The Treehouse Club {On Hold}

Chapter Fifteen // Jacob

JACOB

My walk back to the treehouse was short, but it gave me just enough time alone to think about everything that happened today. When I got up, I hadn't expected the day to be any different than usual. But if I'm really being honest, I'm kinda glad that it wasn't. It's been a long time since I've had good friends, real friends. I don't know if that's what this is- friendship- but it feels like it could be.

They already know more about me than anyone, save maybe Danny. But Danny is drifting. Floating farther and farther away. Who could blame him really, but there was a time he was the only person I could trust. It's so much harder now without him. And I'm worried about the way he's dealing. At least I'm self destructing, that can't hurt anyone but me. Danny is getting lost in bad people, bad things. I keep trying but I can't get him back.

So maybe I need these people. Maybe they can stop me from ruining myself. Hopefully I can stop myself from ruining them.

My sanctuary comes into view, camouflaged against it's wild background. No one could keep this place from ruin.

"Hey." The treehouse is vacant except for Johnny. He greets me without turning around. "So I was thinking, I've got a thing I want to avoid on Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to join me for a while and go see a movie or something. Like, ya'know, a date."

Date? "Johnny, I don't know what you're-"

He spins around quickly and effectively cuts me off. He's blushing. I didn't even know he did that.

"Sorry, dude. Thought you were Jess."

Ah. That makes much more sense. I knew something was happening there beyond the compromising position I first caught them in, despite Jess's denial. She may not like it, but they're already connected.

I remember looking in the mirror and seeing the same spark that's radiating from Johnny now. There's very few things that can dim it, and as I recall, Johnny isn't the best at extinguishing sparks.

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It's not long after that before Jess arrives. The change is incredible.

It isn't even just her apparel or the cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of her mouth as she climbs up through the doorway. Her whole persona is transformed. That timid little girl I see around school has disappeared. Smoke rises up around her in a murky halo. If this is the real Jess, I have know idea how she's hidden behind those knee socks for so long.

Johnny greets her wordlessly, stealing the cigarette from her mouth and casually placing it in his own.

"Hey!" She exclaims. "Last time I checked, that didn't belong to you."

He didn't even glance at her before responding, "Good girls don't smoke, Jessie. And any fires started in this woods are going to be my responsibility."

She scoffs at him, but though Johnny's company would often be accompanied by a cigarette from then on, I'd never see her smoke another.

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"So what are we doing here?" I ask after the formalities are exchanged, glancing at Johnny who is sitting by the window letting his smoke trail out the window. He just shrugs and gestures toward Jess.

She flops down onto the mattress, flinging her giant black bag to the side. "Do I always have to have a reason for wanting to hang out with two of my best friends?"

Johnny and I look at each other, and then at Jess.

"Are you on drugs?" I blurt out impulsively.

She lays back down on the mattress and groans.

"Look, will you stay if I told you I brought Nutella ?"

Right. Because we were definitely planning on leaving. I think she forgets sometimes that we all have the same reason for being here.

I have no idea what her Nutella bribe is, but Johnny's eyes light up like a firework when she mentions it. "Really?! You've got some? I haven't had that stuff in forever!" He says, almost tackling Jess.

I just stand there, confused. "What's Nutella?"

They both stop what they're doing, and almost immediately I'm under verbal assault.

"What?! You don't know what Nutella is?!" Johnny yells.

"Jake, you are honestly the worst stereotypical gay man ever. Pull your shit together."

That one's Jess.

She pulls a jar of what looks like a dark brown peanut butter out of her bag, along with three spoons. I'm handed one, Johnny the other, and she keeps one for herself.

The two of them begin arguing about who gets to eat some first. I don't really get what the big deal is, but they're getting pretty into it. I clear my throat to get their attention before they kill each other.

After they realize I'm still there, they both share a look and come to some silent agreement.

"Let the Nutella virgin experience his first taste of heaven." Johnny says, stealing the spread from Jess and handing it to me.

I laugh at how ridiculous they're being, but take a scoop of the cocoa nonetheless. They await me anxiously.

Oh. My. God. "This is amazing."

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We're all laying there a little while later, faces covered in missed spots of chocolate, with the tip of our heads touching in a small little circle and feet splayed out in search of space, staring at the stars through the cracks in the ceiling when Jess speaks up. "I don't want to this to go away."

Johnny and I share a look. "What?"

She sighs. There's cautious quiet for a while. Unlike most people, silence is my safety, it's my comfort. And that's how this silence feels, comforting, reserved. Like we're all searching for the first few pieces of a puzzle.

"You know, I've been in the best art classes money could by since I could pick up a crayon. When I was a kid, I used to draw pictures of everything. The cat, the sky, my bike, anything. My Mother used to think that having a little artist meant that I would take after her. She brought me to art gallery's and showed me masterpieces, told me stories about the beauty of art. The way she told it, art was in the eye of the beholder; she made it into something vain. Made me into something vain. And anytime we would drive past a tag on a bridge she'd grumble to herself about defacement, because in her eyes the building was the art. Vandalism was an act against power, against beauty, a rebellion. And so when the point in my life came that I needed a little rebellion, art was the first place I looked. I guess everyone needs a safety net, something that's always there for them, and the way I see it, art is the world's last attempt at consistency. Sanity."

At this moment, there is something about the air. You notice it. And for whatever reason, I am compelled to speak.

"'I am very tired.' She says, 'and it is so awfully difficult to feel sad and tired when all you want is to feel alive.'"

Another passive wondering follows, softly scratching at all of us. At what makes us.

Jess soothes it. "That's beautiful."

"I act. It's one of my favorite things. But I never really saw any impact in it until I started reading plays. They're better than poetry, you wouldn't believe it."

I feel someone grab my hands then, first from one side, then the other. And we lay connected, sharing in our silences, and stare at the stars.

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Very, very sorry, friends. It's been so long! But I've recently found some new inspiration to finish this book, maybe start another. Hopefully it will last and you'll be seeing me again soon. Until next time, venture on.
~A.T.A