The Sky is Falling

Chapter Two - Zach Baker

"Still, I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday"

Thursday, May 21st

4:45 P.M.

I really was sorry. I didn't mean to get caught reading the note that Elliott passed to me. In my defense, I don't even know why he wanted me to know that Reagan Sanchez smelled like grapes.

First of all, everyone knows that. Reagan has smelled like grapes since she transferred here in sixth grade. Second, it doesn't take an Einstein to figure out Elliott has a big crush on her. Even a mention of her name has him blushing and stumbling over his words.

Once, during lunch in seventh grade, Elliott confessed his love for her to me, all while she was standing right behind him. Kids at school still bring it up to this day. I know he's my best friend and all, but honestly, it was pretty funny to see the look on his face when he realized.

Anyway, I just figure I'll ask for forgiveness at his birthday party tonight. I keep texting him, but he must still be in detention. I walk down the street, reminiscing all of our funny memories, when a piece of paper flies into my face. I peel it off.

"Krellmer's Air presents: Hot Air Balloon Festival

Today at 5:00 P.M."

That's it! That's how I'll make it up to Elliott! I'll take him on a hot air balloon ride as a birthday present. I pull my phone out of my pocket to tell him. A few minutes pass, and it's still on delivered. Dang, Mrs. Harrison must really be cracking down nowadays. I always used to get into detention for such petty things. (Is it really that big of a deal if I accidentally dropped a piano down two flights of stairs in seventh grade?) Even then, it would only be an hour; max. I decided to give him a minute just in case he's on his way. Nothing. Alright, Elliott. Be that way.

I step off the sidewalk and onto the gravel path, craning my neck to see the field, and sure enough, they're blowing up hot air balloons as we speak. I wander across the faded teal footbridge that spans the river, the wood creaking underneath my feet with each step. I feel kind of guilty, but then again, it's not my fault if Elliott would rather pass notes than go on a once-in-a-lifetime birthday trip on a hot air balloon. I decide not to let it get to me too much. I smell the propane from the balloons and sunscreen wafting through the air, feeling nostalgia wash over me as I think about all the summers I used to spend at this park.

I walk to the center of the field, and the only person in sight is an elderly man. "Hello, sir, are the hot air balloons ready for takeoff yet?" Startled, he turns around. His face went from looking sort of anxious to happy. He's got grey stubble and deep bags under his eyes, and his unkempt grey hair is sticking out in every direction.

"Well, son, you're a bit early, but that's okay! You'll get to do the test run!" He says and turns back around to mess with one of the hot air balloons.

"So, no one else is here yet?" I ask.

"Nope, just you and me!" he replies. His back is facing me, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "This balloon's my favorite. Nice and loud."

"Cool," I say partially confused. Not really sure why a positive quality in a balloon is being loud.

"Alright, let's hop on in," he says, and motions toward the basket. I notice he has one hand in his pocket, but I'm sure it's nothing. He's sort of freaking me out, but I'm probably just being paranoid.

I hesitate for a moment, but step in. He steps in after me and lights the burner. The flame shoots upwards, and I can feel the heat emanating from it, making me wish I would've put a little more deodorant on today. As we wait for the balloon to take off, I gaze over at the playground. It's usually bustling with kids playing and laughing, but it's completely deserted. I listen as the swings creak gently in the breeze.