back.  That group of 5 – James doesn’t respect them.    Kimberly obviously doesn’t either.

That’s why they’re a little disappointed when they see Scotty and Heather with the others at the lake.  Scotty isn’t the one that started the rumor, but he did help spread it.  He’s dating Heather, who is a pretty girl, but lacks any hint of common sense.  James almost feels bad for Heather, because she needs someone like Scotty, who has plenty enough common sense to share, but instead of using it, often falls victim to his baser instincts.

It’s odd to see these 2 without the other 3.  Kimberly immediately notes this by saying, “Where’s the rest of the Fabulous Five?”

Oh yeah, one other thing about their classmates:  the animosity between the “Fabulous Five” and James and Kimberly is well known, and pretty much everyone else has sided with James and Kimberly.  The 5 in that group aren’t exactly well-liked, but they don’t seem to care much, as is apparent by 2 of them showing up here like everyone else wants them around.

They don’t immediately go to Kimberly’s grandparents’ house to get the boat as they had planned.  Kimberly has certain reservations about letting Scotty and Heather go anywhere near it.  Instead, they go down to the shore with the other kids.  Some of them are hanging around drinking beer that they swiped from their parents’ fridge.  The kids think no one can tell what they’re drinking because the cans are in cozies, but it’s apparent even to Kimberly, who doesn’t have much exposure to beer cans because her parents don’t really drink beer.

“Hey Kimberly!” a girl shouts.  The girl’s name is Sarah-Beth.  A somewhat redneck name for a hardly redneck girl.  Sarah-Beth is Kimberly’s best female friend.

“Hi Sarah,” Kimberly says.  Sarah-Beth doesn’t like her full name – quite the opposite of Kimberly.

The girls hug, and the rest of them exchange greetings.  James hadn’t immediately noticed that Tim is there because Tim has been swimming in the lake with a few others.  James and Tim aren’t really friends, but James respects Tim, because Tim always smiles and tells both Kimberly and him hello when he sees them in school or around town.  James respects this quality.  Friendly people are good people, James thinks.  Not always, but most of the time.

Tim is a bit of a gentle giant.  He’s strong, but righteous.  The type of person that will curse in front of a lady, but never at one.

Like clockwork, Tim says, “Hi James.  Where’s Kimberly?”  James hadn’t noticed, but Kimberly has disappeared somewhere with Sarah-Beth.  James doesn’t pay any attention to the fact that Tim assumes that Kimberly is always around him, because it’s usually true.

Even though James has greeted Scotty and Heather, he still sees them giving him the stink eye every once in a while when he looks in their direction.  He shrugs it off and decides to ignore them for now.

Kimberly and Sarah-Beth return from wherever they have been.  Kimberly has shimmied out of her shorts, but still has her shirt on.  She’s carrying her shorts in her left hand, and she opens James’ car  and throws them inside.  While standing there, she takes off her shirt and throws it inside too.  James notices this, and, of course, every other male notices this.

As soon as Kimberly starts walking back toward him, James sees Heather glaring fiercely at her, as though Kimberly had walked up to Heather’s mother’s grave and spit on it.

Kimberly is an attractive girl.  James knows this.  Every guy in their class knows this.  Even Heather knows this, and James suspects that right now, Heather is jealous because she’s just caught Scotty checking Kimberly out as she was taking her shirt off.

This would upset many girls, but it goes far beyond that in this case and infuriates Heather.  James doesn’t say anything, but he finds it hilarious.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Kimberly asks.

“Sure,” James says.  He adds, “I like your bikini.”  He isn’t hitting on her or anything.  He just knows that it’s new, and girls like it when you compliment them on their clothes.

Kimberly smiles, but doesn’t thank him.  Instead, she grabs him by the arm and drags him into the water.  Sarah-Beth is watching them from back on the shore and is cracking up with laughter.

“You better stop laughing,” Kimberly yells out, “because you’re next, Sarah!”

Sarah-Beth giggles and says, “Those two are so cute.”  No one hears her say this though.  She has purposely said it just loud enough for only herself to hear.

The water is a comfortable temperature, which surprises James, because it rained last night, and rain always cools the lake off.  He splashes some of the water at Kimberly and Sarah-Beth, who joined them only moments ago, and is still standing there only halfway submerged in the water.

“Hey, that’s cold!  At least let me get used to the water first!” Sarah-Beth protests.

James laughs and says, “Oh come on you big baby, it’s not cold.”

The three of them swim for 30 minutes or so, though their “swimming” mostly consists of water splashing fights and cracking stupid jokes about the legendary monster that lives in the lake.  There is, of course, no monster in the lake, but it is a fun myth that some of the townspeople have been spreading around for years.

As they’re about to get out of the water, they hear shouting back on the shore.  One of the voices is definitely Tim’s, but neither James nor Kimberly nor Sarah-Beth can figure out who the other voice belongs to.  They quickly wade back to shore and run over to where the others are.

Tim is face to face with Scotty.  Scotty should be terrified, but he doesn’t look it.  Tim is a big guy.  He could be a football player.  He should be a football player.  Their school isn’t big enough to have a football team, though.  Regardless of this, Tim is the closest thing they have to a jock, and like everyone else, Tim sides with James and Kimberly, thusly putting Scotty on the bad end of Tim’s anger.

