Summer was here, and the air sounded like freedom as we made the long walk toward Samantha’s house. Kids were pouring out of our high school’s open doors, whooping as they made good on their best-laid plans for summer fun.
Samantha tossed her raven hair, and looked at me and smiled. “I’ve always loved the last day of school.”
“It’s strange, though,” she continued.
“What’s strange?”
“That we’ll never have a day like this again.”
I turned around, taking in the view of Granite Mountain High. “I can’t believe we’re already seniors.”
“Alex!” Samantha laughed and jabbed me in the side. “We’re not even seniors anymore. We’ve graduated! We’re never coming back.”
I joined in laughing with her. “We’re already done being seniors! That’s what I meant to say.”
The torrent of kids flowing out the doors finally slowed, though plenty still frolicked around the parking lot. One out of four, roughly, would be gone for good – mostly the taller ones. Next year, the shorter ones would take their place. That was the way of things. I counted.
Kirin’s Run wasn’t a large town. It was beautiful here. Being high in the Sierras, it wasn’t really close to anything besides the mountains. I wondered how many kids would come back once they left for college, if they left for college. I could already think of a few who wouldn’t.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I said.
“We can still come back. I drive by here every day.”
“No, I mean, being on the campus,” I said. “Doing stuff, as a student. That’s what I’m going to miss.”
“What, you want to go back inside?” Samantha teased.
“Oh God, no.”
“Then come on!”
We kept walking, and made a right at the second stop sign. The shouting, muffled now by trees, became quieter and more distant. Pine needles on the sidewalk crunched underneath our feet. The forest was always trying to come into town.
“So, uh.” I started.
“Yeah?”
“Are you looking forward to being a doctor?”
“In ten years, maybe,” she smiled.
“I mean pre-med. College. You’re looking forward to that?” I corrected myself.
“Yeah! I’m looking forward to it.”
“Cool.” I felt silly for even asking. What else would she possibly have said? “It’s cool we’ve been able to hang out so much this year.”
“I’ve been enjoying it.”
Her fingers brushed against mine, and the sidewalk suddenly felt smaller. I wondered if anyone was watching. I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the feeling of our fingers bumping into each other as we swung our hands and walked. I wanted to hold Samantha’s hand.
Then she closed her fingers around my palm, and I felt a new flush of warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.
---
Samantha’s house was a squat, one-story structure, built right up close to the edge of a steep hill. The land fell away somewhere in the middle of her backyard, and it would’ve been a wonderful view if the slope wasn’t so tangled with trees. But like the rest of her house, the nature had its own charm.
The front lawn was a mix of grass and scrub, with a cluster of ornaments near her front step. A decorative wooden sign on the wall next to her door proudly proclaimed, ‘The Harts’. In the driveway were two vehicles: a hatchback, and a pickup with a weatherproof shell covering its bed. The truck’s tailgate and the garage were both open, and Samantha’s dad was actively stuffing things in, forcibly making room alongside the other gear that was already in his truck’s bed. Samantha sucked in her breath. I guess she hadn't expected her dad to be home this early.
Samantha’s dad gave one final shove, then straightened up and turned around. He shielded his eyes from the sun as we approached. “Hey, Sam! Welcome home. Is that your friend Alex with you?”
I wasn’t sure if Samantha had asked her parents’ permission to have me over. In fact, I kind of assumed she hadn’t. But there was no point trying to be sneaky.
“Hey, Mr. Hart.” My feet crunched on the gravel as we started up the driveway, and I wondered if he’d seen us holding hands.
Mr. Hart extended his arm for a firm, callused shake. “Rob. But you already know that. Pleasure to see you again, Alex”.
I couldn’t help but look into the back of his truck. “That’s pretty full”, I observed.
“We’re camping at the reservoir this weekend, to celebrate Sam’s graduation. I took the day off to get an early start packing. Didn't she tell you that?”
“She mentioned camping earlier today,” I said. “Can I help?” I wasn’t sure how Rob wanted to organize his truck, but I felt awkward having interrupted his work.
“If you want, sure. Hey, Sam!” Rob called. Samantha was hanging back near the foot of the driveway, hands stuffed in her back pockets. “Why don’t you come on up here and tell me how your day went?”
Rob turned back to me as Samantha approached. “We’ll be fishing tomorrow, so if you could, grab my tackle box. I’ll find a spot for it in the back.”
I stepped into the shaded garage as Rob and Samantha got into conversation. It was still sweltering hot, but at least it wasn't the heavy sunlight cooking me anymore.
