All Things Considered [🗸]

2. trouble in paradise

"ARE Y'ALL READY to go in there?"

No. 

Not at all.

Maybe.

There's a chance.

A sure escapes my lips and I lean back in my seat, legs resting on the expanse of the backseat as the car pulls into the parking lot.

Adair Cohen's blasting Linkin Park from their speakers (as they motherfucking should) and I lean forward, head in between the two front seats as Kieran Ahmadi glances over at me with a smirk from the passengers seat.

I flip him off. I do this primarily because he absolutely hijacked the passenger's seat from me. I was right at the door of the passenger's seat of Adair's car, and this 5'11'' man comes hurtling past me before I can even slip into the seat and throws himself inside.

He colonized the seat in a span of 0.8 seconds. A record.

So, I was demoted to the backseat like a goddamn serf.

But I'm not bitter.

It's an entire tradition. Whenever we make our way over to Adair's car, the battle for the passenger's seat becomes war. It's essentially the Hunger Games with an increased level of violence.

Adair exhales a laugh as they bring their Honda Civic to a halt, the wide expanse of beach staring back at us. 

It's the first bonfire of the year. Nearly all seniors will be strewn across the beach. It'll be absolute chaos. 

Naturally, we'll be there.

Adair reaches out to the backseat and grabs onto my hand, their rings glinting beneath the faint sunlight. With their other hand, they interlock their fingers with Kieran's. "Let's go in, folks."

With that, we slip out of the car and I outstretch my arms, eyes taking in the space as I trail after Adair and Kieran, mentally absorbing the scene in front of me as we make our way out onto the beach.

Feet sink into sand, people's laughs rise to the atmosphere in a cacophony of sound. Seniors are everywhere; pressed against each other, grinning, taking sips out of red cups or re-used bottles. Music permeates the air.

There are drinks near a bar-like set-up toward the center of the beach and people loiter around, sitting on stools, adding ice to their drinks, speaking softly or loudly to the person next to them. It's a Douglass High tradition to take over the beach for the beginning-of-year bonfire. 

All the get-togethers that are worth writing down take place here.

When we find a space towards the edge of the beach, away from the burning bonfire that illuminates the center of the space, I settle down onto the sand, legs outstretched as Adair and Kieran settle down in front of me, talking about everything and nothing.