Can’t have that. Don’t want that.
I should...quit. I should quit right now. Cold turkey. Detonate the whole habit like the Death Star. I look down at my baggie and it’s still full of bud. That’s got to go. I take a sharp rock and use it to dig a hole. Once it’s deep enough to conceal what’s left, I dump it onto the ground and then use my foot to cover it back up with dirt.
Okay, that’s better.
Wait, what if it grows?
No, hold up, I’m not Jack and this ain’t no beanstalk. Hell, I’d have planted my weed a long time ago if I thought I could cultivate it myself and not do business with Jasper.
What about the pipe, though? What if she gets cold today and asks for my hoodie? I wanna be a gentleman, right? I’d need to cover her shoulders like they do in all those late ’80s rom-coms. Giving her my jacket seems like a real Tom Hanks gesture. No one doesn’t love Tom Hanks. But what if she reaches in my pocket and feels my pipe? That’s not cool. Tom Hanks would never pull a move like that. Need to get rid of it, destroy the evidence.
I take the pipe and throw it into the small stream that runs under the trestle. The current begins to slowly carry it away.
Shit, should I have wiped off my fingerprints? What if someone finds it? Will I go to jail? She won’t like me then! I scramble after the pipe and fish it out of the water. I wipe down the whole thing with the corner of my hoodie. I hold it with the tail of my T-shirt as I rub so I don’t cover it with new DNA.
Better. Much better. Mucho mejor.
I feel like I’m standing outside of myself right now observing the whole scene. As I wind up and pitch, I’m in super slow-mo, like I’m suspended in a vat of molasses or something. My senses are on point, hyper-exaggerated. I can hear the pipe going whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh as it cuts through the air for an endless stretch of time until it finally lands with a juicy splash about three hours later.
Coffee.
I need coffee. I’ve gotta get it together. I slap myself in the face a couple of times and then I’m mad at myself for hurting me.
Definitely coffee.
New plan. I’ll climb this hill and then I’m going to hit the coffee cart for a quad espresso. Then I’m going to drink it real fast, find Simone, and close this deal. Ink that contract, baby.
I start up the embankment but I keep sliding down. When did my feet become skis? This is so trippy. I try again, but this time I bend over and clutch the grass as I make my way up. Grip. Grip the grass. Griiiip. Grrrrriiiipppp. Grip sounds like a made-up word. Grrrriiiiippp the grrraaaaasss. Look. I’m doing it. I’m doing it! I release the grass to give myself a round of applause and when I do, I slide back down.
No applause, O-town. Just grip. Grrrriiippppp.
You know what’s hilarious?
Gggggrrrriiiiiip.
I’m halfway up the embankment when I see another dude I know. Wait, he was at camp with us! He wasn’t in our same school then, but he is now.
“Greetings, fellow stargazer!” I say, with a lift of my chin. “Can’t wave, need to grip.”
He doesn’t respond.
That’s weird. Why didn’t he say hey? I’m a friendly guy. He’s a friendly guy. Two of us, two friendly guys. Why aren’t we being two friendly guys together?
Wait, wasn’t he all about the astronomy puns back then? Yeah, he was. I remember he almost wet his pants when I told him my fish in orbit/trouter space joke. He loved puns, fucking loved them.
I go, “Hey, how’s Uranus?”
I crack myself up, but my words don’t even register with him. What’s up with that? Wait, maybe I’m talking in a whisper and I only sound like I’m yelling in my head? I’ll try again.
“What’s up, bro?”
Was that shout-y? Felt shout-y. But he says nada. Is he mad at me? Is everyone mad at me? Why would he be mad at me? I didn’t do anything... Did I? We don’t have a beef. We never had beef. But what if we do? What if I wronged him somehow and now he hates me? I feel awful. Am I out there spreading terrible karma, unbeknownst to me?
When did I start using the word unbeknownst?
The ground begins to tremble under my grip as I scramble upward. Oh, no wonder he can’t hear me. Train’s a-comin’. I say, “You can’t hear me because of the train!”
I feel better knowing that my old pal is not my enemy. Least that’s something, right?
Something.
Something feels off here. What’s wrong with this picture? There’s something off kilter and I’m not seeing it. Like in the Highlights magazines I’d look at as a kid at the dentist office, when one cartoon bear would have an emblem on his fez and the other wouldn’t. Like that. Like something isn’t right. Like something is off.
I peer up at him. Nah, he looks normal. His usual, maybe a little more tired. Mostly same as always. But something is pulling on the sleeve of my consciousness, though. Something saying no. No. NO. What is it?
Can’t think, train’s too loud.
Train’s too loud.
Too loud.
Train.
Oh. Train.
Train.
“Dude,” I shout. “Get off the tracks. TRAIN.”
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MalloryGood11m.
where is everyone? ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT
View all 5 comments.
AveryDayAllDay jesus, mal, what NOW? saw u 2 seconds ago.
SupaFlySpencer im all good.
MidfieldNoell noe here, chillin like a villain.
EliseALot heard it 2 am sick already.
NShoreKnightTheo out of shower after practice—what up?
15
MALLORY
No.
The second I hear the desperate pull of the train’s whistle, I know.
I know.
I know with every fiber of my being.
How? How is this happening again?
The campus is motionless, no one’s moving. We’re like the world’s largest mannequin challenge. No one’s talking, not a single word. We’re just...frozen.
Bracing ourselves.
The only person who appears normal right now, who doesn’t look like she’s been punched directly in the gut, who doesn’t seem like the whole goddamned world is crashing down around her, is Simone. She’s standing there with her two lame friends, smiley and effervescent. Her whole demeanor says, Now then, what’s all this?
I’m so jealous of her obliviousness, of not knowing what comes next.
I want to be her right now.
I want to be the girl who hasn’t yet learned North Shore’s dirty little secret. Her ignorance is bliss. Maybe that’s because there’s a fact that I omitted when conducting her campus tour, an oversight that is in no way, shape, or form small.
North Shore has one of the highest teen suicide rates in the country.
Because sometimes being the best comes at a price.