When Love Became

when he picked me up

I was beginning to drown in a pool of my own teen angst. The root of the angst stemmed not from feeling suffocated by my parents, as most teens tend to, but feeling like my life lacked any sense of passion. That, and I had one parent, who coincidentally rarely micromanaged me. I also felt the weight of the impending doom that was to be my junior year of high school. Mixing together my lack of zeal and fear of failing the SATs, my life pretty much summed up that of any other high school student's. Although the teachers at my private school were meant to "nurture my aspirations" and "brighten my future" (Gateland Academy's words, not mine) I felt that the curriculum itself deigned to instill passion, other than for math contests or science bowls, in its students. I sat in my closet, mulling over these thoughts, when I heard a shout and a honk from outside.

"Lyss! I know you're being all philosophical in your closet, hurry up and get out here!" Sebastian screamed, honking the horn of his red Jeep. I called him Bash for short, which used to annoy him, but he eventually got used to it.

"Shut up, you big baby," I yelled as I grabbed my sneakers, running down the stairs.

"You have ONE MINUTE!"

I rolled my eyes and tied my shoelaces, knowing that Bash wouldn't just leave without me. We have been best friends since the fifth grade, when we both sat next to each other during orientation for new students in the auditorium of Gateland Elementary. I was drawn to his sweet disposition and fifth grade wit, and he was drawn to the fact that I could recite all fifty states and their capitals in song. I remembered turning to him and telling him that we were going to be best friends for life and giggled to myself as I recalled the shocked look on his face, and the blush that ran through his cheeks when I declared my intentions. As I turned to take my keys off their peg, my mother shouted at me from the kitchen.

"LYSS. MAKE SURE YOU'RE BACK BY TWELVE!" she called.

"I'm probably going to stay at Bash's," I said as I raced towards her, flashing her my most winning smile.

"That's fine, just be safe," she smiled at me, slipping me twenty dollars across the table.

"Thank you, mother, you're the best!" I gave her a quick kiss and am out the door, snatching up my backpack along the way. My mom had raised me by herself since I was two years old, after my dad had died in a car accident. She was my rock and my role model, not to mention an award-winning architect. Her high in-demand designs and numerous commendations kept us comfortable, and also paid for Gateland Academy's lavish tuition. I sometimes wondered how she had had the strength to raise a two year old and manage an architecture firm all on her own, and whether or not I would ever be able to channel her strength. After locking the front gate, I sprinted towards the cherry colored car and leapt through the open window into the passenger's seat without bothering to use the door. I'm met with a disgruntled Bash, who now has a horrified expression on his face.

"What kind of shenanigans do you call that?" he asked, shocked.

"I dunno, I feel like I need to be more spontaneous," I shrugged.

"Well, can you refrain from adding any more damage to my car? I'm not made of money, you know,"

"I break off a side view mirror one time, and I never hear the end of it," I muttered. Also, to be clear, Bash, or rather his father, was definitely made of money. Mr. Hanway was the CEO of an investment firm, and he was indeed fabulously wealthy. Besides, I hadn't broken the mirror on purpose. I had simply been attempting a roundhouse kick and happened to miscalculate my steps by a few feet. Still peeved, Bash turned on the ignition and drove down my street, quietly grumbling about the mirror. I laughed and zipped open my backpack, taking out a huge roll of canvas. To the sane person's eye, the markings and squigglies on the canvas might look like a child's ramblings, however they actually made up a map of the Nectar Woods that Bash and I had worked on as we explored, every summer since we first met. Nectar Woods used to house thousands of beehives that produced gallons of honey a year, and attracted bears, but now they were mostly barren. The woods were about two miles out from my house, and at first it was easy to walk about them without fear of being attacked by wild animals, but we were now about seventy-five percent of the way through, and the woods had grown thicker, so driving in Bash's car was safer. The Jeep had become a sort of a second home for us, housing blankets, water, snacks, flashlights, and about three hundred dollars in emergency cash. We had both decided when he had gotten the car that we would use it as a safe haven for us if we ever needed to escape our mundane lives. The creation of the map had been, of course, my brilliant idea. I had first thought of making one when we started out as eleven year olds at the edge of the forest. I had been too scared to go in, and Bash had tugged on my hand and begged to go explore it, but I refused and insisted that we needed at least a flashlight and some way to trace a path back. Being the wonderfully thoughtful fifth grader that I was, I told him that we would return the next day with the supplies. I met him at the entrance of the woods with a backpack full of markers, a large piece of canvas, and a small flashlight, courtesy of a trip to the craft store with my mom. My dear mother had learned not to ask questions when it came to my adventurous spirit and usually went along with my plans, so long as they didn't put anyone in danger. Holdings hands, we had bravely ventured into the woods, and we drew distinct markings on the canvas to make sure we could find our way back. After our first excursion, we both decided that with little else to do during the summer, we could complete a whole map of the woods. We had originally speculated that it would take one summer to finish it, but the time spent on the thing now tallied up to six years.