Alison Evans
Sam Borranger runs his fingers through his ruffled hair. He shakes his head back and forth like a dog, and his sandy hair moves back and forth. I watch him, sprawled onto his bedroom floor. Lying on our stomachs, we lay facing each other, my feet raised behind me, kicking. For the past five minutes or so, I've been watching him. The two of us had been chattering away madly only to trail off into the typical eerie silence which meant he was thinking. Daydreams I imagine. I often wondered what he thought about, but I knew he was thinking by the look on his face. His cheek bones contort and move as his entire face cringes and then relaxes. The few freckles splattered across his cheeks twisted. He looked like a little seven year old making faces in a mirror at his reflection. That's when we met though, eight years ago at a lake, and we'd hardly grown up since then, so it made sense. For the past eight years, my best and practically only friend has been Sam, so it wasn't at all strange to us that we were having our typical night of lying on his floor with pizza and movies.
Realizing he won't come out of his trance for awhile, I scan the room. Normally somewhat clean, as I clean it regularly or I wouldn't be able to set foot into the hazard zone that is his bedroom. I imagine it's because Sam's just a typical boy, but what would I know? He and the rest of the tribe of boys in our neighborhood were the only ones I'd ever talked to. The magazines and DVD cases litter the floor along with clothes which had been flung over dressers, lamps, and one particular grey Led-Zeppelin tee-shirt which had found a way to manage to hang over his television set.
He must have come out of his trance as I had looked over what I would clean. His face returns to its original state, and that idiotic grin spread across his face.
"If it bugs you that much, feel free," he smiles smugly. I shake my head and laugh. As much as I'd gladly love to clean the jungle of clothes, I couldn't stop wondering what he was planning.
"I think I'll pass," I reply, a bit aggravated.
I meet his eyes again, and I look into the same brown eyes I've been accustomed to since I was six, which almost always meant trouble. It seemed tonight would be no exception, I could tell. When you hang around with the same person for eight years, you tend to notice some of their habits. The look in Sam's eyes might be mistaken for a blank stare to lead someone he was thinking of nothing at all. I knew better. I read the phrase "crazy scheme" right across his face.
Rochsborough would surely be a much duller, but also a quieter, more peaceful place without Sam, and I knew I could never live without him. He always managed to talk other people into doing what he wanted, and sometimes I wondered if it was his eyes. I followed him, naturally, and even helped concoct a few of the plots myself, but nothing ever compared to anything from his mind. Ever.
I look back at him, just as he stands and starts to move across the soft carpeted floor which was a bed for all his junk. He was tall; much taller than he used to be. He'd always been at least a little taller, and then two years ago he gained about seven inches on me. My head reached his just past his chest when I stood next to him. We couldn't fight like we did when we were little, and he used this to his advantage. He teased more than ever to instigate a fight he knew would never happen. That was just the way he was though. He thought it was funny, and I could hardly blame him. I'd never be able to fight him.
I reposition my legs so they are crossed on the floor. We'd be waiting for Ann to come check on us to make sure we went to sleep at some point, and then we'd be off onto whatever adventure he had managed to cook up while he sat in the trance on the floor. He might call some of the other idiots who lived in the neighborhood to add to the night's course of events; or maybe he wouldn't. I vaguely hoped he didn't, I always had more fun when it was just the two of us. I wonder where he would lead everyone tonight, but I was far too excited to feel the cool, crisp night air blow against my face, knotting my hair, feel a fire's warmth against my skin; to see the stars, the moon and star's refection on the lake, and experience another adventure with my best friend.
Whatever we did though, I knew I would probably be something ridiculously stupid and reckless, but Sam didn't care and neither did I. Life to Sam simply wouldn't be as fun without a regular dose of danger, which was fine with me. I had known him long enough to know better than to expect anything of the ordinary.