Maple Park
Present
We screech to a stop in front of a vacant lot.
"Whoa! Trying to kill me, Quiet Boy?"
I almost bump into Em with the nose of my skateboard. "Sorry."
Stop thinking back, Stephen.
"You should be! I'm too young to die."
"...What happened to the house?" I ask, seeing its outline in the dirt.
"Druggies," Em says. "Torn down last year. I saw it all from upstairs. Kind of cool. But, sad. This area isn't like it used to be."
Tell me about it. That's why Kenzie and I meet each other after work to walk home together. I don't know how Kenzie's grandfather can still run his store. All that allergy medication must make him feel invincible. He's fearless and scrappy. No Criminal Minds killer can stop him.
Sounds like a movie-in-the-making.
Em walks up to the chain-link fence that separates the dirt lot from a three-story house. ...Is this our destination?
"Welcome to the clubhouse," Em says, chaining her bike to the fence. "It's not much, but...it's ours."
Shouldn't we be going around the front?
That's rich coming from you.
Like a nimble alley cat, Em hops the fence. It's second nature to her. And it answers my question. Climbing the fence is the way in.
Well, you should know how after plenty of practice in Evansville.
The backyard. It feels bigger than mine, but it doesn't look very big. The grass is patchy and thin, thawing out from the winter. By the drive, flowers aren't sure if they want to bloom or not. There's a pine tree on the other side. Tall and scraggly. Its roots push up against the fencepost in the corner, causing it to lean.
Up and over, Stephen.
My board goes first. I toss it over the fence. Em says something about purposely aiming for her. I dig one shoe into the links, but my first shot at pulling myself up to the next level is harder than it looks. I'm rusty.
Up and...and...over!
I make the stutter-step landing.
Like riding a bike.
Em's not impressed. "Wow. Look at that skill."
Shut up.
Tell her that, not me.
Em checks her phone. "Whatever. Come on, Quiet Boy..."
And...okay, I'm done. I'm not putting up with that.
Nope.
Forced to come and now stay against my will, I have to play catch-up, jogging to the back door of the house.
"Becka's?"
"...Duh? Who else?"
Does she have to be snarky about it?
"Relax," Em says. "We're not going to kill you."
Good to—
"Yet!"
...Maybe the neighborhood will be my demise after all.
Nice knowing you.
"Shut up!"
YOU ARE READING
Earhart & Noonan: An "Us Club" Novel (#1)(NaNoWriMo15)
Teen FictionFor the first twelve years of Stephen Vaughn's life, just trying to get others around him to pronounce his first name the right way ("Stee-vehn Vawn") has felt like the hardest task he's had to try and cope with. That is, until his perfect life with...
