Chapter One
There's this terrible rumor going around about pain. I just wanted to be the first to tell you that it's completely untrue; you should definitely not believe it.
You see, for as long as I can remember – which isn't too long if we're being candid – I've always been force-fed this bullshit idea that pain isn't your friend. It's like that awful neighbor that plays his shitty music too loud and lets its dog make mess on your lawn and then claim that it just fertilizes the earth. It's like that feeling you get when you wash your car and a bird takes a nice hot one on it right after. It's like buying the newest craze in tennis shoes and then stepping in the mud. It's not made to be your friend. It's there to hinder you.
I'm here to tell you that that's wrong.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "What does this asshole know?" And you're totally right. I don't know much. I'm not well-versed in a lot of things. I barely passed algebra in high school; I didn't study very much for English class. About the only thing I was any good at was phys ed. And, let's face it…anyone can be good at that.
So I'm not beaming with talent or knowledge. But aren't those the people that surprise us most? It's that kid in class who's probably almost always got his head down, wearing a hoodie and trying to block out any semblance of light. Then, one day, he jerks up from his slumber and starts popping off correct answers left and right. It's best when the moments just hit us. The epiphanies.
I'm here to warn you…I'm not the nicest guy. I'm not intentionally mean…but I'm kind of a dumbass most of the time. At least I recognize it. A lot of dudes run around with their heads filled with hot air. They've just been even glanced at the right way and suddenly their ego is big enough to support carrying a Victorian style home. I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt anyone, but sometimes it happens on its own.
"You're never going to beat me driving like that." The pedals on my bike starting turning so hard I thought they might catch on fire. I was sure acting like something was on fire with the way I was going. The wind was pushing my hair back. The smell of fresh cut grass was being filtered through my lungs. I was racing – and embarrassing – my next-door neighbor. She hated it when I pretended to let her win and then beat her at the last second. I was a reasonable guy, so I decided to smoke her from start to finish this time.
"Slow down, Finn!" she called out from behind. She was a good twenty yards behind me. If it were a football game, I'd have scored on her already.
"I think you're kind of missing the basic point of racing," I said, somewhat out-of-breath, whizzing down the sidewalk at lightning speed.
A few grunts later, she was practically caught up to me. I turned my head with the dopiest expression possible. "How did you…" was all I could get out.
Have you ever seen a five-foot-six 12-year-old take flight and land in the mud? No? Well, it's pretty fucking comical. A few of the neighbors came out to check on me before they busted a gut from laughter.
Rachel couldn't've given a shit less; she was crossing the finish line while I was taking a mud bath. She was also laughing hysterically. It was definitely not the way to win a race.
"Oh my god," she said, bent over from laughing. I was mad for a second. And then she smiled. Her nose scrunched up, her eyes squinted closed, her face got a little red. "You look like an ape or something!"
I looked down at my shirt and pants, both of which were ruined. "Not cool," I said, trying to fake being madder than I was. "You cheated." It was the only excuse I had.
Her laughter eventually subsided and she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. "What?" she said, still smiling from laughing so hard.
"You cheated," I said again, slopping some of the mud back onto the ground.
"Excuse you?" she said, that smile now completely gone. "You're the one who hit the crack in the sidewalk!"
"Yeah well you…" I panicked. "You…" I shook my head, flustered. "You're stupid!" I paused, finding I hit my stride. "And ugly. And smelly."
She stood there for a second and held onto her bike. Her lip began to quiver a little.
"Oh no, I didn't mean that, please don't—" I tried putting my hands up to silence any oncoming wails. It didn't work.
"Don't ever talk to me again, Finn Christopher Hudson!"
"Rachel! Wait! I didn't mean that!" I slopped the rest of the mud off and grabbed my bike – which had a bent rim (karma) and ran after her.
"I said DON'T TALK TO ME!" she protested as she turned sharply into her driveway.
One of her dads was out in the garden. She ran past him, crying as hard as I'd ever seen her. I tried to follow her in, not really remembering that I was caked in mud.
"Young man, I JUST cleaned that carpet," I heard a voice boom over. I froze mid-step. I already knew what the next question was. "What in the world did you do to her?"
I was never much good at lying. Still not.
"I…um…" I cleared my throat and buttered the bread as best as I could. "You see, we were playing, uh, Broadway. She wanted to be Annie." I paused. That seemed believable. "But I wanted to be Annie." I said I wasn't good at lying. "And we got into a fight."
He looked at me incredulously. "You wanted to be Annie?"
"…Yes."
He looked me up and down. "And she…beat you up?"
"Um…not really. You see, I was, uh, walking…and we were trying to practice our jazz hands. Well, I was trying to practice my jazz hands. And I tripped over a rock." I rubbed my arm. "And she still wanted to be Annie, but I said no and…"
"He called me stupid, daddy!" There was a pause in the shrillness. "And ugly." Another pause. "AND smelly."
Busted.
"Finn, I think it's time you go."
I took a few steps back. The dude had a gardening shovel. I wasn't going to argue. "Fine. I'll go." I grabbed my bike and slinked away, her dad watching me from the yard with a confused expression.
Ping! Ping!
I heard a window open and froze.
"Finn? Is that you?" I saw a silhouette emerge from a neighboring window. "That's my dads' room…you should probably stop throwing rocks at it."
"Rachel?" I tossed the pebbles aside. Not one of my brighter ideas. "Rachel is that you?" I couldn't tell, exactly, but I was pretty sure it was. Not many people would be blaring the record to Cats the Musical that late at night.
I heard an annoyed sigh roll through her nose. "What do you want?"
"I came to uh…to say I'm sorry," I said. I took a step closer and prayed she didn't have some type of guard cat. She seemed like the type.
"For?" She folded her arms.
"For calling you stupid." I paused. It was starting to rain a little.
"Go on."
"And smelly." I sighed. "And ugly." I shivered a little.
"Is that it?"
"Well…um…" I frowned. I was pretty sure that was all I said. "Yeah."
I saw her unfold her arms and being to close her window.
"Wait!" I panicked again. "And you didn't cheat? You and that crack beat me fair and square." The rain was beginning to fall a little more steadily.
She paused and I thought I may have heard a laugh. "What are you doing out this late?"
Making pancakes.
"I came to say I was sorry," I repeated.
"It's pouring down rain, Finn. Go back home." She started to close her window.
"Rachel!" I yelled over the sound of the rain hitting her gutter. "Please don't close the window. I biked two blocks to get here."
"Finn…" She paused with her arms outstretched as if she was hesitant.
"Please? I'm really sorry." I shook some rain off. "You're not any of those things." I sighed. "I wasn't even mad at you, really. I was just pretending."
Her window closed and I was pretty sure my heart broke right then and there. I stood in the yard for another few moments, contemplating how I was going to get back home in the pouring down rain.
Just as I began to turn, I heard a door open.
"Finn!" she called out.
"Rachel? What are you doing?"
She ran over to me; I knew she was serious because she was wearing a Hello Kitty nightgown. And that doesn't seem like the type of thing that most girls wear in the pouring down rain.
I turned back to her completely and we just sort of looked at each other for a minute.
"I came down here to give you this…"
The next thing I knew, my face was in her hands. Her two, precious hands.
People might tell you that there can't be sparks in the rain. Maybe they just haven't been with the right person.