“It isn’t James’ fault that you can’t keep your eyes off of Kimberly.  This is you and Heather’s shit, not Kimberly’s and not James’.  Leave them out of this,” Tim says.  James, Kimberly, and Sarah-Beth don’t know what’s going on, but while they were swimming, Heather had pitched a hissy fit because she caught Scotty staring at Kimberly yet again.  Heather is furious at Scotty, and Scotty is furious because he is in the wrong, and he knows it.  Like most boneheads, he has to take out his anger on someone, and since James’ had once knocked out Revo, Scotty decides James should be the recipient of his anger, so Scotty goes over and kicks James’ Firebird while Tim is watching.  Tim has also seen everything that’s transpired between Scotty and Heather

Tim takes it personally when stupid people do stupid things to other people or their property.  Tim is one of the lucky kids that got a new Mustang from his parents.  He isn’t a brat though.  He loves his car, and he takes care of it.  No one touches his car, and when he sees Scotty kick James’ old Firebird, Tim is infuriated.  It may be an old car, but Scotty has no right to kick it, even if he only leaves a small dent that is easily taken out later with a suction cup.

Scotty is raging mad.  He wants to hit Tim, but hitting Tim would be idiotic.  Not only could Tim beat him into a pulp, but 2 of Tim’s closest friends are there to back him up, as well as all of these other people.  Scotty may be stupid, but he’s not that stupid.

Scotty sees that James and Kimberly are standing there, dumbfounded at the whole situation.  James heard his name mentioned, and Kimberly heard hers mentioned, but they’ve been swimming this entire time.  What could they have done to be involved in this?

Scotty, ever the opportunist, walks away from Tim and up to James.  James frowns.  He doesn’t like this punk.  Scotty looks James up and down and says, “You’re not good enough to have a girl like that.”  He nods over to Kimberly.

“Kimberly is my friend,” James says.

“Right,” Scotty replies.  Everyone there knows that James and Kimberly are not dating.  Of course, when a girl and a guy hang out alone as much as Kimberly and James do, rumors start, but they were gentle rumors, and they were quickly put to rest as soon as the subjects of the rumors were asked about them.  However, James and Kimberly – especially Kimberly – like to take advantage of that situation whenever possible.

“What’s the matter?” Kimberly says.  ”Don’t believe him?”  She winds her right arm around James’ left and pulls him close to her.  James rolls his eyes.

“Are you making fun of me, bitch?”

No one says a word.  There are two reasons why this is very bad.  The first is that they all know what James’ did to Revo when Revo had insulted Kimberly’s integrity.  The second is that Tim is still standing there, and Tim does not tolerate it when men call women by that slang, especially not a woman that he knows and respects.

Kimberly can tell that James wants to get violent.  She still has her arm wrapped around his, so she pulls him back and whispers, “Don’t.  Please don’t.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”

But James’ teeth are already gritted, and he’s already trying to pull himself out of Kimberly’s grasp.  She holds him tightly though.  ”No, please, dont,” she repeats.

Sensing a possible fight, their classmate, Tina, had already pulled out her smartphone, opened the camera app, and tapped the record button.  Tina has Scotty on video calling Kimberly a bitch, but then she stops recording, realizing that if something did go down and there was video evidence, it might get James in trouble rather than Scotty, especially if James throws the first punch.  She picks up her phone and goes back to watching, silently hoping that Scotty gets what he deserves.

“Kimberly, let me go,” James says.

“I won’t let go,” Kimberly says.  James would never get rough with Kimberly, and she knows it, so if she holds on, he won’t try to push her off, and then he won’t be able to fight Scotty.

“What’s the matter?  Your girlfriend won’t let you fight?” Scotty says, accentuating and dragging out the word ‘girlfriend.’

However, James isn’t really the biggest of Scotty’s worries.  Or, at least, he shouldn’t be, because at that moment, Tim is walking up behind Scotty.

“Kimberly is a better person that you will ever be,” James fires off, eyes practically ablaze.  ”If you have a problem with me, then take it out with me, not her.”

Scotty looks James in the eye and says, “Fine.”  There is an evil smile on Scotty’s face as the word escapes his lips, and James suddenly realizes that Scotty plans to hit him while he can’t fight back.  His mind starts racing.  Should he push Kimberly to the side so she doesn’t get hurt?  Should he just take the attack like a man and not fight back?

Scotty cocks his fist back, and James, having desultorily decided on his latter idea, braces for impact.

But another hand appears in front of James and catches the attack.  It’s a big hand – no doubt belonging to Tim.  James is in awe that Tim not only blocked the attack, but did so with a single hand.

Tim wraps his hand around Scotty’s fist.  Scotty tries to escape Tim’s grasp, but it’s futile.  Tim is a powerhouse, and Scotty is a double A battery.  With his other hand, Tim grabs Scotty’s comparatively small bicep, and using his own body as a fulcrum, Tim swings Scotty backward, stops, then heaves all of the power in his body into swinging Scotty forward.

Tim lets go, and Scotty, practically helpless at this point, flies forward, hits the ground, and rolls down the bank into the lake.

Everyone is quiet at first as Scotty gets up, completely humiliated.  Then, they all burst out with cheers, laughter, and even applause.  Scotty is suddenly painfully aware that he’s lost this fight, and he walks past them, dripping with water, dispirit and dejected.

Even James is cheering as his opponent walks past.  His anger is gone now, as Scotty has received what he had coming to him.  Tim is proud of himself, because even though he got physical, he didn’t actually cause any harm to Scotty.  At least, not to his body.  Scotty’s pride might be permanently damaged, though.

Leave A Comment, Written on December 31st, 2011 , Chapter, Drama, Short Story

If you ever need to find James, chances are that he is somewhere by the Oaks near the ditch that crosses the field by Kimberly’s house. And yes, Kimberly is probably with him. They are childhood friends, and you can say that they are best friends, but don’t assume any farther than that.

