july 9, 2003



At last, it was senior year. The sun danced along the park floor with sharp rays that caught the glistening lake with blinding ripples. Smoke wafted into the air from a slide that'd seen better days. Duct tape hugged a crack in the rough plastic. Another crack was not even a foot away. The green paint, vaguely once the color of leaf during the height of summer, now rendered dim like a dying flower. Caution tape bordered the end of the slide, now inhabited by a bundle of cobwebs vacant of life.



At the top on plastic-wrapped metal crouched Jonah and Andrew, peering off the edge of the slide between the metal bars to gingerly watch the parents and children of the park. A cigarette passed between them and a red lighter hung loosely between Jonah’s opposite middle and index fingers.



“Jonny,” Andrew hissed as the cigarette nearly slipped from Jonah’s grip. The orange-tipped edge momentarily sizzled against the floor.



Jonah lifted his hand and tapped the ash out between one of the holes. He watched it fall into the wood chips.



“Andy,” he looked up at Andrew with a knowing grin growing across his lips. His icy eyes met Andrew’s bitter hazel ones as he cocked his head.



“This is our last one. Don’t kill it.” Andrew scolded as Jonah took a drag.



A sweet smile played on Jonah’s face as he pushed the cigarette back into Andrew’s fingers. Andrew scowled.



“So temperamental,” Jonah annunciated the syllables as he sat back against Andrew’s backpack that was leaning up against one of the metal guardrails.



“What does ‘temper—’ fuck, ‘temp-er-ment-al’ mean?” Andrew glared at Jonah.



He shrugged. “I don't know, I heard one of the teachers say it.”



A long, silent pause thickened between them as they both turned toward a creaking swing where a little girl swung. As the air tensed between them, Andrew looked back at Jonah.



“Which teacher?”



“The fat one.”



“Which teacher?” Andrew repeated.



“Freeman.”



Andrew grimaced, “I hate that guy.”



“I don't know. He’s chill,” Jonah averted his gaze slyly.



“Get the fuck out of my face,” Andrew growled. Jonah giggled.



Andrew reached over and smacked Jonah’s face as he wrestled him onto the floor. Jonah grunted and grabbed at Andrew’s face, gasping between laughs. Andrew grappled Jonah’s collar until Jonah’s knee knocked against his stomach. Andrew toppled over. Jonah sat up, hair ruffled and face flushed as he caught his breath.



Andrew checked his hands and then looked at Jonah’s. He swiftly searched the playscape floor before noticing an orange light deep in the wood chips, flickering with a dying light. They both looked down to where the cigarette had fallen off the side, making eye contact, and breaking into another fit of laughter.



As his laughter subsided, Andrew leapt off of the side of the playscape. Jonah fought with Andrew’s backpack, swinging the black strap over his shoulders before landing behind him. Andrew stamped out the cigarette and beckoned Jonah away from the playground as he began stalking away.



Jonah and Andrew passed onto a nearby trail between the rocks and trees. Jonah trotted to Andrew’s side, swinging his arms in tandem to his steps. “Why do I gotta hold the bag?”



“You don’t. You just keep hogging it.”



“You left it for me to grab!”



Andrew shoved Jonah and he stumbled sideways. Jonah returned to his side just as fast.



They approached an overgrown section of the sunlit trail, the only part that wasn’t shaded by a canopy of leaves overhead. A merry-go-round was tangled in ivy and tall grass tickled its sides. Jonah leapt atop of it, stomping a skittering black beetle that contrasted with the merry-go-rounds peeling yellow-and-green paint until it flattened against the surface.



“Don’t get my bag wrapped up in that shit,” Andrew grumbled and stalked over to the merry-go-round, taking hand of the side and trying to twist it out of the foliage. He wretched it side-to-side, slowly loosening the arm of a vine wrapped around the base.



A flash of sunlight reflected harshly against the exposed metal, making Jonah wince. Ducking his head, he began jumping up-and-down to hear the old thing creak.



As the sun flickered between the trees, Jonah disregarded the merry-go-round and returned to the trail, kicking a few pebbles out of his way. He staggered two steps forward before turning around, waving Andrew over.



Andrew stared, fisting a vine wrapped around one of the metal bars in the center, before reluctantly releasing it and trudging over to Jonah.



They continued down the trail. Jonah swayed with a forward hunch and lazily swung his arms, while Andrew remained collected with gentle movement in his shoulders. His chin propped high as his eyes rolled from the sky, to the trees, to the trail ahead. Occasionally, Jonah’s arm bumped Andrew’s.



They found themselves at a worn wooden over a small river cutting through the trail. Andrew paused and leaned over the painted guardrail, peering over the edge and into the green-dappled stream. Jonah, having almost cleared the bridge, stepped back and folded his arms over the side as well beside Andrew.



“Do you think anyone else ever comes down here?” Jonah hums to himself. Andrew doesn’t look over, but he shrugs, flicking a rock from the wooden rail into the river.



“Once upon a time,” says Andrew, “Why else would they add gravel?”



“The train tracks.”



“So it’s a suicide path?”



Jonah laughed and followed as Andrew moved away from the edge.



