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twelve - fascinated

"slow and steady," mike whispered.

my finger brushed against the trigger anxiously as mike held onto my arms. a rifle laid in my hands, the cold metal making my skin rise. i closed one eye and stuck my tongue out before i pulled the trigger.

boom.

it hit a glass bottle, making shards explode everywhere with a high pitched crack. my eyes widened in surprise as mike grabbed my shoulders and praised me for hitting the bottle. i let out a deep breath with a wide smile on my face.

mike's grandfather was out to go speak to the butcher, so mike called me from his farm. he gave me a tour of the acreage and then took me to his favorite spot: the shooting range.

"you do this to animals?" i asked.

"no," he sighed, unloading the gun. the broom brushed the broken glass back and forth as he started to sweep, "and i really don't want to when my 'pops kicks the bucket."

i followed as mike walked over to the barn. all of the animals seemed to scream at mike excessively as he walked in. he bent down and picked up a tiny lamb. it was small, and its leg was bandaged up.

"he's a runt, and he broke his leg," mike explained, "grandpa wanted to kill it, but i couldn't let him die."

mike played with the small, green ribbon that was tied around its neck. it let out the smallest noise, and mike let out a soft chuckle in response. the lamb's head rested on mike's chest as mike held him closer. "everyone deserves a friend, no matter what."

"except henry."

"no," mike laughed, "he's batshit crazy, but so are his friends. they're happy as a group. just think of how crazy they would be if they were lonely. people need to be crazy together, or lonely together, or losers together!"

"we're losers together," i smiled, "farm boy."

he gave me a small nod as he set down the small lamb. it pranced away with a small limp to graze with the other sheep. a fond smile grew on the boy's lips as he watched the small animal. i examined mike carefully. i watched how he would brush a hand through his hair as he watched the animals make a mess. i noticed how his hands would rub against his tee shirt after every time he would move something. his eyes flickered with curiosity at the mention of one of my friends.

"do you want to see my house?" i asked sweetly, "it's nothing special, but-"

"sure!" he offered a warm smile. a toothy grin was enough for me to know that he wanted to go. if i had lived on a farm all of my life, i would've wanted to go inside a normal house, too.

so, we rode back. my mind wandered to bill's bike, silver. once, when we were younger, we had tried to stick the name 'gold' onto my bike, but it never had the same effect. i never had a catch phrase as i zoomed off on my bike, and i wouldn't care if the bike had a slight squeak when it turned. that bike was bill's pride and joy, like my radio was to me.

we rode into town, making small remarks at all of the children that came and went from our view. the grey scenery turned to yellow as the sun shone slightly through the clouds that were in the sky waiting to spill all of their water. my eyes squinted to hide away from the beating sun that was above us.

i looked over at mike as we parked the bikes in our driveway. his jaw was dropped; it wasn't hard to impress farm boy. "i like your house," he whispered, "it's simple."

—

mike and i sat in my room, reading through the books in my room tiredly.

"why is 'two lovers and a beachcomber by the real sea' bookmarked?" mike looked up at me. my mind when blank, all of the blood drained from my face rapidly.

"i- uh," i scratched the back of my neck, "i like the poem!" mike gave me a suspicious look but dropped it and started to read the poem. his eyes moved across the page quickly, mouthing the words as he went. he finally looked up at me with a puzzled expression spread across his face.

"i don't get it."

"it's young love," i explain, "not knowing where the path is leading, but they still want to go down it. it's scary, but at least they're doing it together." a smile twitched from my lips as the fond memory of that cold night filled my head. a warm feeling grew from my chest; it felt sudden, almost bursting.

"sounds to me like you want that kind of love," mike suggested, "you have it bad for anyone in particular?"

"don't be ridiculous!" i laughed shyly. i had never necessarily thought about anyone. i assumed everything would fall into place as i got older, but i'm fourteen, and i haven't met a girl that i would want to date. sure, beverly is nice and pretty, but i would never consider her. i need someone loud, but can learn to have quiet moments. i need someone who can force me to not be so uptight but can also gather their thoughts.

i need a girl richie tozier.

"i don't think i can at this point," i finished my statement. i grabbed the book that laid in front of mike and held it to my chest. the top of the book laid gently on my nose, the feeling of leather delicately touching my skin.

my eyes wandered to my dusty mirror. my eyes were heavy from the less amount of sleep i was getting. i would stay up and look outside of my window. i waited for something, anything interesting to pass. i would try to read, but my mind was always racing. i wondered if i was missing out, or if i should leave, but i never did. i just waited. i knew i was going to get sick, but it was difficult. i would finally rest at about four in the morning after my mind would finally give up.

i looked at the jacket i was wearing. it was the one that richie had given me. it was baggy, like everything else richie would wear. i didn't mind, though. it was comfortable; it was warm.

i looked at the adjective above my head through the mirror.

fascinated