Both sides of Rob’s garage were stacked to the ceiling with shelves. The floor was immaculately clean; Rob had swept all the clutter from the ground and found space for it in midair, with his small army of stackable organizers. I paced slowly, looking for one specific box amidst a sea of neatly arranged, other boxes. There was a tool kit, six plastic drawers of screws, an open cardboard container filled with rags and WD-40. Rob wanted his tackle, and I didn’t fish. This was going to be somewhat difficult.
I paced slowly forwards, until I reached a large metal table, flush against the garage’s rear wall. A green crate rested against one corner. It didn’t quite look like fishing gear, but it was the closest I’d seen so far, and seemed outdoorsy enough. I risked a peek inside. There sat dozens of rows of small, cardboard pallets, neat as everything else. Each was stamped with a fearsome eagle, and labeled: 9mm. This wasn’t tackle. It was ammo. Frustrated, and somewhat ashamed of poking my nose into things, I closed the lid and moved on.
I finished my circuit around the far side of the garage, passing drawers and organizers but still nothing that looked like fishing equipment. Samantha and her dad were still chatting in the sun. They paused their conversation as I approached.
“Couldn’t find it”, I said sheepishly.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Rob said. “Let me show you.”
Samantha and I followed him to a tall locker, close to the garage entrance.
“It’s in here... second shelf from the bottom... far right.” Rob opened the locker and pointed, revealing a bright blue container with a white lid. “I have a certain way of organizing things. But don’t worry about that. We've never fished together before, so you wouldn’t have known what to look for.”
He pulled out the container and straightened up. “How about this. I’ll finish packing the truck. You two go inside where it’s cooler, and do whatever you were planning to do before I interrupted you. Sound good?”
I could practically feel Samantha squirm where she stood. “Sounds good”, I agreed.
“Oh, and Sam! Your mom and I are buying you dinner tonight, so be ready to go by six-thirty.”
“Right.” Samantha bit out the word like she was on trial.
The three of us squeezed our way past each other, and we made it into the house.
Samantha sighed in relief. “Finally!”
I agreed. “This air conditioning is nice”.
I followed her into the kitchen and stood at the counter, while she leaned into fridge. I had a clear view of Samantha’s wild backyard through the window to my right. In front of me, Samantha’s dark hair was falling over her shoulders, stark against her white top.
“Ginger ale?”
“Yes, please.”
She opened two bottles with a hiss and filled two glasses, with ice. “To the last day of school.”
We clinked our glasses together, and drank.
“Want to sit down?” she asked.
“Sure.” I nodded, still recovering from the heat. We walked the short distance to her living room and dropped ourselves onto the sofa. Samantha scooted closer to me, inching her way out of a pool of hot sun that flowed in through the uncovered windows, and let me slide my arm behind the small of her back.
“So, what about you?”
“Hmm?” I responded.
“Are you looking forward to your degree in aerospace engineering?” She leaned her head against my left shoulder, gazing up at me as she asked. Her eyes were hazel, with tiny stars of emerald green clustered near the center.
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”
“I’m not crushing you, am I?”
“No, you’re fine.” I tried to think about my degree, but all I could focus on was my hand, resting on Samantha’s hip. It felt so right.
“I guess...” I started, turning my head upwards to think. “There's a lot of things you can do with that degree. Exploration. Discovery. Defense. A lot of those things are appealing to me. I’ve always liked the idea of discovering new territory. And right now, all the unexplored territory is in space. So aerospace makes sense.”
“Would you go to space, if you could?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“Would you go to the moon?”
I looked at her again. Samantha was smiling, and from the glimmer in her eyes, she was about to burst into something else. A laugh? Her hip was warm underneath my palm. A wave of hair had fallen across her face. I felt the deep urge to brush it aside, but something held me back. “Of course.”
Suddenly, the door banged open. Rob was back, striding past our nest in the living room, making a beeline for the fridge. Samantha and I jerked away from each other, putting a respectable distance between our noses.
There was another hiss, and then the tinkle of metal dancing on tile. “Don’t mind me,” Mr. Hart called out. “Just grabbing a soda.”
He walked back towards the garage, but stopped short as he neared our sofa. “Your mom called. She said she’ll be home at five, so we’ll start getting ready to go around then.”
“Okay”, Samantha replied, her eyes wide and innocent, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“One more thing. I moved your things from your room to the truck, and you only packed one bag. Did you mean to do that? Last time we went camping, you packed two.”
“I packed one.”
“Right. I just wanted to make sure.”
The door clicked shut, and Samantha turned back to me with another breath of relief. “Want to head to my room now?”
“Yes, please.”
---
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