The Summer They Really Lived

Trees and a River

Delilah

Martha is alive. I don't care what anyone else tries to say. They all think she's dead, even her parents. All I hear from people at school is "That evil bitch deserved it" and "It's her own fault for being so... her." I love her with all my heart but clearly that isn't the case for most. Whatever, they don't know her like Charlie and I do. Even though it was obvious she wanted, maybe wants, to die, I know she wouldn't give the reputation she's left behind a second glance. She isn't like that.

Charlie's always spouting shit about how he's glad that Martha's watching us now, glad we're doing everything we can to preserve her memory, glad she's in heaven. I don't know how he even deals with religion. It's all bullshit. Not like I would ever say that to him. It makes him happy so I won't take that away. Little does now. Either way, he won't even listen to why I know Martha is still out there.

Even though I love Charlie and Martha, why did he get her last words? I deserve that just as much as he did and she didn't give me so much as a parting word. It makes me angry but I can't be, not over my friend, not over what she did and didn't say, and especially not because I expect her to be nice to me after our fight. It's my fault all of it happened anyways so I guess I shouldn't be so caught up on who saw her before she left.

Charlie and I are both panting hard by the time we reach the railroad sign and I lightly knock into him. "Beat you," I huff.

"No way, I got here way before you," he counters weakly.

"Whatever, you're still paying for the bill. Only because I know you will, even if you did win. Which you didn't." I smirk and pat him on the shoulder. I jog up to the path that swerves through the dense forest and out into town again. He follows me, muttering, "Fine but you're gonna next time."

"Hey, you know you don't have to go to the party if you don't want to right?" I look up at Charlie and give him a nervous smile. He has a habit of not being able to deny me anything when it really comes down to it.

"Yeah, I know," he sighs, smiling back. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. My folks are visiting from New York and I barely get to see them."

"Ah, the hoity-toity side." I remember meeting them when I was really young and Lana, my "mother", wasn't able to watch me and she just dropped me off at Charlie's. He was very nervous around them and I could see why. All of them we're very intimidating, all judgmental eyes and confident postures. His mom's side of the family, I think.

"Shut up," he jokes. "I know they can be a little critical of others but they're really not that bad when you get to know them."

I hum in mock agreement. "I'm sure." We continue down the path in silence. I look back at Charlie, only to find him observing the forest around him with wide eyes, oblivious to my watching. He's always been amazed with nature. "What're you looking at, Chuck?"

He shushes me and stops, turning towards me. "Listen." So I do. The sounds of twigs and leaves under our foot is now diminished to a soft crunch when we shift and I can hear it. The short caw of birds, leaves rustling in the light breeze, cicadas calling to each other, animal feet skittering across the ground, fluttering of bird and insect wings alike, the quiet babbling of the river that runs through the entire forest. He looks up to the sky with wonder in his eyes. Typical Charlie, fascinated by the little things. He smiles wide at me and we continue to walk on. The sunlight filters through the tree leaves, leaving the ground dappled with bright light and soft shadows. It's beautiful but not nearly enough.

"Tell me, why do you like it here so much?"

"I don't know," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's an escape I guess. You would understand that right?"