The Dried Dandelion

Chapter Five: Grade School

Time has passed since that day on the hill. And, with the passing of time comes change. Jeremiah has made several male-only friends since that day and Lincoln ditched fairytales and flowers for gorgeous boys she saw in magazines.

They managed to stay friends for a long time, that is, until the fifth grade. That too was a time of great change. Lincoln got new friends, but they were only girls and a first bra too. Jeremiah started to practice running, yet it was no longer for fun, new friends came with his new hobby. The two friends soon realized they could no longer remain the simple friends they wanted to be. Change was coming too rapidly for either friend to react in time.

The year is 2000 and the famous fifth-grade dance is soon approaching. Every year, the gym is covered in multicolored streamers as some DJ with lemon-colored spiky hair plays music on the scratchy sound system. While the kids drink watered-down punch that's the color of a ripe tomato.

"Hey, Jeremiah, you asking anyone to the dance?" Phillip asks as they loop around the curve of the track. Phillip is short when compared to Jeremiah, but he has more experience on the track then Jeremiah does. Currently, they're about the same in skill, but time could easily change things.

Jeremiah ignores his question and focuses on his own breathing. "I'm serious, man. I don't want to steal your girl." Jeremiah slows down a bit, his best friend's words churning in his head.

"I don't have anyone." He finally answers, his voice is cold and passive. He, then, quickens his pace and leaves his friend behind.

Breathe in. Breathe out. The sun blares down on him, setting his body a fire and causing sweat to drip down his back. Meanwhile, his grey t-shirt is soaked.

Phillip stares at his friend's form, running in the distance. "You're only fooling yourself." He yells out as if Jeremiah could magically hear him. Phillip shakes his head a couple of times to clear his thoughts and then, sprints to catch up with Jeremiah.

XXX

Phillip and his buddies, Troy, Gavin, Mark, and Ricky are walking down the main hallway, taking the longest route possible to avoid going to their next class. As per daily ritual, they hang outside Mr. Simmons' math class, waiting for Jeremiah to be released from the teacher's evil grasp.

Gavin and Ricky are already harassing each other with Troy attempting to calm his friends. Mark eggs them on, wishing for something exciting to make his day worthwhile. Phillip leans on the wall, chewing on the fingernail of his thumb. The odd group of friends is much like the t-birds in the movie Grease, they mess around with each other but deep down they realize they're like a little family.

"Say it one more time," Ricky says. "I dare you."

"Fine. Your hair is ugly. And, what's with this giant poof in the front? You look like some mutant Ken doll." Gavin taunts, hitting Ricky's biggest weakness: his looks.

"At least I care about my appearance," Ricky says, subconsciously running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

"You saying there's something wrong with mine?" Gavin asks, already getting defensive.

"You can't even manage to match your shirt to your pants and you rarely even wear proper pants. All you wear are those pathetic basketball shorts." Ricky says with a look of disgust. "Elastic and fabric don't count as real pants."

"At least I can play basketball. You'd probably break a nail during warm-up." Gavin says trying to defend himself, yet being careful with his wording. He's always guessed at Ricky's difference in sexual orientation, but he's never pointed it out--in exact words. It's not fair to ever use that against him, no matter what he says about me.

"The amount of pure testosterone in your body has clearly clouded your judgement."

"If you two lovebirds don't knock it off I'm going to give you both wedgies. And, I'll make sure they're so painful your ass will still hurt by next week." Troy says in a monotone voice, filled with I-can't-deal-with-these-immature-freaks in his tone. "Do I make myself clear?"

Ricky and Gavin turn away from each other with each giving a hmph noise. Phillip smiles at the interaction, yet it's not enough to put him at ease. Nothing at this point could calm his racing heart. Jeremiah would be out any minute and Phillip doesn't know how to face him.

When Jeremiah exits his exhausting math class, he takes notice of Troy who is busy disciplining Mark and then there is Phillip who won't meet his gaze. Jeremiah grabs ahold of Phillip's shoulder to which he nods in response. This is happening more sooner than later, I guess.

Ricky and Gavin lead the pack, loudly arguing about yet another thing, but Jeremiah doesn't listen to their insults. Troy and Mark walk behind the bickering duo, leaving the two best friends to trail at the back of the group.

"I hear you're going with Lin," Jeremiah says, trying to act nonchalant. The two boys refuse to look at one another.

"I asked you first." Jeremiah stops walking for a split second, looks at Phillip who is finally casting him a glance. He resumes walking again, pretending he never stopped in the first place.

"Yeah, I know." Jeremiah looks down at his feet for a few seconds. Then, he returns his gaze to his best friend. "Just don't be a douche to her, okay? You can't treat her like the other girls."

"You know I treat women well, very well indeed," Phillip says trying to act like a stud. Well, as much of a stud he could be at eleven years old. Jeremiah gives him a disapproving look, causing Phillip to put his hands up in the air in a don't shoot position. "Relax, man."

Jeremiah is tempted to smack that confident smile off his face even if it is his best friend. But, he holds back, just barely. 

XXX

That night at the dance, Jeremiah did the unthinkable. Lincoln, along with all the courage she could muster, approached him asking to dance. It wasn't the fact that he turned her down, rather the fact that he laughed at her in front of all his friends. Their friendship went from solid rock to a thin string and now they were two broken halves of the string, both without a piece of cut-tape to put them back together again.