And they don’t have nicknames. So don’t call them by some cutesy, rhyming couple name like “Jim and Kim” or “J and K.” They really don’t appreciate it, and as you can imagine, they’ve heard it a million times.

Kimberly’s parents own the field through which the ditch traces its path, but the land is mostly unused. There is a small storage shed closer to their house, and Kimberly’s dad had once built a treehouse somewhere in the middle of the field on one of the few trees that aren’t in the Oaks or the Pines, but it is in disrepair nowadays. That was when Kimberly was 8, and she is 17 now. An adult, of course, just like all 17 year olds.

James is almost 17, but a birthday is a birthday, so he’s still 16. Kimberly likes to tease him as soon as her birthday arrives, because for three months, she’s technically a year older than him. They’re still at the age when growing another year older is a good, exciting thing, after all.

There’s a patch of forestry on the south edge of the field. The ditch cuts through the trees, dissecting them into what James dubbed the Pines and the Oaks. On one side of the ditch, there are mostly pine trees. On the other side, oaks. It’s strange, James thinks, but Kimberly doesn’t think it’s strange at all that the trees happen to be separated like this.

On the side of the ditch is the path they travel down almost every day (weather permitting, of course) to get to the Oaks. In the Oaks, they’ve set up a makeshift club house. The four columns at the corners are old fence posts that they found in the field, but the rest of the club house is made from fallen tree branches and whatever else they can find lying around in the forested area of the field.

James and Kimberly started building the club house when they were 14, and it has been an off and on project since then. They are older now, and it seems like less of a “cool” thing to do, but it serves as a decent form of entertainment, especially after James got the idea to dig a tunnel that went out under one of the walls and into a pit, which he would also dig. They would then cover the top of the pit with branches, and then leaves, and then mud, until it looks like any other part of the ground.

James is excited about this idea. Kimberly isn’t.

“Let’s just put a roof on this thing and finish it,” she says.

“If I’m going to have a club house attached to my name when I turn 17, I at least want it to be the coolest club house in town,” he says.

Kimberly sighs. She figured he would say something like that. “I hope you have two shovels,” she relents.

He does, of course, back at his parents’ house, but that’s a far walk. “I’ll bring them tomorrow,” he says.

“Our progress is stalled again until we have shovels.”

“That’s fine. We can go exploring.”

The ditch exits the patch of forestry a few hundred feet past where their unfinished club house is. It travels another couple hundred feet on Kimberly’s parents’ property, and then veers sharply to the west, and right past that is where the property line is.

“I wish that old man wasn’t so mean,” James says as they exit the Oaks. He can wish, of course, but the old man that owns the adjacent property is, in fact, mean. He’s an angry, crotchety old man that’s never said a nice word to Kimberly or her parents in the 15 years they’ve been neighbors. When he goes into town to pick up his weekly loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter, he doesn’t speak a word to anyone. He just pays and leaves. Everyone in their small town knows this, which may lend more validity to the claim that he isn’t a very pleasant old man.

They walk closer to the property line. There’s no fence, but there’s a stick with a bright pink plastic flag on it demarcating the boundary. Kimberly won’t even go near the stick. She’s not afraid of the old man, but her dad told her to stay away from the old man’s property, and she’s a good girl (or so she tells herself), so she listens. Most of the time, anyway.

James respects that Kimberly listens to her parents, but as for himself, well, he wants to explore the patch of forestry on the old man’s property. He’s always been able to see it from the Oaks and the Pines, but he’s never been able to go there. For that reason, he calls it the Redwoods. Obviously, they aren’t actually redwood trees, but James is fascinated by the real redwood forests out west and has always wanted to visit, but it’s too far away.

Sometimes, James gets bad ideas. On occasions, he keeps those ideas to himself. Most of the time though, he shares his bad ideas with Kimberly. The last time he had a bad idea, he and Kimberly had nearly drowned trying to float a homemade raft out onto the lake a few miles down the road. That’s a different story, though, and despite any previous shortcomings associated with his ideas, he can usually somehow still manage to convince Kimberly to go along with them. She is his best friend, after all. His partner in crime.

Today, James gets a bad idea.

“Let’s come back out here at midnight and go explore the Redwoods,” he says.

Kimberly ponders his suggestion for a second, trying to decide which reason to settle on in the very long list of why they shouldn’t do any such thing. “What if the old man catches us?” She would’ve tried to appeal to James’ sense of understanding by saying that her parents would be mad if they found out she left the house after her curfew at 11, but they are out of town that night on a business trip for her dad’s job, and James knows this.

“He’s an old man. He probably goes to bed at like 8.”

As usual, she knows she’ll have to give in. “Meet at my house at 11:30 then?”

“Perfect.”

Kimberly still thinks it’s a bad idea, but she’s waiting patiently for James at 11:30, just like she said she would be. He shows up 5 minutes late with 2 shovels and a flashlight in his hand.

“Gonna drop these off at the clubhouse on the way there,” he says, lifting the shovels. “Hope you have a flashlight. I could only find one.”

She nods, pulling one out of her pocket. It’s a small flashlight, but she flicks it on, and it throws a surprisingly powerful beam of light. James still laughs though.

“Don’t you have anything bigger?” he asks.

“Just this and a lantern. I don’t know where my dad keeps the other flashlights.”

“Hey, that might be handy. Bring the lantern,” James says. He doesn’t ask very nicely, but Kimberly goes to get the lantern. James doesn’t always speak with the nicest words, but she knows that’s just how he is when he gets excited. Her father even told her once that the only reason he lets her go out so much is because he feels better knowing that James is with her. He says that he can tell that James is very protective of her, almost like an older brother that sometimes playfully picks on his younger sibling, but if anyone else touches that sibling, he’d beat that person to a pulp.

