Gwen: Still alive?

Devin: Surprisingly, yeah

Anthony: Suppose Beau is the smart one
He wouldn’t murder you unless he was absolutely certain he could easily get away with it.

Gwen: Have you had to hang out a lot?
Or are you avoiding each other?

Niel: I bet it’s super awkward to face him in the mornings after the hate fucks every night ;D

Devin: Niel, when I get back, I’m showing your mom your internet browsing history.

Anthony: Funniest part is, Niel is too stupid to understand how to erase it all together

Niel: Fuck you guys, just cause it’s the 21st century that don’t mean we’re all tech savy
Spare me >.<

Devin: Back to Gwen though
We’ve been hanging out actually

Gwen: Oh, so Devin is really dead and this is Beau using his phone?

Devin: No, shut up, listen, he hasn’t been a complete ass and we’ve managed to hang out. Actually, we’re going to drive around together today.
There’s supposedly a bunch of super old houses nearby that are, like, big ass mansions so we wanna see them!

Anthony: You’re willingly hanging out?
Yeah, Devin is definitely dead and this is Beau horribly trying to cover it up. I misjudged you. You’re an idiot too.

Niel: I won’t tattle if you give me that fancy camera of yours, Beau

Devin: Screw all of you guys. I’m getting off and heading out so ttyl

Gwen: Bye Beau! Hide Devin’s body well!

With an annoyed huff, my so-called friends were cut off from me for the day. I wasn’t lying when I told them that Beau and I had plans, ones that we made ourselves. Shocker!

I caught him scouring his phone last night for other places to visit. He had made no mention of heading out of town to me nor to our parents based on my not having heard of the possible lone Beau adventure. A few annoying questions and wrestling over his phone later, we “decided” to take the van together to investigate the local area. Based on his research, there were plenty of old manors nearby that had been here for ages. He wanted to see if he could get the town on camera while I just wanted to see fancy houses.

My phone was stashed away in the pockets of my basketball shorts when Beau returned to our hotel room with car keys in hand.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yep!”

Yet again, the camera bag was slung over his shoulder. I barely caught the keys tossed my way. I glowered at his smirk, knowing damn well that he intentionally aimed for my face. Probably payback for the volleyball incident because he was a petty bitch like that, but I actually caught the keys so, HA!

“The folks don’t wanna tag along?” I slipped on a pair of sneakers along with my trusty baseball cap. Beau kept the door open until I bounced my way out of the room.

“No. They want to take a trip to Portland Head Lighthouse tomorrow so they would rather spend today on the beach.”

“All they do is burn on their beach towels and drink.”

“All you do is burn in the ocean and be annoying.”

“Says the one taking pictures all day when we’re meant to be on vacation.”

The day was like all the ones before; sunny and humid. The asphalt radiated heat. Crack an egg in the parking lot and breakfast would be done in minutes. I threw the driver door open. Beau slid into the passenger seat. He dug out his camera when I revved up the engine.

“How much time have you spent in the ocean anyways?” I asked.

His answer was a nonchalant shrug.

“And what the hell is Portland Head Lighthouse?”

“You aren’t that stupid,” he deadpanned.

“I know it’s a lighthouse, but why specifically go there?”

We backed out of the lot with no real destination, only a direction. Beau knew that we had to take the east road out of town so east it was, moving slowly initially with all the traffic around the beach. Tourists crowded the streets while their cars wandered their way through unfamiliar roads.

“It’s the oldest lighthouse in Maine,” he explained.

“How do you know that?”

“Google.”

“And why did you google it?”

“I like knowing what I’m about to photograph,” he said while we headed to unknown locations to see random places that he couldn’t possibly know anything about...unless he did? I didn’t really get how he could find information on likely family owned homes, but if he did then that’s weird and I wanted to go. There was possibly a serial killer in the car with me! Abort mission!

The tourist filled town faded from view. Once rows upon rows of hotels and restaurants morphed into old homes. Beau instructed which direction to head in, leading us through mostly suburban areas until we came upon them; towering manors within wide gated yards. Some were three stories high and stretched as wide as the beach hotels with columns holding up exquisite awnings. No doubt the owners were rich or the homes passed down from generation to generation. Some were almost regal, sitting atop lush green grass with an air of elegance that I expected the queen of england herself to step out of the double doors. Others were almost friendly in nature with brightly colored panels and giant rose gardens with braided vines crawling up shutters and over window sills.

The views were oddly satisfying. I thought we’d get bored after a few minutes, but we drove around town admiring the homes that were grand compared to our small town. A few were historical sites that allowed us to park on the side of the road. I waited with the van, leaning against the warm metal door while Beau traversed the open areas to discover the best shot. He often grimaced, angry with himself over the photographs that weren’t up to his incredibly high standards. However, when he got the perfect picture, he glistened as brightly as freshly polished glass.

I didn’t mind basically being his chauffeur until he ordered, “Turn around!”

“Huh?”

“Turn around.” He violently twisted in his seat. “There was a good spot back there.”

“Where?” I asked, recalling the area we drove through. There were personal homes on one side and a cemetery on the other.

“The cemetery.”

I choked on my own spit. “Excuse you?”

“Just turn around.”

“You want to take pictures in a cemetery?”

“I will get out at the next damn stop light,” he warned.

I gaped at his unusually childish nature, but he wasn’t giving up. At the next light, I reluctantly changed directions to slowly enter the old cemetery that...ok, was pretty damn neat looking.

The gates were towering iron, encircling old tombstones that were oddly shaped or discolored from age. Strange bushes that were about as tall as me were sprinkled through the yard; gnarled branches and deep purple leaves. A white gazebo encompassed by a prismatic garden rested to the right. To the left was Beau’s desired destination; a church that had been long forgotten.

We traversed the maze of paths to get close to the structure that was slowly being overtaken by nature. At first glance, the siding was likely once white but had worn ashen gray. Aged wood reached to the sky from the caved in porch possessed by weeds, flowers, vines and grass. The panels of wood were mostly hidden beneath moss and ivy that stretched all the way to the roof. A circular window sat in the point of the roof, star shaped and dirty with age.

Beau was going crazy.

“Your enthusiasm to take pictures of an old church in a cemetery is somewhat concerning,” I remarked to the boy that didn’t give a damn based on his continued enthusiasm. I slipped my hands into my pockets, refusing to admit that I was smiling. “What are you going to do? Post these online so everyone knows we entered a cemetery for pictures?”

“Who cares? It’s a beautiful structure, even you can’t deny that,” he easily argued, taking a break to click through the photographs.

“I guess it looks kinda nice. Creepy, but nice.” Until zombies broke their way through the decrepit structure and ate our brains.

“Come here.” Beau waved me over.

“Why?”

“To get a picture.”

“With the church?”

“No, with Satan,” he quipped. “Yes, with the church, dumb ass.”

“Why?”

He scowled. “Whatever, don’t then.”

Beau returned to the lone photoshoot; only there was a sudden tension. The air sizzled. Beneath the summer sun, we both were sweating buckets. I wasn’t so certain that was what made him so heated. 

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