In Deep (rewriting?? )

45

Being on a motorcycle was nothing like I had ever imagined. The feeling of wind rushing against my neck, my loose hair whipping around the helmet firmly on my head. It was awakening a feeling deep inside me, I could feel my blood tingling with excitement. I could tell James wanted to go faster; although every time his speed picked up I tightened my hold on him. 

 Although there was an undoubtable hum in my blood from the thrill, the fact remained that I was terrified. I assume the pressure of my fingertips digging into his abdomen was enough as a message to ease off the throttle, never going too fast.

Soon the suburban dense landscape shifted to more rural areas as we drove deeper into farming country. Making a turn onto a dirt road, I could start to see the grass field filled with cars. The morning breeze pulled at my skin as I got off the back of the motorcycle. James gently pulling the helmet off my head.

Families were all around, getting out of their cars and heading to the large area covered by booths and vendors. It was the summer, which means the farmer's markets are held every weekend. It was filled with people shopping for fresh produce, homemade crafts, and other interesting shops. I loved the uniqueness of it all.

With the press of a hand on my lower back, I am guided towards the commotion of the weekend market

"Wait, we have to start at the end, have you ever shopped at the farmers market before?" I say when I understand where he is guiding me in the veterinary stall.

"I mean I always start in the center, it is where all the good stuff is"

"Nonono, we are here so we must see it all. Therefore, we must start at one of the ends and weave our way up. "

"If you insist, oh great farmers market shopper," he mocks with a bow-like motion. Stepping through the early morning dew-covered grass, I made my way to the first stall.

"So James. Who are you?" It's a simple question I ask in the hopes of coaxing information about the mysterious boy beside me.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean who you are as a person. What do you like to do? Do you play sports? Here we are at a market together and I don't really know that much about you." I say picking up a small purple gem necklace. Examining the delicate wiring encasing the stone that was most likely handcrafted.

"I mean I don't really know you either" he stands next to me now, peering over my shoulder at the delicate piece I am holding.

Placing the necklace down  I reply, "you have seen me in a hospital bed. I had not showered for 4 days. I feel as though you cannot say you do not know me." With a brush of my shoulder against his, I move onto the next stall. A honey bee farmer selling fresh honey arranged in an assortment of sizes and colors. I could make a present for mom out of this. Pulling out my wallet, I hand the cash to the seller.

"So, I'm waiting for an answer over here," I encourage, looking at him through the side of my eye.

"I'm not all that interesting.'' Shoving his hands into his pocket he leans back onto his heels. I never realized how good he looks today. His Floppy brown hair is parted in the middle, it's long enough to rest in the middle of his ear. He's wearing a black t-shirt and black cargo pants, contrasted with bright white Nike sneakers.

"I think you're plenty interesting," I continued walking. I brush my hand across some fabrics displayed on the newest table. I wasn't very focused on them but the fabrics felt nice on my fingertips. I was more focused on getting an answer out of James.

"Please enlighten me, oh wise one. How am I interesting." he scoffs.

"Well for starters, you drive a motorcycle. Everyone who drives a motorcycle has to be some kind of an interesting person. They either fear death enough to find a thrill in the adventure and adrenaline of it all or do not fear death and find comfort in its close proximity. Both very interesting perspectives. You are quite a mystery to me in the schooling and hobbies department. Although I can tell you now, an interesting person would not call an ambulance for someone, proceed to visit them, and further their friendship even after said person is all healed. So tell me James; who are you?"

"Well, I'm James. My hobbies include hanging out with my boys at the wares, skateboarding, riding my bike, and I don't know." He pauses, "well I don't think there's much else"

"What's the wears?" I ask, putting on a crazy pair of sunglasses I found on a rack in the newest stall.

Laughing he walks over to me, plucks the obtuse glasses from my head, and puts them in himself while saying, "the wears is an abandoned warehouse of sorts my friends and I just chill and skate in. We put some couches and shit in there. Some of the guys sleep there sometimes but it's mostly just a hangout. It's more home to me than my own home."

"See that is so interesting." I cry, shoving his shoulder. "I wish I had a cool hang-out spot. The best I've got is Jessica's Jeep or one of our houses. Though I guess between the three of us we have a chill parent, a strict parent, and a parent that's never home ."

"So you guys make up the whole package"

"You got that right"

"What about school?" I try to push the conversation forward.

Running his finger through his hair he takes a large breath. He's nervous, but why? He's thinking so hard I can almost see through thoughts running around in his head.

"I go to Phillips," he says softly, as if ashamed of the response.

"Oh' the breath word escapes my lips before I can even think of something to say.

"I, well I"

"It's fine." I smile at him, trying to break up the tension. He is obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. Probably because of the bad reputation all Phillips Academy boys are grouped into. The richest of the riches, the snobbiest of the snobs. You only go to Phillips Acadamy for boys if your daddy is uber-rich or you know some uber-rich people. Phillips didn't get a bad reputation out of thin air, after countless rich boys crashing shiny new BMWs like they were nothing, trashing our public school with graffiti, and relentless poor shaming, they all acquire the label of awful boys to stay away from.  I want to believe James is different, I do believe he is. Pushing past the initial shock of the statement I laugh,  "why are you so nervous? It's like you had to tell me you go to school in the local juvie. Which by the way wouldn't be a problem." I laugh. He just stares at me."Come on Jason, did you expect me to leave or something when you told me? Why are you staring at me like that."

"Because your reaction isn't normal" he continues to stare

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you going to ask what my parents do? Where do I live?"

"No. It's not my business. You are obviously uncomfortable with this conversation. Plus, we are friends now, that's not going to change depending on the school you go to or the amount of money you have. Even if you are stinking rich." He just smirks at me, a different smirk than his usual careless smirk. This was a grin. "How about some ice cream? The last one in line has to pay!" I scream already multiple paces ahead of him. 

Happy Friday. I decided that this week I will post two updates :) yay :) I will be going down to 1 a week tho starting next week. I am trying to keep them long for you guys tho (no less than two pages an update) Hope you enjoyed.