The bridge led into a sunny area that opened into a clearing, the dirt trail turning to gravel as they approached a field once used for picnics and parties.



Jonah took off running the moment his feet hit the grass, forcing Andrew to chase him. He began laughing, sprinting through the open field as the sun glared down at him. Andrew grabbed onto the handle of his backpack and yanked Jonah to a stop. The motion made Jonah jerk and they collapsed in the grass breathlessly. Jonah reached his hand up to whack at Andrew who squirmed in retaliation. As their heartbeats slowed, they looked up at the dawning sky.



“It’s golden hour somewhere,” Andrew sighs, his palms closing over his chest.



Jonah slowly relaxed his head into the grass, staring silently up at the sky as it blossomed pink and purple like a bruise. The sun was blocked by the surrounding forest, but the pale yellow sheen still brightened the clearing.



After a silent pause, the two rose and prowled until they found a tree.



Andrew climbed up first and steadied himself on a branch before reaching down to grab Jonah’s hand. He hoisted him up by the arm and handle of his backpack. As Jonah settled, he rested Andrew’s backpack between his legs. Andrew shuffled through the bag for a cheap notebook with a tanned cover. “AH” and “JD” was engraved in the front by something no sharper than a pocket knife, the corners of each letter were jaggedly pointed.



Andrew brushed through the pages as Jonah handed him the old pen he’d found on the floor a few days before finals. A cheap blue one that often refuses to write or draw. Each page of the notebook was assorted neatly with articulated handwriting that was deliberately readable. A few scribbled notes were in the margins, including times, dates, or doodles. Sketches were drawn across the pages, each no complex than an idea with such detail that they were readable. Jonah clutched the rough bark with his finger tips while he craned his head to look over at the pages.



As Andrew found a blank page, he scribbled the pen in the topmost margin until ink reluctantly flowed out. He wrote the date at the top. Afterward, he chewed on the tip and looked at Jonah narrowly, who leaned back against the base of the tree. A few blond strands fell messily in his face as he turned his head toward the horizon.



“Temperamental, Freeman said,” Andrew muttered bitterly as he jotted a few things down in the notebook. Jonah only looked over when Andrew looked up. “As if Freeman is one to use large words. As if he isn’t a fucking retard like all the rest of them. Talking down to me— you’ve seen it!”



“The way he gets more condescending towards you?” Jonah clarifies.



“Yes!”



“The way he looks down upon you? Acts like he’s better than you?”



“Uses that stupid fucking tone— that's it.”



“I hate him.”



“I hate that entire fucking school.”



Jonah cracked a smile, toying with the straps of Andrew’s backpack as Andrew continued to write.



“I wouldn’t be failing if it weren’t for them.” Andrew glared at Jonah, who nodded with the same smile from the park.



Jonah crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re right.”



“I wish they went down—”



Jonah looked to the sunset.



“—Like the sun.”



Andrew clicked the pen against the page and sketched the horizon line across the bottommost margin.



“Fuck them,” he chewed on the back of his pen again, then the base of his finger, before pounding the branch he sat on. “Fuck the entire school.”



“We’re smarter than them,” Jonah mused.



“We're smarter than everybody!”



“Smarter than God?”



Andrew stared at Jonah. Their eyes bore into each others for a few beats before they both resumed their fidgeting.



“God is a concept.” Andrew muttered.



“So is intelligence,” Jonah clicked his tongue.



“Do you believe in God?” Andrew squinted at Jonah.



“No.”



“I didn’t think so,” he looked back down, “It would be surprising if you did.”



Jonah laughed, “If God was real, I wouldn't crave a barrel in my palm.”



The sliver of a smile grew on Andrew’s face.



As the sky darkened, Andrew closed the notebook and slipped it back into his bag. He slid off the branch and landed with a thud on the ground. He gestured toward Jonah, who dropped the backpack into his open hands, before leaping off the tree as well. Andrew held the bag by the handle, trudging toward the train tracks with heavy steps. Jonah followed suit.



By the time they reached the train tracks, the first few stars of the night were beginning to wink down at them, and Jonah had the backpack swung over his shoulders once again. A thick forest hid the train from the rest of society, but not from them. They walked on top of the tracks and Jonah outstretched his arms like wings. Andrew had fisted his hands into his pockets, gaze low as he watched his hefty boots eat up sections of the railway.



Jonah leapt around, racing along the tracks. He hopped into the center, leaping from each wooden section, before returning to the rail. He looked back at Andrew and waited for him to catch up.



“Are you going to be at my birthday?”



Jonah looks over. “No shit. Nah, Andrew, I’m ditching you on your big 18.”



Andrew chuckled, “When will you be 18?”



“I'm dying 17.” They both smirked.



“Does death scare you?” Andrew called as Jonah raced ahead.



Jonah jumped around, swinging his arms as he howled, “No, I’m thrilled! Death excites me!”



Andrew trotted after Jonah until he slowed and shoved him off the rail. He jumped after Jonah, gravel crunching beneath his boots as he looked back to the trail.



“I don’t want to go back to the house,” Jonah admitted as he looked back to the park.



“Then don’t.”