Excerpts from the Life of Linden Rand

One Thing We Share

As human beings, we are, inherently, the same. There are, for certain, things that differentiate us from anyone else, and as difficult as it's becoming to believe, each and every person on the planet is unique, through the combination of physique and personality. Our minds, and in particular, the way we think an as individual, are always different to the next person in the lunch queue. There are, however, certain things that we all share. We all share the right to live, the right to speak, the right to remain silent. If there's one thing in particular, relevant to me in the Forest that day, we all share; it's that we all had a first love.

I state this with a degree of certainty because yes: Ezra was the first person I truly believe I was in love with. He was the first boy that I ever felt an attraction toward, the first boy I found myself drawn to in the way I was supposed to be drawn to girls, and that's not to say I didn't feel a pull toward girls either. There were girls at my school who I would've had trouble saying no to if they'd asked me to be their boyfriend. I could be as lustful as any other boy my age, though perhaps, I like to think, at a much lower tone. My attraction towards Ezra, however, was something far different to what the kids at my school defined as an ideal relationship. I remember the latter days of our time together, revelling in his presence and mentally flipping the bird to Hayden Storm. Let him have his dreams of orgies and motor-boating!

None of that was crossing my mind at the time, however. I was far too preoccupied with both trying to hold his eyesight and miss it at the same time, deep embarrassment at being caught singing at the top of my lungs obvious through the slight welling in my eyes. I remember the tidal wave that had suddenly slammed into my back via that little stream. Where the hell were all of these things coming from? What were they, and why had they suddenly invaded my body and rooted themselves there without warning, and why were they intensifying in their assault every damn time I cast my eyes up to look at him again? "Pull yourself together, Linden." I could practically hear Alistair's voice in my ears, laced with dissatisfaction. I was also wondering what Alistair would think if he could hear my thoughts, feel what I was suddenly feeling for this boy, what his reaction would be, but a quick jolt back to reality in the form of the boy waving his hand at me reminded me that, at the heart of it, I didn't really care what Alistair thought. Why was I there in the first place?

"It's not my favourite song on that album, but it's got such a heavy vibe to it." Perhaps he was searching for a topic to try and find some neutral ground for the two of us. I was wondering that as well: how long had he been lurking there? "What I love the most about it is how it's a song about the search for truth. You could also say it's about forgiveness, but the whole 'you're still a liar' bit cements that for me." He threw caution to the wind as he descended down the hillside; that was Ezra. He nestled in an outcropping just adjacent to the stream, where he and I were eye to eye. I still hadn't said a word to him, and after a few more seconds I closed my mouth, more than aware of his expectant expression. He wasn't deterred however, and tilted his head at me, almost like how a dog does when you talk to it. "I get it. Don't waste words, save your voice for performances and stuff. You do perform, right?" I shook my head. "Oh, you do understand me! I thought you might not be English."

I asked if he was, and oh, the expression on his face was priceless. It was as if he'd chosen wisely and found the true goblet. "Me pregunta si soy inglés. Absolutamente no tiene precio. It's Spanish, by the way, before you ask." He flashed that damned grin at me again, his teeth practically sparkling and aligned almost perfectly. He must've had braces at some point in his life; I never asked. "Answer me this, though." Another head tilt. "With a voice like that, how could you not perform? I'd line up three blocks to hear you sing." "Only three?" I shot back, and that bout of confidence amazes me to this day. It worked, though, and he laughed. There was something strange to his laugh; it was slightly obnoxious, and if it were anyone else it might've annoyed me, infuriated me even. Not Ezra. I asked him if he believed what he'd said. He smiled sweetly at me as he asked which bit I was referring to, and it flustered me enough to make me stumble over my words. How was he doing this to me? How had he thrown all my articulation out of the window through not even two minutes of being in my life? "The bit about truth." He wasn't at all surprised at my avoidance of what he'd thought, or hoped, I suppose, I'd meant, and continued smoothly. "Por supuesto hice. I never say anything I don't mean." I hummed, and it fell silent for a time. I could feel his eyes staring towards me, and whether it was apprehension or some wild form of teasing that I didn't figure, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the stream, continuing my game of throwing pebbles. Pretty soon there were two at a time whizzing down-stream, and only one originated from my hands.