Kimberly agrees with that assessment, but she’d never tell her father why – that James cold clocked some guy at school because that guy spread a rumor that Kimberly slept with him. Of course, Kimberly didn’t sleep with that guy. She barely even knows him.  High school kids are just mean sometimes.

James and Kimberly trudge along the trail by the ditch. It’s dark out, but the moon is three-quarters full, so they don’t need to use their flashlights yet. They’re each holding a shovel, using them as makeshift walking sticks. It takes about 15 minutes of walking at that pace to reach the Oaks.

It’s really creepy there at night, Kimberly decides. She pulls her flashlight out of her pocket and holds it with the power button resting under her thumb. She doesn’t turn it on, but she feels better knowing that it can be on within an instant if she needs it. She doesn’t tell James that she’s a little scared, though.

“The Oaks are so different at night,” he observes. “We should camp out here one night and build a fire.”

Kimberly thinks that’s the worst idea she’s heard all day; even worse than the idea that James came up with that led to her being exactly where she is right now. She doesn’t argue though. “Yeah, maybe so.” She just hopes he’ll forget about it.

They reach the club house and drop off the shovels. James realizes that he needs to find a good, sturdy branch to replace the shovel as his walking stick, so he borrows one from the pile they’ve gathered to use for club house building supplies. Kimberly is glad to have her hand free though, because now she can hold the lantern in one hand and the flashlight in the other.

The sounds of the Oaks at night are only slightly different than during the day. Dexter is hooting somewhere, but that crazy owl does that sometimes at 2 in the afternoon, even though owls are supposed to be nocturnal. They don’t bother Dexter when they see him during the day, and in exchange, Dexter doesn’t bother them. He just stares with his big, owl eyes, and occasionally, Kimberly and James stare back. Kimberly noticed the feather pattern around Dexter’s eyes that make it look like he’s wearing glasses, and that’s how Dexter got his name. James thinks it’s a name fitting of a smart, glasses-wearing person. Because all people that need corrective eyewear are smart, in James’ 16-year old mind.

Before they exit the Oaks, they decide to turn their lights off. If, by chance, the old man is awake, it would be easy to spot the lights in the open field. They’d wait and turn the lights back on when they get to the Redwoods.

They exit the Oaks and, for the first time, pass the pink-flagged stick and continue toward the trees off in the distance. James really likes to explore, so he’s visibly excited. Kimberly really likes to explore too, but she really likes it to be daytime while she’s at it. However, she feels a little excited. She’s a good girl, after all, and right now, she’s breaking the rules.

They see the old man’s house far off in the distance, and James says, “Definitely a good idea to leave the lights off for now.” Kimberly nods.

The Redwoods are farther away than they thought, but the trek is worth it. It takes about 10 minutes to walk there, but the walk is made longer because they have to pay attention to where they are walking. To get to the Oaks, there is a safe, reliable trail. To get to the Redwoods, there is no trail, and there could be ruts to trip and sprain your ankle over, or heck, even a hole to fall in. James leads the way, because he is a man, and that’s what men do. Even 16 year old men.

Once they reach the edge of the Redwoods, the old man’s house clearly out of view behind the trees, they flick on their lights. Kimberly holds up her lantern and causes the trees to cast hundreds of shadows in every which way. She immediately regrets this, and turns the lantern off. Way too creepy.

James laughs at her. “The shadows aren’t going to hurt you.” She knows this, but she feels better with just her little flashlight casting its straight beam of light only in front of her.

“There’s not as many trees here as I thought there’d be,” Kimberly says without a hint of disappointment. James agrees silently with a nod, but Kimberly doesn’t see it because her gaze is affixed on the tree trunk in front of her.

“What is this?” she asks. She doesn’t mean to question what the object is, though. It’s obviously a worn, old shirt hanging over a branch. Her question, rather, contains a hint of wonder as to what the shirt is doing there, and James knows this, because they’ve never seen the old man – or anyone else for that matter – venture out to the Redwoods.

“I wonder who brought this out here,” James says. It’s supposed to be a rhetorical question, since obviously neither of the two of them know, but as they turn to walk farther into the trees, they’re met face-to-face with a hardened-looking, middle-aged man that wears the fiercest look that either James or Kimberly has ever seen.

This man may be older than they are, and he may appear mean, but both James and Kimberly know that this man is not the old man that owns the property. This man is someone else, and strangely, they both wish that it is the old man instead.

“Uh…hello, sir,” James says. It comes out meek, though, and Kimberly grabs at his shirt sleeve, tugging gently, as if to say “don’t tell him hello, let’s just run!”

The man doesn’t return James’ greeting, though. The man isn’t concerned with cordialities; rather, he is more concerned with the fact that someone – no, two someones – have seen his face. His face is on the evening news, and his face is plastered in newspapers, because he is a wanted man. James and Kimberly don’t know this, but he knows it, and now he knows that he can’t let these kids escape.

The man reaches out to grab James, but James is quick, and he nimbly dodges the hand. Kimberly doesn’t need to yank at his sleeve anymore, because now they’re both on the same page. They want out of there – now.

They both turn and run as fast as their legs will carry them. What the man wants with them, they don’t know, but it can’t be anything good, and that is all the motivation they need.

They break free of the Redwoods and head straight for the Oaks. They were careful walking toward the Redwoods, but now they aren’t even looking down as they ran. The Oaks are the goal; that group of trees is the only thing they need to see.

