Maybe It's Magic

Chapter 1

Jake hefted a large box, his arms and legs protesting with every step forward. He'd always thought of himself as strong... until he picked up this box. He couldn't decide if it was filled with books, rocks, or if it had some kind of gravitational pull that attracted it to the floor. Whatever it had, it was fighting him. And it was winning. 

"I will defeat this," he gasped with what breath he had left. "I will escape this place."

"A little dramatic, but I like the enthusiasm," he heard Molly say behind him. 

"Not enthusiasm," he grunted. "Despair. I'm going to die here. And then you'll be sorry." Jake glanced enviously at Molly, serenely sailing past him with an over-sized sock monkey.

She walked backward as he trudged forward. "I will be. I promise to honor your legacy. You died in a state of grace. I'll commission a statue -- Saint Jake, patron of lost souls and heavy lifters."

"Laugh all you want, but I deserve it for this box alone." Jake was sure his canonization would be announced any minute now. 

He'd been home from college for summer break for a measly three days and Molly was putting him to work for the Summer Bazaar. It was really just a fancy word for a flea market run by church ladies. Worse yet, it was in their old high school cafeteria.

And this was their last free summer. Next summer would be that tricky time after junior year. Next summer they would be expected to get some fancy internship or other. He'd had no plans for this summer. And he was really looking forward to that! 

Then Molly, his best friend who was supposed to support him in all things, including doing nothing, had to go and guilt him into this.

"You were the one bragging about how many pounds you can lift," Molly had to go and point out.

"They were going to have me help set up jewelry," he grumbled. "That's not a manly job." 

Molly rolled her eyes. "And God forbid you do something less than manly!"

"Thanks for understanding," he grunted, placing the box on one of the folding tables none too gently. It was the fourth table he'd taken it to. There was always a new old lady to tell him it didn't go here or there. Well, it was going here, at least until he could breathe again.

He heard a clatter inside. It definitely sounded like rocks. 

Molly held her plushie tighter. "You know, I think I'm getting attached to this guy. I'm going to name him George and love him and squeeze him."

Even Molly's Abominable Snowman impersonation couldn't cool him down today. "I've got a name for this box of rocks," he whispered, leaning in, "but I can't say it with all these church ladies around."

She giggled and put her monkey down, fanning him with one of the flyers scattered on the tables. "Is this really that bad?"

"I don't know. When you came over, I thought we were going to go swimming or get water ice. I had very specific and lazy plans for this summer and this was not one of them."

"Look, it's only a couple hours. I was listening to this thing on NPR about being active in small endeavors and how..."

"How exhausting it is?" he cut in. Damn Molly and her do-gooding. She listened to way too much NPR and it gave her ideas that got in the way of the do-nothingness that should define summer. Or at least the first week of it!

"It was all about how the act of helping others, even with simple things, makes you feel more satisfied than doing those same things for yourself. That whole good deed for the day thing is as good for you as for others." She paused, sighing. "Also when I told my mom about it, she handed me this flyer and told me to put my money where my mouth is. So here we are."