The Distance

SEPTEMBER - COLE, 3

I tried to call Jason over the weekend, but no one picked up. I wondered if his mother had blocked my number. But he didn't stop by my house either to throw pebbles at my window like in the movies. It was like he disappeared.

On Sunday, I went to Kingsley Park for a short run. On the wooded paths, I imagined him just ahead of me, always around the bend. Mario Kart had this mode where you could compete against the ghost of a player who raced at a faster time. The ghost racer was translucent, a perfect memory of every choice they made. I began to imagine Jason as such a ghost on the trail. I watched him gain distance on the straightaways, but I could catch him on the downhill. For a moment, our bodies would overlap and we would inhabit the same space. Our lungs would breathe the same air and our hearts would pump the same blood. Then, one of us would pull ahead and the distance would return.

I decided to tell Aurora I would go to the dance with her. I called her up on Sunday afternoon after my run. I didn't want to keep her waiting any longer than I already had.

"You're sure?" she asked me.

It was a great question. I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure I wanted to go to a dance with my best friend when the potential outcome was that I would break her heart. It was just a dance for me. It wasn't a date.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said. "We'll have fun like we always do. And you put so much thought into asking me. The balloon, the covert sidewalk decoration."

She laughed.

"I'm glad you liked it. I took it very seriously. I wore all black like a ninja. I think your neighbor saw me, though."

"Mrs. Timmons, yeah. She's the textbook definition of nosy neighbor."

"Well, this is exciting," said Aurora. "This will be the first time I'll have a good time at a school dance. Should we try to match? I think I want to wear teal or purple."

"Oh, I'm happy with whatever you decide," I said.

I tried to match Aurora's enthusiasm. She didn't have to tell me she was excited, I could hear it in her voice and nervous laughter. It landed on my shoulders, the weight of her expectations. I could never measure up to the romance she desired.

By Wednesday, a few kids talked to me about the Aurora and the dance. It wasn't the most exciting gossip. Aurora and I weren't popular, but people remembered the longevity of our friendship. Aurora and I were friends before boys and girls hung out together. The idea that two people of differing genders could enjoy the other's company without dating was apparently unusual.

"I always knew you two would end up together," Mila, captain of the softball team said to me. "The way you two look at each other- it's super obvious."

Meanwhile, I didn't think much about Mila at all. She was just a girl in my school. We weren't friends.

"Good job finally locking down Aurora," a boy said to me as we walked out of History together. "She got really hot this year."

I didn't know his name and I wasn't sure how to respond. I didn't lock down Aurora. I considered his premise, that I had been biding my time, fostering a friendship with Aurora for years because she might one day become attractive enough for me to date. What was wrong with him?

"You're going with Aurora to the dance?" Jack Clayton asked me by the lockers.

"Yeah," I said. I folded my arms in defense, ready to take whatever insult Jack lobbed at me.

"That's funny."

I took the bait. I shouldn't have taken the bait.

"Why is it funny?"