“Get back here you little shitheads!” the man yells from behind them.

“How close is he?” Kimberly wonders, but doesn’t dare turn her head to see. She is actually pretty impressed with herself, given the circumstances. James is a faster runner than her, but she is matching him stride for stride. Or maybe he is matching her so that she won’t get left behind.

“I’m going to beat your asses into the dirt when I catch you!”

James knows with absolute certainty now that this is a bad dude, and he quickly hatches a plan in his head. There are 2 shovels back at the club house. Great for digging holes, also great for smacking the shit out of a low-life scumbag that wants to do harm to him and his best friend. They’re already outrunning him by a bit, which he chalks up to the fact that they’re young and healthy, and the man chasing them appears as though he’s seen better days.

James turns to Kimberly and whispers, “The shovels, we need to get the shovels.” He hopes she’ll understand his intentions, but at the very least, she’ll understand where he’s going to lead her.

They enter the Oaks about 10 seconds ahead of the man. It’s a pretty decent lead, but James has seen a lot of movies. James knows that a lead like that means nothing if Kimberly trips or if he suddenly gets a cramp. He knows they have to take care of this guy. Make it where he can’t chase them anymore.

The club house is right there. James has never been so happy to see it, but as he slides to a halt, he comes to a horrible realization: the shovels are gone. Vanished. Disappeared.

No, it’s impossible. He looks again, but they’re obviously not where he left them. Kimberly looks confused, but James doesn’t have the time to explain. He goes to grab her wrist and shouts, “Run!” But as he reaches out, he stumbles, misses, and falls forward. It’s like straight out of a movie. He can’t believe he fell, but he knows he doesn’t have time for disbelief, so he goes to get up, but his lead on the man is lost. James is now planted on the ground directly beneath the man that he’s been running from. The look on the man’s face is of exhaustion, but it’s laced with sinisterness. James can almost feel the evil aura coming from this man, and he is terrified of it.

“Get out of here, Kimberly!” he screams. It’s futile, though. He knows she won’t leave him there.

Kimberly is crying, but she doesn’t realize it. She’s still holding the flashlight, but her lantern has fallen out of her hand and is lying on the ground. If only they hadn’t gone to the Redwoods. If only she would’ve said no to one of James’ bad ideas for once. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but that’s one of the last things she wants to do at a time like this.

“Neither of you are getting out of here alive,” the man says. James and Kimberly both know that the man intends on making those words come true.

Kimberly, through her tears, sees something behind the man, but it’s too dark for her to make out what it is. “What’s that?” she says.

“Right, like I would fall for the oldest trick in the book,” the man says.

Hoo! Hoo!

Kimberly and James recognize the sound immediately. The man is startled though, and turns to look, but instead of being faced with Dexter, there is an old, gray-haired man standing there gripping 2 shovels together with both of his hands. He’s already mid-swing, and by the time the man has turned around, there is no time to dodge. The old man’s attack connects with the side of the younger man’s head, and he is instantly knocked out cold. He falls to the ground next to James, and not skipping a beat, James jumps up and runs over to Kimberly.

“You…you’re my neighbor,” Kimberly says, bewildered at the old man who is now standing there, holding the two shovels and looking like a prospector.

The old man doesn’t acknowledge Kimberly’s remark though, and instead opts for the more important route of conversation. “You kids okay?”

James looks at Kimberly, who then looks back at him and nods. “We’re fine,” James says. “Thank you.”

“Good. You kids shouldn’t be out this late, you know.”

“We’re sorry,” Kimberly says.

“You also shouldn’t have been on my property,” he says. “But don’t say you’re sorry. I know you are.”

James and Kimberly don’t know what to say, so they remain silent.

“I’ll stay here and watch over this fella. You kids go call the cops.”

“But what if he wakes up?” James says.

“I’ll be fine. Now go. Skedaddle.”

The kids nod and run back to Kimberly’s house. James dials 911 and the cops take no more than 10 minutes to arrive. Three of them show up, but in two separate cars. It’s a small town, after all, so they usually don’t have a whole lot going on.

James leads two policemen out to the Oaks while Kimberly stays back at the house with an officer. She’s scared, and the cop understands and wants to comfort her, so he stays behind.

The man is still out cold when they arrive, but the old man is nowhere to be found. The shovels are lying on the ground though, so James points to them and says, “That’s what the old man knocked this guy out with.” The police handcuff the man and drag him and the shovels back to their patrol car.

James is worried about the old man, though. Where had he gone?

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll stop by his house to make sure he’s okay,” the biggest of the 3 cops says. Both cars take off, and Kimberly rushes over and holds James, crying in his embrace. James is scared too. He knows he won’t sleep tonight, and he isn’t looking forward to telling his parents or Kimberly’s parents what happened. Word will get around if they don’t, and they are in big trouble either way.

They sit there silently for 15 minutes, when suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. James looks through the peephole, and it’s the cop that had stayed behind with Kimberly. He opens the door.

“Yeah, uh…” the cop says. “You kids said that old man saved you, right?”

James nods. “Yeah, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”

“Kid, I don’t quite know how to say this, but that old man…he’s been dead for at least a week. We found his body in the lounge chair in his living room.”

1 Comment, Written on December 31st, 2011 , Chapter, Drama, Short Story, Writing Experiments

For a long time, I thought Nadine would never get over Oliver.  I watched from afar at first, but it was – as the old saying goes – like looking at a car wreck.  It was awful, but I just couldn’t look away.

