Silas and Charlie

d a y - f o u r

THE :

END OF

PLANNING

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"There are no mistakes in art, because art's what's inside of you - and you are not a mistake." - Silas Blue

"Remind me Theo, why are we here?" Charlie hisses, batting away the cattails with one hand while squinting into the distance, his arms growing more tan by the minute in the North Carolina sun.

"I think it's because you offered to help me catch the fiend that's been poaching the Heron eggs!" Theo growls in concentration, determined that they were going to in some ways, poach the poacher.

"I think we're being too conspicuous - how's he going to get these eggs at the beach, in the middle of the day?" Charlie asks, wishing he'd changed out of his baseball cleats and uniform before Theo had a chance to drag him away from the pitcher's mound.

"Don't be silly, school's out isn't it? That's late enough for a poacher . . . I think." He mumbles, eyes trained on the unmoving nest, sitting atop a pile of golden sand.

Charlie grumbles, and he shifts his weight, trying his very best to sit still. He remembers the events of the school day, his first 'clean up' experience with Silas, which involved an argument, and several sponges being thrown at each other - he was surprised at what a good arm she had. After a few minutes all he can hear is Theo's breathing, and he forces his mind to pay attention, and not drift into some daydream or memory, he needs to talk about something, anything.

"Cassie was staring at you during gym today," he blurts out, wondering how he even recalled such a trivial detail, a mundane thing that somehow stuck in his brain. Theo looks at Charlie, with horror written all over him, mouth dropped open in a mixed expression of horror and disgust.

"Cassie Williams? The cheerleader Cassie Williams?" Charlie nods slowly, trying to gauge Theo's reaction. Theo stretches his arms in the cover of the bushes, and gives a shudder, even though it's easily 90 degrees out.

"She's scary." Charlie gives a laugh of surprise, thinking that they must not be talking about the same person. Cassie was pretty, blonde and nice - if not perfectly composed and calm.

"Cassie's like, really, really intense - she totally punched me once." A pause ensues, and Charlie waits for Theo to continue the story, finding himself oddly wanting to hear more, he didn't really know her, but he had a feeling he was going to be diving a little deeper into what she was really like.

"No joke, in seventh grade we were in science doing our microscope unit and it was my turn to observe the mitochondria. So as I was adjusting the focus on the stupid thing trying to adjust the little knobs, all of the sudden she says, 'Theo, I think something's wrong,' of course I looked up to see what it was and just like that she leans forward and freaking kisses me! I was thirteen, no duh I pushed her away - but she doesn't get the hint and leers in again and asks me if I want to 'go out with her' I said no, and then she punched me. Hard too, I fell backwards and knocked all of the equipment over and ended up breaking the microscope."

A smile breaks across Charlie's face, because he can picture the scene perfectly, refusing a kiss was such a Theo thing to do. "Well, she still likes you."

He huffs, brushing leaves off of his shoes - itching to change the subject, "what about you? Like anyone this year?"

A red flush comes to his cheeks, and Theo takes notice, raising both golden eyebrows teasingly. "Well, there is this one girl in my American Literature class . . ."