Y O U T H (scomiche)

chicago

"Okay, Mitch, you have your suitcase?"

"Yes, mom."

"And your passport?"

"I won't need it, but yes. I do."

"And that mini first aid kit?"

"Yep."

"Meds?"

"Yes."

"Toothbrush?"

"Mom." I wrapped her in a hug.

"I triple checked everything just for you. I promise, I am thoroughly packed for the week."

"Two weeks!"

"How could I forget." I laughed.

"Okay. I just worry!"

"Well, you know I'm not gonna smoke."

"Don't get anybody pregnant!" She said with a finger at my nose.

"No worries there."

"Okay. When is Scott picking you up?"

"He just left his house."

"Great."

Every summer, all of the fresh graduates go on a big trip to some big city. A hookup fest, if you will. It's usually put together under-the-radar by the student counsel, fundraised by broke kids dumping quarters and dollars into a jar, bake sales, and a car wash's throughout the year. They always manage to raise enough money, and this year my class raised enough to go to Chicago.

The only worrisome thing about it, for me, was that I turn eighteen in mid-July, and you have to be eighteen to go. Last summer, the graduates left the day before my birthday, the year before they left a week after, so I really had no estimate of whether or not I could go. But, I talked to the class president, and he pushed the trip back by three days so I could tag along. God bless.

Scott knocked on the door and my dad invited him inside. I grabbed my suitcase and backpack, and he grabbed the suitcase from me and carried it to his car. I gave my dad a hug, said my last goodbye's, promised (multiple times) to text once we were halfway, and somehow made it into Scott's car within five minutes. The sun was just freshly rising, and my eyes were still adjusting to being awake at four thirty in the morning.

"Can you believe that just this time last year, I was in gay camp?" I said as he started the car.

"Damn, that seems like it was, like, three years ago."

"I know. I think that all that's changed is my discovery of spot correctors and your height."

"And the fact that we've read The Poisonwood Bible."

"Well, you did."

"You didn't read it?"

"Nope. I took one look at it and bought the spark-notes." Scott rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's been a year, you still gay?" Scott said.

"As ever. You?"

"Very, very gay."

"Very, very nice."

He pulled into the high school's parking lot for, what was probably, that last time. After parking the car, we put our suitcases in the luggage part of the bus, and walked on. Our class president, the leader of the trip, was sitting in the very first seat with a clipboard of names and other forms. We were taking a couple yellow buses to the airport to keep easier track of all the kids.

"Scott! Mitch! Checking you off the list now. Sit wherever." He waved to the seats, half-full of other students I'd known since kindergarten. We sat next to each other, towards the middle of the bus. 

The plane ride was at least fourteen hours, and everyone was prepared. Our whole class practically invaded the coach section. Scott sat by the window, and I was right next to him at the aisle. The plane's cool air was nice for about ten minutes after stepping out of the texan summer, but after only half an hour, it was too cold. 

I got the provided blanket, that I threw on the ground, out of it's plastic packaging and draped it across Scott and I. I crossed my legs and set my book on top of my knee, mostly so nobody would see me slide my hand under the blanket and intertwine my fingers with Scotts. I looked towards him in my peripheral to see him smiling from ear to ear. I leaned up towards his ear to whisper something to him.

"You're a doofus." I said. He leaned down to me to say something.

"I love you too." Now I was smiling from ear to ear.

We arrived at the airport at six pm. The sun was supposed to be up for another three hours, and we bussed over to our hotel. It was a Holiday Inn right in the middle of the city. Our class president, his name is Arthur, explained that everyone was given $200 for transportation for the next two weeks of our trip. He proceeded to hand everybody envelopes with their names on it, and everyone piled out of the bus with their luggage in hand.

After waiting nearly thirty minutes to check in and find our room, it was already eight o'clock. We put our suitcases on opposite sides of the bed and laid on it, exhausted from the day.

"Are you hungry?" I said.

"A little."

"We could order room service."

"Or we could go somewhere."

"Like where?"

"No idea."

"Hmm." We both looked through Yelp for about fifteen minutes to no avail, until I nearly screamed out of excitement.

"SCOTT RICHARD HOYING. YOU AND I ARE GOING TO THE SALT AND PEPPER DINER!"

"Uhmm?"

"The Salt and Pepper Diner!"

"I've never heard of it."

"Like, from the John Mulaney joke?"

"Who?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO JOHN MULANEY IS?"

"Not ringing any bells."

"Like, the whole bit, it's like the, WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fine! We're going to walk to the Salt and Pepper Diner, and we're going to listen to John Mulaney while we wait for our food."

"Um, okay. Is it, like, breakfast food?"

"I don't know, I've never been there." He laughed at me. I jumped out of bed and put my shoes back on.

For the first time in, well, ever, we walked down the street holding hands. It felt so, so good. Occasionally, while waiting at a crosswalk, we would look at each other with all of the love and happiness we had.

"Hey, Mitch, can I tell you something?"

"Always." I swung our hands back and forth, playfully.

"Right now, I love you just a little bit more than I did yesterday, and a little less than I will tomorrow." I reached and kissed him on the cheek. A little girl standing behind us, who was about four years old, yelled out:

"AAWWH."

We both looked back at her and laughed, happy. She blushed. I reached my other hand in between Scott and I and waved at her, making her blush a little more. Scott and I crossed the street, unable to wipe the smiles off of our faces.