I’d met the two of them a year or so ago, and they were already dating by then.  The three of us had a class together, and when we were asked to do a project in groups of three, they instantly paired up, and I became the third wheel.

I instantly took a liking to the both of them.  They were funny, and I thought at first that they were perfect for each other, but Nadine would make really scathing remarks every once in a while behind Oliver’s back when we were out doing our girl stuff, and that really bothered me.

“I wish he wasn’t such a moron.”

I didn’t know what she was talking about.  No matter if she was talking about common sense or book knowledge, Oliver was – at the very least – smarter than her, so she had no right to say that.  It was always so random, too.  We’d be out shopping, she’d pick a dress out of a rack, look at it, and then say, “My stupid boyfriend wouldn’t like this on me anyway.”

When they came down to blows, I stayed completely out of it.  I wanted to tell Oliver some of the things Nadine said about him, but I held my tongue.  I knew better than to get involved.

Sometimes, Oliver would stop by my apartment without Nadine.

“You feel like talking?” he’d say.

“Of course.”  I always made it a point to be available for friends when they needed someone to talk to.

Much to my surprise, he’d always come right out with a zinger like, “Do you think Nadine loves me?”

Times like those were really hard on me.  I liked Nadine a lot at first, but I quickly realized she was a brat, and Oliver was blind to it because he loved her for whatever dumb reason.

A few months later, a little more than half a year after I met them, Oliver finally wised up and broke up with her.  I had nothing to do with it, of course.  I know better than to get involved now, just like I knew back them.  That didn’t stop me from being happy for Oliver, though.

Nadine was a different story, though.

“Ugh, Felicity, he is SO stupid,” she said.  I really didn’t want to be out with Nadine, because without her (much) better half, she was dull and just plain mean.

“Why do you always call him names?”

“Because he’s a dick.”

Had she always been like this?  I couldn’t believe I had ever considered her a friend.  ”You know, you weren’t exactly the nicest girlfriend in the world,” I said.  ”Maybe if you would have treated him better…”

“Oh please,” she interrupted.  ”He’ll figure out his mistake and come crawling back to me within a week.”

Of course, he didn’t.  A week passed.  Two weeks passed.  A month passed.  She still texted me, but otherwise, I avoided Nadine.  Oliver and I still talked and hung out pretty often though.  I was finally able to tell him the things that Nadine used to say about him, but rather than get upset, he just laughed.

“She was so caught up in her own little world,” he said. “Oh well, we live and we learn, right?”

And that was that with Oliver.  He and I talked about Nadine sometimes, but it was largely to laugh at ourselves for putting up with her.

About 2 months after they broke up, Nadine suddenly snapped.  Up until then, she was still operating under the assumption that Oliver was still in love with her and would be begging on his knees at her doorstep to get her back.  When the truth hit her, she became intoxicated with fury.

I got a text from her for the first time in about a week that said, “Felicity – if you see Oliver, tell his stupid ass to call me.”

I showed Oliver the text the next day, to which he replied, “Fat chance.  Oh yeah, that reminds me,” and then pulled out his phone and deleted her number.

Nadine didn’t stop texting me, though.  ”Why didn’t he call me yet?”  ”Did you tell him what I said?”  ”He won’t answer my calls.  Did you tell him?”

Finally, I’d had enough.  ”Nadine – stop involving me in this.”

She didn’t like my reply.  Not even one little bit.  She suddenly flooded my phone with texts.  Some of them were her asking, “Please,” but the later ones involved her calling me a bitch, and then insinuating that I was trying to steal her man.

I ignored the texts, and the next day, I called my cell carrier and had her number blocked.

“Wow, she’s really gone off the deep end, hasn’t she?” Oliver said as he read through some of the texts later that day.  ”Look at what she sent me this morning.”

I took his phone and read the message he’d brought up on the screen.  ”Are you and that little whore-bag Felicity dating now???”

“Wow, so I’m a whore-bag now?”

“I guess so,” he laughed.  ”What is that supposed to be, even?”

“Who knows, who cares.”

Since then, Nadine has not stopped emailing me about Oliver.  That’s how I know she’s still not over him.  At first, I was going to block her, but the messages were so pathetic.  She still insisted that I was a “dirty, cheating, whore-bag” – though since Oliver and I had no interest in dating, I don’t know why she still thought that, or who she thought I was cheating.  Certainly not her, since she was the farthest thing from a friend that I had.

“I’m so sorry that she still bothers you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Oliver.  It’s pretty amusing.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange, though?  She stopped bothering me like 4 or 5 months ago, but she still tries to contact you.”

“I know, right?  She’s so ridiculous.”

“I wonder if maybe she has a little girl-crush on you?”  We both stared at each other until we busted out laughing, and kept on until our sides hurt.

Sometimes, even when you try to stay uninvolved in a conflict, you still can find yourself in the middle of it.  That’s okay, though, because great friends are worth putting up with a minor annoyance.

Leave A Comment, Written on December 20th, 2011 , Drama, Short Story

In elementary school while in 4th grade, I met a girl named Marika. Her name was pronounced like the name Marie, but with a -ka on the end. Some boys called her “America” as a joke, but I couldn’t bring myself to make fun of her name because it was unique, unlike mine – Chris.

We remained friends throughout middle school and high school, but we were never really close. I’d been to her house multiple times for parties, but that was about it.

College changed everything, though. From our small town, we were the only 2 people that went to a particular university 2 states away. I don’t know why she picked that university, but it had a good biological science program, and that’s why I went.

We started talking and hanging out more often during the last couple of months of high school when we realized that besides each other, there was probably not a single person that either of us knew that would be going that that school.

That summer was one of the most important summers of my life. We got a lot closer, or, at least, close enough to decide to rent an apartment together, which I guess is pretty close. I never expected her to become my best friend, especially not so quickly, but by the 3rd week of school, I was sure of it.

We clicked in a very unique way, but maybe it was only unique to me because my best friends had always been guys. She’d drag me off with her to the mall, and suddenly, even though I’d always hated shopping, it wasn’t so bad anymore. I’d make her go see stupid guy movies with me, and she’d laugh her ass off the entire time.

Toward the middle of our sophomore year, Marika started dating a guy named Dillon. She always brought her boyfriends by the apartment to get my opinion on them, and he seemed like a pretty decent guy. Usually, I was a pretty decent judge of character, but with Dillon, I was way off the mark.

A couple of weeks later, Marika came home crying at 1 in the morning with a black eye.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Dillon…hit me,” she timidly responded.

“WHAT?!”

I was furious.

“It’s not the first time,” she bawled. “I didn’t know what to do!”

She turned around and lifted up the back of of her shirt. There were three other bruises spread across the upper and lower part of her back.

I couldn’t see straight – could hardly breathe.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. I tried my best to not let my anger affect my tone of voice toward her, though. She was scared and hurt, and screaming at her wouldn’t help that. “I would’ve helped you.”

“I know, I know,” she cried. “But I was scared. He said he’d hurt me worse. I thought I would just keep waiting to wake up from this nightmare.”

“It’s over,” I said, holding her in my arms and stroking her hair with my hand as gently as I could. “I will never let that monster hurt you ever again.”

It took everything I had to not throw on some clothes, drive to that bastard’s house, and beat the living daylights out of him. Marika needed a friend though, and I was certainly not abandoning her to cause even more violence.

She cried herself to sleep that night on the sofa. I threw a blanket on her and sat across from her thinking. I tried to sleep, but my head was spinning with thoughts that wouldn’t give way to slumber. Dillon might as well have punched my own mother in the face, and I don’t think I could’ve been more infuriated.

I finally nodded off sometime around 3 or 4. I actually had a pretty good dream that night, but I still woke up in a foul mood at around 10 the next morning. Marika was awake, but she hadn’t moved from her spot on the sofa.

“Hey, how you holdin’ up?” I said.

I”‘m okay,” she said.

“What do you want for breakfast? I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Anything?” she asked.

“Yes, anything.”

“Will you make French toast with strawberries and cream on top?”

“Coming right up!” I smiled, adding under my breath, “As long as it’ll cheer you up.”

I went in the kitchen and made breakfast, the entire time with Marika commenting on how good it smelled.

“Breakfast is served!” I said as I finished the last piece.

Watching her savor her breakfast made me feel a little better. If she could forget about what had happened for a little while, then all the work of preparing a nice breakfast was worth it.

knock knock knock

“A visitor at 10:30?” I said.

“Wonder who that could be?” Marika said.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Someone that’s very impatient, apparently,” I said, getting up to answer the door.

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR, MARIKA,” a voice screamed from outside.

I froze. Dillon.

“Oh no…” Marika timidly whispered from behind me.

I flung the door open, didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. I swung my fist back and clocked that son of a bitch square between the eyes. He staggered back, fazed but still upright.

“What the…” he stammered.

“Stay the HELL away from Marika,” I gritted through my teeth, eyes fierce with rage. “If you come anywhere near her or this apartment again, I will call the police so fast your ass wont even know what happened. And don’t you even DARE threaten her through ANY means EVER again.”

“Look man, I was just coming to apologize, you don’t have to…” he started.

“Stop. I don’t care. You are a miserable little boy, and I wont give you the chance to try to rid yourself of the guilt. Now get out of here you giant, insufferable douchebag.”

I didn’t think he’d actually leave, but he turned and spit on the ground, and then walked away.

I slammed the door and only then did I feel my hand throbbing from hitting Dillon so hard.  Marika stared at me for a few seconds until silent tears started to fall down her cheeks.  There was no sobbing, no noise to indicate she was crying.  Just tears.

“He isn’t worth crying over,” I said, breaking the tension of the silence.

“I’m not crying over him,” she said, her voice quivering.

“What are they teardrops for, then?”

“I never thought I’d have a friend that cared about me as much as you do,” she said.

Silence enveloped the room.  I wasn’t expecting that response at all.  I was touched, yet I couldn’t respond.  She had been so sad, yet her tears were those of happiness?  Tears because I was in her life?

“T-thanks,” I finally mustered.  She smiled, though still crying, and got up out of the chair.

She didn’t speak, she didn’t even make noise as she walked.  Inches from me, she stopped, wrapped her arms around me, and locked them there.  I could feel the moisture from her cheeks soaking into my shirt as she buried her face into my chest.

“Marika…”

“Don’t make me let go,” she said, her voice muffled, though still intelligible.

Then, there was silence.  I could hear her breathing and nothing else for at least 10 minutes.  She just stood there, holding me, and I held her.  I wasn’t sure what was running through her head, but if this was what she needed, then I’d gladly give it to her.

She’d finally woken up from her nightmare.

Leave A Comment, Written on November 28th, 2011 , Based on a Song, Drama, Short Story

It’s just me, her, and the road underneath,

She glides down asphalt like a sword into a sheath,

I press down the pedal and zip into fourth,

Top end evens out, giving way from torque.

“This is crazy,” I think – the speed, the thrill!

Like a lion on the hunt, going in for the kill.

Her nose points straight, an arrow to course,

In the dust she will leave regret and remorse.

Beyond the horizon the sun starts to fall,

Grins, pride – having answered the road’s call.

“Thanks for the fun,” as I pull her inside,

Still intoxicated from the thrill of the ride.

Leave A Comment, Written on November 21st, 2011 , Poetry

“Hey, wake up.   It’s your move,” Cecelia said.

“Huh?”

“Are you daydreaming again?” she asked.

“I guess I was.”  I took a pawn and moved it forward a space.

“Well, it’s Saturday night and we’re sitting in your parents’ kitchen playing chess, so I guess I can’t blame you,” she said.

“Look at the bright side,” I said.  “At least neither of us is alone on this dreary day.”

“Yeah,” she laughed.  “Thanks again for letting me stay here during the hurricane.  It would’ve sucked to be alone.”

“No problem.  I’m surprised your parents didn’t cancel their trip when they found out about the hurricane.”

“Non-refundable plane tickets to Europe for a 20th wedding anniversary getaway can hardly be thwarted by a measly category 2 storm,” she smiled.

“Well, that measly storm sure as hell knocked out the power,” I said.

“Chess by lantern is sadly our most entertaining option right now,” she said.

“According to who?”

“Why else would we be playing if there was something better to do?” she asked.

“Well…” Excitement suddenly widened my smile.  “Ever been outside in 109 MPH winds?”

“David…we’re in the middle of a freaking hurricane.  No way am I going outside.”

“Oh, come on CeCe, you even called it a ‘measly storm.’  Let’s go out there and screw around!” I said.

“What if your parents-”

“It’s 11 PM.  My parents are asleep.”

“Isn’t that another good reason not to go outside?  It’s pitch black, and if something happens to us, no one will know.”

“Remember that time in 2nd grade that you made me pretend to be sick in the middle of class so we could ditch school?  Remember how we both got caught before we even got off of school property?” I said.

“Oh come on, that was like 12 years ago!”

“And?”

“We’re going to get soaked!  It’s pouring out there!” she said.

“What, are you going to melt?”

“Yes.  I am the Wicked Witch of the Southeast.”

“Oh please, you’re like the sweetest person on the planet,” I said.

“Sweetness is from sugar, and sugar melts.”

“You can twist this around any way you want, but we’re going for a stroll outside.”

“A stroll?  You don’t stroll through a hurricane,” she said.

“Fine, then we’re going for a promenade in the rain.”

“That’s like the same thing!  You can’t use gentle-sounding words to make taking a walk outside in the middle of a hurricane sound any better to me.”

“How about ‘romp’ then?”

“Better, but I’m still not going.  I don’t want to have to take a shower or blow dry my hair or anything.”

“Fine, then I’ll go by myself,” I said.

“You won’t go by yourself.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Um…because you’ll miss me?” she said.

“Oh please, CeCe.  Just because we’ve been friends for 14 years doesn’t mean I can’t stand to be away from you for more than 15 minutes.”

“I still don’t think you’ll go,” she said.  There was a growing look of nervousness on her face.

“Why?”

“Um…”

“Do you not want me to go?” I asked.  A few seconds passed before she nodded.

“I’m scared,” she said.

“Scared to be left alone in the dark?” I asked.

“Well, that too, but scared for you.  I don’t want you to get hurt.  It’s dangerous out there.”

“Aww, I’m sorry CeCe.  I won’t go.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

“No problem.  I’m sure there will be a lot more hurricanes for me to go frolicking in,” I grinned.

“You better not,” she laughed.  “If you do and you get hurt, I’m not visiting you in the hospital!”

“Whatever, let’s get back to our boring game of hurricane chess,” I said.

“We could make it more interesting,” she said.

“How?”

“By turning it into strip chess,” she said.

“Like I would ever believe you would be serious about that.”

“You know me like a book,” she grinned.

“Oh, shut up and take your turn.”

Leave A Comment, Written on November 15th, 2011 , Short Story

Iambic pentameter all up in this.

There is no substitute for her warm eyes,

The way she viewed the world was far too kind,

She looked upon others with sincere smiles,

The world did change when she became all mine.

She gave to me a gift that I still bear,

To falter not in kindness that we share,

Respect can go much farther than a mile,

When distance separates us more than time.

Sometimes I dream of her when I’m asleep,

This fondness in my mind I wish to keep,

Though hearts can often make fools of us all,

A fool I do not feel as I recall.

Leave A Comment, Written on November 8th, 2011 , Poetry

It has been quite some time since I’ve seen  you,

I guess that has its ups and downs,

But your smile made me question everything,

And though I may never know you any better,

At least I have known you in the first place,

Though, maybe our paths will converge,

In which case, I look forward to perspectives

different than than those I am familiar with.

Leave A Comment, Written on November 7th, 2011 , Poetry

I’ve seen you before,

But we haven’t spoken much,

You radiate, you shine,

The day is made brighter

when you walk outside,

I want to know you,

I want to laugh with you,

I want to share time,

So let’s slow down,

Let’s not let this sign

on the highway pass us by.

Leave A Comment, Written on November 3rd, 2011 , Poetry

Where are you?

You that haunts me,

Such vivid happiness

that I’ve seen in slumber,

Please don’t go,

Take me with you,

Let me feel this feeling

just a little longer,

I need to tell you

just how I feel,

That you affect me

like no other could

or should ever hope to,

But our time was so short,

How can feelings

so deep exist?

I wake up

confused and alone,

Realize that you’re gone,

That you were never there,

Still convinced that

you’re real,

I know you are,

So where are you?

Leave A Comment, Written on November 3rd, 2011 , Poetry

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